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Division 
Section 


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l?i^S^:    — 


SERMONS 


BY 


HENRY    M  E  L  V  I  L  L,    B.  D. 


MINISTER  OF   CAMDEN   CHAPEL,  CAMBERWELL, 


LATE    FELLOAV    AND    TUTOR.    OF    ST.    PETEr's    COLLEGE,    CAJIBRIDGE. 


COMPRISING    ALL   THE   DISCOURSES    PUBLISHED    BY    CONSENT   OF    THE   AUTHOR. 


EDITED   BY 


THE  FJaHT  REV.  C.  P.  MILVAINE,  D.  D. 


BISHOP    OF    THE   PROTESTANT    EPISCOPAL    CHURCH    IN    THE    DIOCESE   Of    OHIO. 


THIRD  EDITION,  ENLARGED. 


NEW- YORK : 


STANFORD   Sc   SWORDS,    13U   BROADWAV. 

PHILADELrilLV: 

GEORGE    S.    APPLETOiV,    118   CHESNL'T-STRELT. 


iS44. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1844,  by  SxANroRr 
&  Swords,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  Ncw-York- 


NEW-YOr.K: 
r.-inUil  by  Daniel  Fanshaw. 


CONTENTS. 


Editor's  Preface, Poge  5 

Sermon  J. — The  Fiisi  Prophecy,     ....        9 
.Sermon  II.— Christ  the  Miuister  of  the  Church,      .      20 
•Sermon  lit. — The  Iiujiossibility  of  Creature  Merit,      30 
Sermo.v  IV. — Thelmmiliation  of  the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  -10 
.Sermon  V.— The   Doctrine    of   the    Resurteclion 
viewed  in  connection  with  that  of 
the  Soul's  Immortality,  .        .         .'     51 
Sermon  VI. — The  Power  of  VViclicduess  and  Righ- 
teousness to  reproduce  themselves,      61 
Sermon  VII. — The  Power  of  Religion  to  strength- 
en the  Human  Intellect,  .        .         .      71 
Sermon  Vlll. — The  Provision  made  by  God  for  the 

P.101-, 83 

Sermon  IX. — St.  Paul  a  Tent-maker,      .        .         .1)3 

Sermon  X. — Thcadvantagesofii  stale  of  Expectation,  103 

^Sermon  XI. — Truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,        .         .        ,     114 

«. Sermon  XII. — The  Difficulties  of  Scripture,   .        .    125 

Sermons  -pieachcd  before  the  Universily  of  Cam- 
bridge, February,  183t). 
.Sermon  I. — The  (ireatiicssaud  Condescension  of  God,  139 
Sermon  II. — The  Termination  of  the   Mediatorial 

Kingdom, 146 

»Sermo.v11I. — The   advantages   resultlnjr  from  the 

Possession  of  the  Scrijitiires, .         .     154 
Sermon. — Neglect  of  the  Gospi-I  followed  by  its  Re- 
moval,        1C2 

Spit.1L  Sermon. — Preached  befi'iy  the  Lord  Mayor, 
&c.  in  Christ  (Jhurch,  Newgate- 
street,  April,  Ibjl,        .        .        .171 
Scrmmis  'preached  in  Great  St.  Mary^s  Church, 
Cambridge,  al  the  Evening  Lecture  in  Febru- 
ary, 183(j  and.  1837. 
Sermon  (183G.) — The  Greatness  of  Salvation  an  Ar- 
gument for  the  Peril  of  its  Neglect,     181 
Sermon. —  "       On  the  F^ffects  of  Consideration,     .     190 
Sermon  (1837.)— The  Two  Sons,       .        .        .■        .    201 
•  Sermon. —  "        The  Dispersion  and  Restoration  of 

the  Jews 210 

Sermons  preached  before  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge, February,  1337. 
Sermon  I. — The  Uiinaturalness  of  Disobedience  lo 

the  Gospel 201 

Sermon  II.— Songs  in  the  Night,      ....    2->8 
Sermon  III. — 'I'estimony  confirmed  by  E.xperience,    230 
Sermon  IV. — The  General  Resurrection  and  Judg- 
ment,          243 

"Sermon. — The  Anchor    of  the  Soul.    Preached  at 

.  TrinityChurch,  Chelsea,  July,  1836, 

in  behalf  of  the  Episcopal  Floating 

Chapel, 251 

.Sermon. — The  Divine  Patience  exhausted  through 

the  making  void  the  Law,        .         .     259 
Ser.mon. — The  Strength  which  Faith  gains  by  Ex- 
perience,   270 

MISCELLANEOUS  SERMONS. 
»«Sermon  I. — Jacob's  Vision  and  Vow,       .         .        .    281 
Sermon  II. — The  continued  Agency  of  the  Father 

and  the  Son 292 

•Sermon  III. — The  Resurrection  of  Dry  Bones,         .    30iJ 
Sermon  IV. — Protestantism  and  Popery,  .        .     313 

Sermon  V. — Christianity  a  Sword,  ....  3-^5 
,-«Sermon  VI. — The  Death  of  Moses,  ....  335' 
Sermon  VII. — The  Ascension  of  Christ,  .  .  .  345 
Sermon  Vlll. — The  Spirit  upon  the  Waters,  .  .  355 
Ser.mon  IX. — The  Pjoporlioa  of  Grace  to  Trial,  .  366 
Sermon  X. — Pleading  before  the  Mouulains,  .        .    378 

Sermon  XI.— Heavei 390 

Sermon  XII. — God's  Way  in  the  Sauctuary,  .        .    4u3 

Sermon  XIII. — Equity  of  the  Future  Retribution,  .    415 

Oonteiits  of  the  Volume,  now  for  the  first  time  published 

in  this  Country. 

SERMON  I. 

THE    FAITH   OF   JOSEPH    ON    HIS   DEATH-BED. 

By  faith  Joseph,  when  he  died,  made  mention  of  the 
departing  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  gave 
comnianduient  concerning  his  bones. — Hebrews, 

II;  22 429 

SERMON  II. 

ANGELS    AS  REMEMBRANCERS. 

He  is  not  here,  but  is  risen  :  remember  how  he  spake 
unto  you,  when' he  was  yet  in  Galilee,  saying. 
The  Son  of  Man  must  be  delivered  into  the 
hands  of  sinful  men,  and  be  crucified,  and  the 
third  day  rise  again.    And  they  remembered  his 

words.— Luke,  24  :  6,  7,  8 439 

SERMON  IIL 

THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 

Many  of  iheiii  also  which  used  curious  arts,  brought 


their  books  togetlier,  anil  burned  tlipm  before 
all  men  :  and  they  counted  the  price  of  tliem, 
and   foui:d    it  fifty  thousand  pieces  of  silver.— 

Acts,  19:  19 Page  448 

SERMON  IV. 

THE    PARTING    HYMN. 

And  when  they  had  sung  an  hymn,  they  went  out  in- 
to the  mount  of  Olives. — Matthew,  26  :  30.        .    458 
SERMON  V. 

Ca:SAR's   HOUSEHOLD. 

All  the  saints  salute  you,  chiefly  they  that  are  of  Cap- 

sar's  household.— Philippians,  4  :  22.  .        .     466 

SERiMON  VI. 

THE    SLEEPLESS   NIGHT. 

On  that  night  could  not  the  king  sleep  ;  and  he  com  - 
inaiided  to  bring  the  book  of  records  of  the 
chronicles;  and  they  were  read  before  the  king. 
Esther,  6  ;  1 477 

SERMON  Vn. 

THE   WELL    OF    BETHLEHEM. 

And  David  longed,  and  said.  Oh,  that  one  would  give 
me  drink  of  the  water  ofthe  well  of  Bethlehem, 
which  is  by  the  gate!  And  the  three  mighty-men 
brake  through  the  host  of  the  Philistines,  and 
drew  water  out  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  that 
was  by  the  gale,  and  took  it,  and  brought  it  to 
David  :  nevertheless  he  would  not  drink  thereof, 
butiioured  it  out  unto  the  Lord.  And  he  said. 
Be  it  far  from  me,  O  Lord,  that  I  should  do  tlii.--: 
is  not  this  the  blood  of  the  men  that  went  in 
j«'opardy  of  their  lives?  therefore  he  would  not 
drink  it— 2  Samuel,  23:  15,  16,  17.  .  .  .486 
SERMON  VIII. 

THE   THIRST   OF    CHRIST. 

After  this,  Jesus,  knowing  that  all  things  were  now        .^ 
accomplished,  that  the  Scripture  might  be  ful- 
filled, saith,  I  thirst.— John,  19  :  28.     .         .        .     497 

SERMON  IX. 

THE   SECOND   DELIVERY   OF    THE    LORD'S   PRAVBR. 

And  it  came  to  pass,  that,  as  he  was  praying  in  a 
'certain  place,  when  he  ceased,  one  of  his  disci- 
ples said  uulo  him,  Lord,  teach  us  lo  pray,  as 
John  also  taught  his  disciples. — Luke,  11:1.     .    507 
SERMON  X. 

PECULIARITIES  IN    THE    MIRACLE   IN    THE   COASTS   OF 
DECAPOLIS. 

And  he  took  him  aside  from  the  multitude,  and  put 
his  fingers  into  his  ears,  and  he  spit,  and  touch- 
ed his  tongue;  and  looking  up  to  heaven,  he 
sighed,  and  said  unto  him,  Ephphatha,  that  is, 

Beopened.— Mark,  7:  33,  34 515 

SERMON  XL 

THE    LATTER   RAIN. 

Ask  ye  of  the  Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter 
rain;  so  the  Lord  shall  make  bright  clouds,  and 
give  them  showers  of  rain,  to  every  one  grass 

in  the  field.— Zechariah,  10  :  1 52C 

SERMON  XII. 

THE   LOWLY   ERRAND. 

And  if  any  man  say  ought  unto  you,  ye  shall  saj'. 
The  Lord  hath  need  of  them,  and  straightway 
he  will  seud  them.— Matthew,  21  ;  3.  .        .    534 

SERMON  XIIL 

NEHEMIAH   BEFORE    ARTAXERXES. 

I  said  unto  the  king.  Let  the  king  live  forever: 
why  should  not  my  countenance  be  sad,  when 
the  ciiy,  the  place  of  my  fathers'  sepulchres, 
lieUi  waste,  and  the  gates  thereof  are  consumed 
witli  fire?  Then  the  king  said  unto  me.  For 
what  dost  thou  make  request?  So  I  prayed  to 
the  God  of  heaven.  And  I  said  unto  the  king. 
If  it  please  the  king,  and  if  thj'  servant  have 
found  favor  in  thy  sight,  that  ihou  wonldest 
send  me  unto  Judah,  unto  the  city  of  my  father.-)' 
sepulchres,  that  I  may  build  it. — Neh.  2  :  3,  4,  5.  544 
SERMON  XIV. 

JABEZ. 

And  Jabez  was  more  honorable  than  his  brethren;  ^ 
and  his  mother  called  his  name  Jabez,  saying. 
Because  I  bare  .him  with  sorrow.  And  Jabez 
called  on  the  God  of  Israel,  saying,  Oh  that  thou 
wouldest  bless  me  indeed,  and  enlarge  ray  coast, 
and  that  thine  hand  might  be  with  me,  and  that 
thou  wouldest  keep  me  from  evil,  that  it  may 
not  grieve  me.  And  God  grantedhim  that  which 
he  requested.— 1  Chron  4  ;  9,  10.         ...    552 


>f 


TO  THE 

CONGREGATION   OF   CAMDEN   CHAPEL, 

CAMBERWELL, 

In  acknowledgment  of  many  kindnesses  shown  him,  through  years  of  health,  and  months 
of  sickness;  and  in  the  hope  that  what  is  now  published  may  help  to  strengthen  them 
for  duty,  and  comfort  them  in  trial,  this  volume  is  inscribed  with  every  sentiment  of 
christian  affection,  by  their  faithful  friend  and  pastor,  the  atjthor. 


PREFACE. 

The  Author  has  selected  the  following  sermons  for  publication,  from  hav- 
ing observed  that  passages  of  Scripture  which  may  more  easily  be  overlooked, 
as  presenting  nothing  very  prominent,  prove  especially  interesting  to  an  audi- 
ence, when  shown  to  be  "profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction, 
for  instruction  in  righteousness."  He  has  material  in  hand  for  another  volume 
of  the  like  kind,  and  may  hereafter  commit  it  to  the  press,  if  he  should  have 
reason  to  think  that  the  present  has  proved  acceptable- 

Cambebwell,  January,  1843. 


EDITOR'S    PREFACE. 


The  author  of  these  discourses  is  well  known  in  England  as  an  eloquent  and  earnest 
preacher  of  the  Gospel.  "  Envy  itself,"  says  the  British  Critic,  "  must  acknowledge  his 
great  abilities  and  great  eloquence."  After  having  occupied  the  highest  standing,  while 
an  under-graduate  of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  he  was  chosen  to  a  Fellowship  in  St. 
Peter's  College,  and,  for  some  time,  was  a  tutor  to  that  Society.  Thence  he  was  called 
to  the  pastoral  charge  of  Camden  Chapel,  (a  proprietary  chapel,)  in  the  overgrown  parish 
of  Camberwell,  one  of  the  populous  suburbs  of  London.  The  first  twelve  discourses  in 
this  volume  were  preached  in  that  pulpit,  and  the  rest,  Avhile  he  Avas  connected  there- 
with. It  has  not  unfrequently  been  the  privilege  of  the  Editor  to  worship  and  listen,  in 
company  with  the  highly  interesting  and  intelligent  congregation  that  crov^'ds  the  pews 
and  aisles,  and  every  corner  of  a  standing-place  in  that  edifice;  fully  participating  in  that 
entire  and  delightful  captivity  of  mind  in  which  their  beloved  pastor  is  wont  to  lead  the 
Avhole  mass  of  his  numerous  auditory. 

Melvill  is  not  yet  what  is  usually  called  a  middle-aged  man.  His  constitution  and  physi- 
cal powers  are  feeble.  His  lurigs  and  chest  needing  constant  care  and  protection,  often 
seem  determined  to  submit  no  longer  to  the  efforts  they  are  required  to  make  in  keeping 
pace  with  his  high-wrought  and  intense  animation.  The  hearer  sometimes  listens  witli 
pain  lest  an  instrument  so  frail,  and  struck  by  a  spirit  so  nerved  with  the  excitement  of  the 
most  inspiring  themes,  should  suddenly  break  some  silver  cord,  and  put  to  silence  a  harper 
whose  notes  of  thunder,  and  strains  of  warning,  invitation,  and  tenderness,  the  church  is  not 
prepared  to  lose.  Generally,  however,  one  thinks  but  little  of  the  speaker  Avhile  hearing 
Melvill.  The  manifest  defects  of  a  very  peculiar  delivery,  both  as  regards  iis  action  and 
intonation ;  (if  that  may  be  called  action  which  is  the  mere  quivering  and  jerking  of  a  body 
too  intensely  excited  to  be  quiet  a  moment) — the  evident  feebleness  and  exhaustion  of  a 
frame  charged  to  the  brim  Avith  an  earnestness  which  seems  laboring  to  find  a  tongue  in 
every  limb,  while  it  keeps  in  strain  and  rapid  action  every  muscle  and  fibre,  are  forgotten, 
after  a  little  progress  of  the  discourse,  in  the  rapid  and  swelling  current  of  thought  in  Avhich 
the  hearer  is  carried  along,  wholly  engrossed  Avith  the  new  aspects,  the  rich  and  gloAving 
scenery,  the  bold  prominences  and  beautiful  landscapes  of  truth,  remarkable  both  for 
A^ariety  and  unity,  with  Avhich  every  turn  of  the  stream  delights  him.  But  then  one  must 
make  haste,  if  he  would  see  all.  Melvill  delivers  his  discourses  as  a  Avar-horse  rushes  to 
the  charge.  He  literally  runs,  till  for  want  of  breath  he  can  do  so  no  longer.  His  involun- 
tary pauses  are  as  convenient  to  his  audience  as  essential  to  himself.  Then  it  is,  that  an 
equally  breathless  audience,  betraying  the  most  convincing  signs  of  having  forgotten  to 
breathe,  commence  their  preparation  for  the  next  outset  with  a  degree  of  unanimity  and  of 
business-like  effort  of  adjustment,  which  can  hardly  fail  of  disturbing,  a  little,  a  stranger's 

.  There  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  composition  of  Melvill's  congregation  which  contributes 
much  to  give  peculiarity  to  his  discourses.  His  chapel  is  a  centre  to  which  hearers  flock, 
drawn  by  the  reputation  of  the  preacher,  not  only  from  all  the  neighborhood,  but  from  di- 
vers parts  of  the  great  metropolis,  bringing  under  his  reach,  not  only  the  highest  intellec- 
tual character,  but  all  varieties  of  states  of  mind  ;  from  that  of  the  devout  believer,  to  that 
of-the  habitual  doubter,  or  confirmed  infidel.  In  this  mixed  multitude,  young  men,  of  great 
importance,  occupy  a  large  place.  Seed  soAvn  in  that  congregation  is  seen  scattered  over 
all  London,  and  carried  into  all  England.  Hence  there  is  an  evident  effort  on  the  part  of 
the  preacher  to  introduce  as  much  variety  of  topic  and  of  treatment  as  is  consistent  with 
the  great  duty  of  always  preaching  and  teaching  Jesus  Christ;  of  ahvays  holding  up  the 
cross,  with  all  its  connected  truths  surroimding  it,  as  the  one  great  and  all-pervading  sub- 
ject of  his  ministry.  To  these  circumstances  he  alludes  in  a  passage  toAvards  the  end  of 
the  sermon  on  the  Difficulties  of  Scripture,  a  sermon  Ave  Avould  particularly  recommend  to 
the  reader — and  a  passage,  introductory  to  one  of  the  most  eloquent  and  impressiA'e  parts 
of  the  whole  volume.  "  We  feel  (he  says)  that  we  have  a  diflficult  part  to  perform  in  minis- 
tering to  the  (Congregation  which  assembles  Avithin  these  walls.  Gathered  as  it  is  from 
many  parts,  and  without  question  including,  oftentimes,  numbers  who  make  no  profession, 
Avhatsoever,  of  religion,  we  think  it  bound  on  us  to  seek  out  great  A-^ariety  of  subjects,  so 
that,  if  possible,  the  case  of  none  of  the  audience  may  be  quite  overlooked  in  a  series  of 


6  EDITOR  S    PREFACE. 

discourses."  We  knoAV  not  the  preacher  who  succeeds  better  in  tliis  respect;  who  causes 
to  pass  before  liis  people  a  richer,  or  more  complete  array  of  doctrinal  and  practical  truth  ; 
exhibits  it  in  a  greater  variety  of  lights;  surrounds  it  with  a  scenery  of  more  appropriate 
and  striking  illustration;  meets  more  of  the  influential  difficulties  of  young  and  active 
minds;  grapples  with  more  of  the  real  enmity  of  scepticism,  and  for  all  classes  of  his  con- 
gregation more  diligently  "  seeks  out  acceptable  words,"  or  brings  more  seasonably,  out  of 
his  treasures,  things  new  and  old,  and  yet  without  failing  to  keep  Avithin  the  circle  of  al- 
ways preaching  Christ — teaching  not  only  the  truth,  but  "  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus," 
without  obscurity,  without  compromise,  and  without  lear;  pointedly,  fully,  habitually. 

It  is  on  account  of  this  eminent  union  of  variety  and  faithfulness,  this  wide  compass  of 
excursion  without  ever  losing  sight  of  the  cross  as  the  central  light  and  power  in  which 
every  thing  in  religion  lives,  and  moves,  and  has  its  being;  it  is  because  that  same  variety 
of  minds  which  throng  the  seats  and  standing-places  of  Camden  chapel,  and  hang  with 
delight  upon  the  lips  of  the  preacher,  finding  in  his  teaching  what  rivets  their  attention, 
rebukes  their  worldliness,  shames  their  doubts,  annihilates  their  diihculties,  and  enlarges 
their  views  of  the  great  and  precious  things  of  the  Gospel,  are  found  every  where  in  this 
land,  especially  among  our  educated  young  men,  that  we  have  supposed  the  publication 
of  these  discourses  might  receive  the  Divine  blessing,  and  be  productive  of  very  important 
benefits. 

It  can  hardly  be  necessary  to  say,  that  in  causing  a  volume  to  issue  from  the  press,  as 
this  does,  one  does  not  make  himself  responsible  for  every  jot  and  tittle  of  what  it  con- 
tains. It  may  be  calculated  powerfully  to  arrest  attention,  disarm  prejudice,  conciliate 
respect,  stimulate  inquiry,  impress  most  vital  truth;  and  in  many  ways  effect  a  great 
deal  of  good,  though  we  be  not  prepared  to  concur  with  its  author  in  some  minor  thoughts 
or  incidental  ideas  on  which  none  of  the  great  matters  in  his  volume  depend. 

There  are  some  aspects  in  which  these  discourses  may  be  profitably  studied  by  candi- 
dates for  orders,  and  indeed  by  most  preachers,  exclusive  of  the  substantial  instruction  of 
their  contents.  We  do  not  refer  to  their  style.  This  we  cannot  recommend  for  imitation. 
However  we  may  like  it  in  Melvill,  because  it  is  emphatically  his,  the  mode  of  his  mind; 
the  gait  in  which  his  thoughts  most  naturally  march  on  their  high  places;  the  raiment  in 
which  his  inner  man  invests  itself,  without  effort,  and  almost  of  necessity,  when  he  takes 
the  place  of  ambassador  of  the  King  of  kings,  we  might  not  like  it  any  where  else.  How- 
ever this  peculiar  turn  and  swell  of  expression  may  be  adapted  to  that  peculiar  breadth, 
and  height,  and  brilliancy  of  conception  for  which  this  author  is  often  distinguished;  with 
all  those  other  attributes  which  adapt  his  discourses  to  opportunities  of  usefulness  not  of- 
ten improved  ;  and  a  class  of  readers  not  often  attracted,  by  the  preacher;  we  should  think 
it  a  great  evil  if  our  candidates  for  orders  should  attempt  to  appear  in  such  flowing  robes. 
For  the  same  reason  that  they  sit  well  on  him,  would  they  sit  awkwardly  on  them.  They 
are  his,  and  not  theirs.  His  mind  was  measured  for  such  a  dress.  Nature  made  it  up  and 
adapted  it  to  his  style  of  thought,  insensible  to  himself  The  diligent  husbandman  may 
be  as  useful  in  his  way,  as  the  prince  in  his.  But  the  husbandman  in  the  equipment  of 
the  prince  would  be  sadly  out  of  keeping.  Not  more  than  if  a  mind  of  the  usual  turn  and 
character  of  thought  should  emulate  the  stride  and  the  swing,  the  train  and  the  plumage 
of  Melvill. 

It  is  in  the  e.r;?os?7 or?/ character  of  this  author's  discourses,  that  we  would  present  them 
for  imitation.  Of  the  ex[)Ositions  themselves,  we  are  not  speaking;  but  of  the  conspicu- 
ous fact  that  whatever  Scripture  he  selects,  his  sermon  is  made  up  of  its  elements.  His 
text  does  not  merely  introduce  his  subject,  but  suggests  and  contains  it;  and  not  only  con- 
tains, but  is  identical  with  it.  His  aim  is  confined  to  the  single  object  of  setting  forth 
plainly  and  instructirdy  some  one  or  two  great  features  of  scriptural  truth,  of  which  the 
chosen  passage  is  a  distinct  declaration.  No  matter  what  the  topic,  the  hearer  is  sure  of 
an  interesting'  and  prominent  setting  out  of  the  text  in  its  connection,  and  that  it  will  exer- 
cise an  important  bearing  upon  every  branch  of  the  discourse,  constantly  receiving  new 
lights  and  applications,  and  not  finally  relinquished  till  the  sermon  is  ended,  and  the  hearer 
has  obtained  an  inception  of  that  one  passage  of  the  Bible  upon  his  mind,  never  to  be  for- 
o-otten.  In  other  words,  Melvill  is  strictly  a  preacher  upon  texts.,  instead  of  subjects ;  up- 
on truths,  as  expressed  and  connected  in  the  Bible,  instead  of  topics,  as  insulated  or  classi- 
fied, according  to  the  ways  of  man's  wisdom.  Tliis  is  precisely  as  it  should  be.  The 
preacher  is  not  called  to  deliver  dissertations  upon  questions  of  theology,  or  orations  upon 
specific  themes  of  duty  and  spiritual  interest,  but  expositions  of  divine  truth  as  that  is  pre- 
sented in  the  infinitely  diversified  combinations,  and  incidental  allocations  of  the  Scriptures, 
His  Avork  is  simply  that  of  making,  through  the  blessing  of  God,  the  Holy  Scriptures 
"  profitable  for  doctrine,  reproof,  correction,  and  instruction  in  righteousness."  This  lie  is 
to  seek  by  endeavoring  "  rightly  to  divide  the  word  of  truth."  Too  much,  by  far,  has  the 
preaching  of  these  days  departed  from  this  expository  character.  The  praise  of  invention 
is  too  mtjch  coveted.  The  simplicity  of  interpretation  and  application  is  too  much  under- 
valued.   We  must  be  content  to  take  the  bread  as  the  Lord  has  created  it,  and  perform 


EDITOK  S    PUEFACE.  . 

the  liutnble  office  oi'  distribution,  going  round  amidst  the  multiliide,  and  giving  to  all  aa 
each  may  need,  believing  that  he  who  provided  it  will  see  that  there  he  enough  and  to 
spare,  instead  of  desiring  to  stand  in  the  place  of  the  Master,  and  improve  by  our  wisdorn 
the  simple  elements,  ''Uhe  five  barley  loaves''''  which  he  alone  can  make  sufficient  "among 
so  many." 

But  apart  from  the  duty  of  preaching  wpon  and  out  of  the  Scriptures,  instead  of  merely 
talcing  a  verse  as  the  starting-place  of  our  train  of  remark  ;  apart  from  the  obligation  of  so 
expounding  the  word  of  God,  that  the  sermon  shaJl  take  its  shape  and  character  from  the' 
text;  and  the  doctrine  and  the  duty  shall  be  taught  and  urged  a^ccording  to  the  relative 
bearings  and  proportions  in  Avhich  they  are  presented  therein;  this  ^c^r^/i?/ plan  of  con- 
structing discourses  is  the  only  one  by  which  a  preacher  can  secure  a  due  variety  in  his 
ministry,  except  he  go  outside  the  limits  of  always  preaching  Christ  crucified,  and  deal 
with  other  matters  than  such  as  bear  an  important  relation  to  the  person,  office,  and  bene- 
fits of  "  the  Lord  our  Righteousness."  He  who  preaches  upon  subjects  in  dhnnity,  instead 
of  passages  of  Scripture,  fitting  a  text  to  his  theme,  instead  of  extracting  his  theme  from 
his  text,  will  soon  find  that,  in  the  ordinary  frequency  of  parochial  ministrations,  he  has 
gone  the  round,  and  traced  all  the  great  highways  of  his  field,  and  what  to  do  next,  with- 
out repeating  his  course,  or  changing  his  whole  mode  of  pi-oceeding,  he  will  be  at  a  great 
loss  to  discover.  Distinct  objects  in  the  preacher's  message,  like  the  letters  in  his  alpha- 
bet, are  few — few  when  it  is  considered  that  his  life  is  to  be  occupied  in  exhibiting  them. 
But  their  combinations,  like  those  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  are  innumerable.  Few 
are  the  distinct  classes  of  objects  which  make  up  the  beautiful  landscapes  under  the  light 
imd  shadows  of  a  summer's  day.  The  naturalist,  who  describes  by  genera  and  species,  may 
.soon  enumerate  them.  But  boundless  is  the  variety  of  aspects  in  which  they  appear  un- 
der all  their  diversities  of  shape,  color,  relation,  magnitude,  as  the  observer  changes  place, 
and  sun  and  cloud  change  the  light.  The  painter  must  paint  for  ever  to  exhibit  all.  >So  as 
to  the  great  truths  to  which  the  preacher  must  give  himself  for  life.  Their  variety  of  com- 
binations, as  exhibited  in  the  Bible,  is  endless.  He  who  treats  them  with  strict  reference 
to  all  the  diversities  of  shape,  proportion,  incident,  relation,  circumstance,  under  which 
the  pen  of  inspiration  has  left  them,  changing  his  point  of  observation  Avith  the  changing 
positions  and  wants  of  his  hearers,  allowing  the  lights  and  shadows  of  Providence  to  lend 
their  rightful  influence  in  varying  the  aspect  and  applications  of  the  truth — such  a  preacher, 
if  his  heart  be  fully  in  his  work,  can  never  lack  variety,  so  far  as  it  is  proper  for  one  who 
is  to  "  know  nothing  among  men  but  Jestis  Christ  and  him  crucified."  He  will  constantfy 
feel  as  if  he  had  only  begun  the  Avork  given  him  to  do — furnished  only  a  few  specimens 
out  of  a  rich  and  inexhaustible  cabinet  of  gems.  By  strictly  adhering  to  this  plan,  the  au- 
thor of  these  discourses  attains  unusual  variety  in  liis  ministry,  considering  that  he  makes 
it  so  prominently  his  business  to  teach  and  preach  Jesus  Christ. 

But  here  it  may  be  Avell  to  say  that  by  variety,  as  desirable  to  a  certain  extent,  in  the 
preacher's  work,  we  mean  nothing  like  originality.  Some  minds  cannot  help  a  certain 
measure  of  originality.  They  may  treat  of  old  themes,  and  with  ideas  essentially  the 
same  as  any  one  else  would  employ,  but  Avith  peculiarities  of  thought  which  set  them  far 
apart  from  all  other  minds.  But  to  seek  originality,  while  it  is  very  commonly  the  mis- 
take of  young  preachers,  is  a  very  serious  error.  There  cannot  be  any  thing  new  in  the 
preacher's  message.  He  that  seeks  novelties  will  be  sure  to  preach  /a?zdes.  "The  real 
difficulty  and  the  real  triumph  of  preaching  is  to  enlbrce  home  upon  the  mind  and  con- 
science, trite,  simple,  but  all-important  truths;  to  urge  old  topics  in  common  language, 
and  to  send  the  hearer  back  to  his  house  awakened,  humbled,  and  impressed  ;  not  so  much 
astonished  by  the  blaze  of  oratory,  but  thinking  far  more  of  the  argument  than  of  the 
preacher;  sensible  of  his  own  sins,  and  anxious  to  grasp  the  proffered  means  of  salvation. 
To  say  the  same  things  Avhich  the  best  and  most  pious  ministers  of  Christ's  church  have 
baid  from  the  beginning;  to  tread  in  their  path,  to  follow  their  footsteps,  and  yet  not  ser- 
vilely to  copy,  or  verbally  to  repeat  them  ;  to  take  the  same  groundwork,  and  yet  add  to  it 
an  .enlarged  and  diversified  range  of  illustrations,  brought  up  as  it  were  to  the  age,  and 
adapted  to  time  and  circumstance;  this  is,  Ave  think,  the  true  originality  of  the  pulpit. 
To  be  on  the  Avatch  to  strike  out  some  novel  method  of  display,— to  dash  into  the  fanciful, 
because  it  is  an  arduous  task  to  arrest  the  same  eager  notice  by  the  familiar — this  is  not 
originality,  but  mannerism  or  singularity.  And  although  feAV  can  be  original,  nothing  is 
more  easy  than  to  be  singular." 

The  discourses  contained  in  this  volume  are  all  that  Melvill  has  published;  unless  there 
be  one,  or  two,  in  pamphlet  form,  of  Avhich  the  Editor  has  not  heard.  We  say  all  that 
Melvill  has  published.  Many  others  have  been  published  surrcptitio7isly,  Avhich  he  never 
prepared  for  the  press,  and  Avhich  ought  not  to  be  read  as  specimens  of  his  preaching-.  In 
the  English  periodical,  called  "  The  Pulpit,"  there  are  many  such  sermons,  under  the  nann; 
of  Melvill.  In  justice  to  that  distinguished  preacher,  and  to  all  others  Avhose  names  arc 
similarly  used,  it  should  be  knoAvn  that  the  contents  of  that  Avork  are  mere  stenographic 
reports,  by  hired  agents  of  the  press,  Avho  go  to  church  that  they  may  get  an  article  for 


8  editor's  preface. 

llie  next  number  of  The  Pulpit.  V/liile  the  rest  of  the  congregation  are  hearing  the  ser- 
mon for  spiritual,  they  are  hearing  it  for  pecuniary  prolit.  We  see  no  difference  between 
a  week-day  press,  furnished  thus  by  Sunday  writers,  and  a  Sunday-press  furnished  by 
week-day  writers.  "The  Pulpit"  is  in  this  way  as  much  a  desecrater  of  the  Sabbath  as 
the  "Sunday  Morning  Post,"  or  "Herald."  But  this  is  not  the  point  at  present.  We  are 
looking  at  the  exceeding  injustice  done  to  the  preacher  whose  sermons  are  reported.  It 
may  be  that  he  is  delivermg  a  very  familiar,  perhaps  an  unwritten  discourse  ;  special  cir- 
(iumstances  have  prevented  his  devoting  the  usual  time  or  mind  to  the  preparation,  or 
have  interfered  with  his  getting  up  the  usual  energy  of  thought  for  the  work.  He  does 
not  dream  of  the  public  press.  The  sermon  may  be  useful  for  his  people,  but  just  the  one 
which  he  would  dislike  to  send  out  before  the  world.  Nevertheless,  the  reporter  for  The 
Pulpit  has  happened  to  choose  his  church,  that  morning,  "for  better,  for  ivorse"  and  he 
cannot  lose  his  time.  The  tale  of  bricks  must  be  rendered  to  the  taskmaster.  The  press 
waits  for  its  article,  and  the  stenographer  wants  his  Avages,  and  favorable  or  unfavorable, 
the  report  must  be  printed.  Like  all  such  productions,  it  is  of  course  often  careless  and 
inaccurate;  sometimes  provokingly  and  very  injuriously  inaccurate.  The  attention  of  the 
scribe  happened  to  be  diverted  at  a  place  of  main  importance;  he  lost  the  explanatory  re- 
mark, the  qualifying  words,  the  connecting  link — his  report  is  thus  untrue:  either  he 
leaves  the  hiatus,  occasioned  by  his  negligence,  unsupplied,  or,  what  is  often  the  case, 
daubs  it  up  with  his  own  mortar,  puts  many  sentences  into  the  preacher's  mouth  of  his 
own  taste  and  divinity — thus  is  the  precious  specimen  composed,  and  that  week  is  adver- 
tised, to  the  great  mortification  of  the  alleged  author,  an  original  sermon  in  the  last  num- 
ber of  the  Pulpit,  by  the  Rev.  Henry  Melvtll,  c^c.  Such  is  the  history  of  almost  every  ser- 
mon which  has  as  yel  been  read  in  this  country  as  belonging  to  that  author;  The  Pulpit, 
or  extracts  from  it'  having  circulated  widely,  while  the  real  sermons  of  Melvill,  having 
been,  prior  to  this,  confined  to  volumes  of  English  edition,  are  scarcely  known  among  us. 
No  one  can  help  seeing  how  injurious  such  surreptitious  publications  must  be  to  the 
preacher;  what  a  nuisance  to  the  body  whom  they  profess  to  represent.  So  is  the  maga- 
zine of  which  Ave  have  been  speaking,  regarded  in  England.  Not  unfrequently  ministers 
have  been  obliged  to  print  their  discourses  for  the  purpose  of  correcting  the  errors  of  its 
reporters.  More  than  once  its  Editor  has  been  prosecuted  for  the  purpose  (though  in  vain) 
of  stopping  this  exceedingly  objectionable  mode  of  sustaining  "The  Pulpit." 

The  editor  of  this  volume  has  thought  it  expedient  to  make  these  remarks  by  way  of 
explanation  of  his  having  excluded  all  the  discourses  ascribed  to  Melvill  contained  in  The 
Pulpit.  If  there  be  any  discourses  under  the  same  name,  in  the  other  periodical  of  the 
same  character,  called  the  British  Preacher,  they  are  subject  to  the  same  condemnation. 

It  is  no  little  evidence  of  the  value  of  these  sermons,  in  this  volume,  Avhich  were 
preached  before  the  University  of  Cambridge,  that  their  publication  was  in  consequence 
of  a  request  "from  the  resident  Bachelors  and  Under-graduates,  headed  by  the  most  dis- 
tinguished names,  and  numerously  signed."  A  strong  attestation  has  also  been  given  not 
only  to  the  University  sermons,  but  to  those  preached  in  the  author's  Chapel,  in  Camber- 
well,  in  the  fact  that,  flooded  as  is  the  market  with  the  immense  variety  of  pulpit  com- 
position, which  the  London  press  continually  pours  in,  so  that  a  bookseller  can  scarcely 
he  persuaded  to  publish  a  volume  of  sermons  at  his  own  risk,  and  such  a  volume  seldom 
reaches  beyond  a  single  edition,  these  of  Melvill  have,  in  a  short  time,  attained  their  ;/»'/y/, 
and  do  not  cease  to  attract  much  attention.  The  British  Critic,  though  criticising  wilji 
some  justice  and  more  severity  some  peculiarities  of  our  author,  speaks  of  the  Cambridge 
sermons  as  possessing  many  specimens  of  great  power  of  thought,  and  extraordinarv 
felicity  and  brilliancy  of  diction."  "Heartily  "  do«s  the  Reviewer  "  admire  the  breathing 
Avords,  the  bold  figures,  the  picturesque  images,  the  forcible  reasonings,  the  rapid,  vivid, 
fervid  perorations."  ,         „  , 

In  conclusion  of  this  Preface,  the  Editor  adds  the  earpest  hope  that  the  author  of  these 
discourses  may  receive  wages,  as  Avell  in  this  country  as  his  own— wagers  such  as  best  pay 
the  devoted  minister  of  Christ;  that  he  may  reap  where  he  did  not  think  of  sowing,  and 
gather  Avhere  he  did  not  expect  to  strew,  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  our  blessed  Lord. 

and  only  Savior,  Jesus  Christ. 

^  '  C.  P.  M. 

Gam'jior,  Ohio,  Ju'y  l,18o6. 


SERMON  I. 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


"And  I  will  put  enmity  between  thee  and  the  woman,  and  between  thy  seed  and  her  seed:  it  shall  bruise  thy  head, 
and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel." — Genesis,  iii :  15. 


Such  is  the  first  prophecy  which  oc- 
curs in  Scripture.  Adam  and  Eve  had 
transgressed  the  simple  command  of 
their  Maker ;  they  had  hearkened  to  the 
suggestions  of  the  tempter,  and  eaten  of 
the  forbidden  fruit.  Summoned  into  the 
presence  of  God,  each  of  the  three  par- 
ties is  successively  addressed;  but  the 
serpent,  as  having  originated  evil,  re- 
ceives first  his  sentence. 

We  have,  of  course,  no  power  of  as- 
certaining the  external  change  which 
the  curse  brought  upon  the  serpent. 
The  terms,  however,  of  the  sentence, 
"  upon  thy  belly  shalt  thou  go,  and  dust 
shalt  thou  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life," 
Gen.  3:14,  seem  to  imply  that  the  ser- 
pent had  not  been  created  a  reptile,  but 
became  classed  with  creeping  things,  as 
a  consequence  of  the  curse.  It  is  proba- 
ble that  heretofore  the  serpent  had  been 
remarkable  for  beauty  and  splendor,  and 
that  on  this  account  the  tempter  chose  it 
as  the  vehicle  of  his  approaches.  Eve,  in 
all  likelihood,  was  attracted  towards  the 
creature  by  its  loveliness  :  and  when  she 
found  it  endowed,  like  herself,  with  the 
power  of  speech,  she  possibly  concluded 
that  it  had  itself  eaten  of  the  fruit,  and  ac- 
quired thereby  a  gift  which  she  thought 
confined  to  herself  and  her  husband. 

But  we  may  be  sure,  that,  although, 
to  mark  his  hatred  of  sin,  God  pro- 
nounced a  curse  on  the  serpent,  it  was 
against  the  devil,  who  had  actuated  the 
serpent,  that  the  curse  was  chiefly  di- 
rected. It  may  be  said  that  the  serpent 
itself  must  have  been  innocent  in  the 
matter,  and  that  the  curse  should  have 
fallen  on  none  but  the  tempter.  But 
you  are  to  remember  that  the  serpent 


suffered  not  alone :  every  living  thing 
had  share  in  the  consequences  of  dis- 
obedience. And  although  the  effect  of 
man's  apostacy  on  the  serpent  may  have 
been  more  signal  and  marked  than  on 
other  creatures,  we  have  no  right  to 
conclude  that  there  was  entailed  so 
much  gi-eater  suffering  on  this  reptile 
as  to  distinguish  it  in  misery  from  the 
rest  of  the  animal  creation. 

But  undoubtedly  it  was  the  devil, 
more  emphatically  than  the  serpent,  that 
.God  cursed  for  the  seduction  of  man. 
The  woids,  indeed,  of  our  text  have  a 
primary  application  to  the  serpent.  It 
is  most  strictly  true,  that,  ever  since  the 
fall,  there  has  been  enmity  between  man 
and  the  serpent.  Every  man  will  in- 
stinctively recoil  at  the  sight  of  a  ser- 
pent. We  have  a  natural  and  unconquer- 
able aversion  from  this  tribe  of  livino- 
...  .  ^ 

things,  which  we  feel  not  in  respect  to 

others,  even  fiercer  and  more  noxious. 
Men,  if  they  find  a  serpent,  will  always 
strive  to  destroy  it,  bruising  the  head  in 
which  the  poison  lies ;  whilst  the  serpent 
will  often  avenge  itself,  wounding  its  as- 
sailant, if  not  mortally,  yet  so  as  to  make 
it  true  that  it  bruises  his  heel. 

But  whilst  the  words  have  thus,  un- 
doubtedly, a  fulfilment  in  respect  of  the 
serpent,  we  cannot  question  that  their 
reference  is  chiefly  to  the  devil.  It  was 
the  devil,  and  not  the  serpent,  which 
had  beguiled  the  woman ;  and  it  is  only 
in  a  very  limited  sense  that  it  could  be 
said  to  the  sei-pent,  "  Because  thou  hast 
done  this."  We  are  indeed  so  unac- 
quainted with  transactions  in  the  world 
of  spirits,  that  we  cannot  pretend  to  de- 
termine what,  or  whether  any^  iramedi" 
2 


10 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


ate  change  passed  on  the  condition  of 
Satan  and  his  associates.  If  the  curse 
upon  the  serpent  took  effect  upon  the 
devil,  it  would  seem  probable,  that,  ever 
since  the  fall,  the  power  of  Satan  has 
been  specially  limited  to  this  earth  and 
its  inhabitants.  We  may  gather  from 
the  dennuciation,  "Upon  thy  belly  shalt 
thou  go,  and  dust  shalt  thou  eat  all  the 
days  of  thy  life,"  that,  in  place  of  being 
allowed,  as  he  might  before  time  have 
been,  to  range  through  the  universe, 
machinating  against  the  peace  of  many 
orders  of  intelligence,  he  was  confined 
to  the  arena  of  humanity,  and  forced  to 
concentrate  his  energies  on  the  destruc- 
tion of  a  solitary  race.  It  would  seem 
altogether  possible,  that,  after  his  eject- 
ment from  heaven,  Satan  had  liberty  to 
traverse  the  vast  area  of  creation;  and 
that  far-off  stars  and  planets  were  ac- 
cessible to  his  wanderings.  It  is  to  the 
full  as  possible,  that,  as  soon  as  man 
apostatized,  God  confirmed  in  their  al- 
legiance other  orders  of  beings,  and 
shielded  them  from  the  assaults  of  the 
evil  one,  by  chaining  him  to  the  earth 
on  which  he  had  just  won  a  victory. 
And  if,  as  the  result  of  his  having  se- 
duced our  first  parents,  Satan  were  thus 
sentenced  to  confinement  to  this  globe, 
we  may  readily  understand  how  words, 
addressed  to  the  serpent,  dooming  it  to 
trail  itself  along  the  ground,  had  distinct 
reference  to  the  tempter  by  whom  that 
serpent  had  been  actuated. 

But,  whatever  be  our  opinion  concern- 
ing this  part  of  the  curse,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  our  text  must  be  explained 
of  the  devil,  though,  as  we  have  shown 
you,  it  has  a  partial  fulfilment  in  respect 
of  the  serpent.  We  must  here  consider 
God  as  speaking  to  the  tempter,  and 
announcing  war  between  Satan  and 
man.  We  have  called  the  words  a 
prophecy;  and,  when  considered  as  ad- 
dressed to  the  devil,  such  is  properly 
their  designation.  But  when  we  re- 
member that  they  were  spoken  in  the 
hearing  of  Adam  and  Eve,  we  must  re- 
gard them  also  in  the  light  of  a  promise. 
And  it  is  well  worth  remark,  that,  be- 
fore God  told  the  woman  of  her  sorrow 
and  her  trouble,  and  before  he  told  the 
man  of  the  thorn,  and  the  thistle,  and 
the  dust  to  which  he  should  return,  he 
caused  them  to  hear  words  which  must 
have  inspired  them  with  hope.  Van- 
l     quished  they  were :  and  they  might  have 


thought  that,  with  an  undisputed  su- 
premacy, he  who  had  prevailed  to  their 
overthrow  would  ever  after  hold  them 
in  vassalage.  Must  it  not  then  have  been 
cheeiing  to  them,  whilst  they  stood  as 
criminals  before  their  God,  expecting 
the  sentence  which  disobedience  had 
provoked,  to  hear  that  their  conqueror 
should  not  enjoy  unassaulted  his  con- 
quest, but  that  there  were  yet  unde- 
veloped aiTangements  which  would  en- 
sure to  humanity  final  mastery  over  the 
oppressor?  And  though,  when  God 
turned  and  spake  to  themselves,  he  gave 
no  word  of  encouragement,  but  dwelt 
only  on  the  toil  and  the  death  which 
they  had  wrought  into  their  portion,  still 
the  prophecy  to  which  they  had  listened 
must  have  sunk  into  their  hearts  as 
a  promise ;  and  when,  with  lingering 
steps,  and  the  first  tears  ever  wept,  they 
departed  from  the  glorious  precincts  of 
Eden,  we  may  believe  that  one  sustain- 
ed the  other  by  whispering  the  words, 
though  "thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel,  it 
shall  bruise  thy  head." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  intima- 
tions of  redemption  were  given  to  our 
guilty  parents,  and  that  they  were  in- 
structed by  God  to  offer  sacrifices  which 
should  shadow  out  the  method  of  atone- 
ment. And  though  it  does  not  of  course 
follow  that  we  are  in  possession  of  all 
the  notices  mercifully  afforded,  it  seems 
fair  to  conclude,  as  well  fi-om  the  time 
of  delivery  as  fi'om  the  nature  of  the  an- 
nouncement, that  our  text  was  designed 
to  convey  comfort  to  the  desponding; 
and  that  it  was  received  as  a  message 
breathing  deliverance  by  those  who  ex- 
pected an  utter  condemnation.         » 

We  are  not,  however,  much  concerned 
with  the  degi-ee  in  which  the  prophecy 
was  at  first  understood.  It  cannot  justly 
be  called  an  obscure  prophecy :  for  it  is 
quite  clear  on  the  fact,  that,  by  some 
means  or  another,  man  should  gain  ad- 
vantage over  Satan.  And  though,  if  con- 
sidered as  referring  to  Christ,  there  be 
a  mystery  about  it,  which  could  only  be 
cleared  up  by  after  events,  yet,  as  a 
general  prediction  of  victory,  it  must 
have  commended  itself,  we  think,  to  the 
understanding  and  the  heart  of  those  of 
our  race  by  whom  it  was  first  heard. 

But  whether  or  no  the  prophecy  were 
intelligible  to  Adam  and  Eve,  unto  our- 
selves it  is  a  wonderful  passage,  spread- 
ing itself  over  the  whole  of  time,  and 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


11 


giving  outlines  of  the  history  of  this 
world  from  the  beginning  to  the  final 
consummation.  We  caution  you  at  once 
against  an  idea  which  many  have  enter- 
tained, that  the  prediction  before  us  re- 
fers only,  or  even  chiefly,  to  the  Re- 
deemer. We  shall  indeed  find,  as  we 
proceed,  that  Christ,  who  was  specially 
the  seed  of  the  woman,  specially  bruised 
the  head  of  the  serpent.  But  the  pro- 
phecy is  to  be  interpreted  in  a  much 
larger  sense.  It  is  nothing  less  than  a 
dehneation  of  an  unwearied  conflict,  of 
which  this  earth  shall  be  the  theatre, 
and  which  shall  issue,  though  not  with- 
out partial  disaster  to  man,  in  the  com- 
plete discomfiture  of  Satan  and  his  asso- 
ciates. And  no  man  who  is  familiar  Avith 
other  predictions  of  Scripture,  can  fail 
to  find,  in  this  brief  and  solitary  verse, 
the  announcement  of  those  very  strug- 
gles and  conquests  which  occupy  the 
gorgeous  poetry  of  Isaiah,  and  crowd  the 
mystic  canvass  of  Daniel  and  St.  John. 
We  wish  you,  therefore,  to  dismiss, 
if  you  have  ever  entertained,  contracted 
views  of  the  meaning  of  our  text.  It 
must  strike  you  at  the  first  glance,  that 
though  Christ  was  in  a  peculiar  sense 
the  seed  of  the  woman,  the  phrase  ap- 
phes  to  others  as  well  as  the  Redeemer. 
We  are  therefore  bound,  by  all  fair  laws 
of  interpretation,  to  consider  that  the 
prophecy  must  be  fulfilled  in  more  than 
one  individual;  especially  as  it  declares 
that  the  woman,  as  well  as  her  seed, 
should  entertain  the  enmity,  and  thus 
marks  out  more  than  a  single  party  as 
engaging  in  the  conflict. 

Now  there  are  one  or  two  prelimina- 
ry observations  which  require  all  your 
attention,  if  you  hope  to  enter  into  the 
full  meaning  of  the  prediction. 

We  wish  you,  first  of  all,  to  remark 
particularly  the  expression,  "  I  will  put 
enmity."  The  enmity,  you  observe, 
had  no  natural  existence  :  God  declares 
his  intention  of  putting  enmity.  As 
soon  as  man  transgressed,  his  nature  be- 
came evil,  and  therefore  he  was  at  peace, 
and  not  at  war  with  the  devil.  And 
thus,  had  there  been  no  interference  on 
the  part  of  the  Almighty,  Satan  and  man 
would  have  formed  alliance  against  hea- 
ven, and,  in  place  of  a  contest  between 
themselves,  have  earned  on  nothing  but 
battle  with  God.  There  is  not,  and  can- 
not be,  a  native  enmity  between  fallen 
angels  and  fallen  men.     Both  are  evil. 


and  both  became  evil  through  apostacy. 
But  evil,  wheresoever  it  exists,  will  al- 
ways league  against  good;  so  that  fallen 
angels  and  fallen  men  were  sure  to  join 
in  a  desperate  companionship.  Hence 
the  declaration,  that  enmity  should  be 
put,  must  have  been  to  Satan  the  first 
notice  of  redemption.  This  lofty  spirit 
must  have  calculated,  that,  if  he  could 
induce  men,  as  he  had  induced  angels, 
to  join  in  rebellion,  he  should  have  them 
for  allies  in  his  every  enterprise  against 
heaven.  There  was  nothing  of  enmity 
between  himself  and  the  spirits  who  had 
joined  in  the  effort  to  dethrone  the  Om- 
nipotent. At  least  whatever  the  feuds 
and  jarrings  which  might  disturb  the 
rebels,  they  were  linked,  as  with  an  iron 
band,  in  the  one  great  object  of  opposing 
good.  So  that  when  he  heard  that  there 
should  be  enmity  between  himself  and 
the  woman,  he  must  have  felt  that  some 
apparatus  would  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  man ;  and  that,  though  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  depraving  human  nature,  and 
thus  assimilating  it  to  his  own,  it  should 
be  renewed  by  some  mysterious  process, 
and  wrought  up  to  the  lost  power  of  re- 
sisting its  conqueror. 

And  accordingly  it  has  come  to  pass, 
that  there  is  enmity  on  the  earth  be- 
tween man  and  Satan;  but  an  enmity 
supernaturally  put,  and  not  naturally 
entertained.  Unless  God  pour  his  con- 
verting grace  into  the  soul,  there  will  be 
no  attempt  to  oppose  Satan,  but  we  shall 
continue  to  the  end  of  our  days  his  wil- 
ling captives  and  servants.  And  there- 
fore it  is  God  who  puts  the  enmity. 
Introducing  a  new  principle  into  the 
heart,  he  causes  conflict  where  there 
had  heretofore  been  peace,  inclining  and 
enabling  man  to  rise  against  his  tyrant. 
So  that,  in  these  first  words  of  the  pro- 
phecy, you  have  the  clearest  Intimation 
that  God  designed  to  visit  the  depraved 
nature  with  a  renovating  energy.  And 
now,  whensoever  you  see  an  individual 
delivered  from  the  love,  and  endowed 
with  a  hatred  of  sui,  resisting  those  pas- 
sions which  held  naturally  sway  within 
his  breast,  and  thus  grappling  with  tlie 
fallen  spirit  which  claims  dominion  upon 
earth,  you  are  surveying  the  workings 
of  a  principle  which  is  wholly  from 
above  ;  and  you  are  to  consider  that  you 
have  before  you  the  fulfilment  of  the 
declaration,  "  I  will  put  enmity  between 
thee  and  the  woman." 


12 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


We  go  on  to  observe  that  the  enmity, 
being  thus  a  superhuman  thing,  implant- 
ed by  God  and  not  generated  by  man, 
will  not  subsist  universally,  but  only  in 
particular  cases.  You  will  have  seen, 
from  our  foregoing  showings,  that  a  man 
must  be  renewed  in  order  to  his  fighting 
with  Satan;  so  that  God's  putting  the 
enmity  is  God's  giving  saving  grace. 
The  prophecy  cannot  be  interpreted  as 
declaring  that  the  whole  human  race 
should  be  at  war  with  the  devil:  the 
undoubted  matter-of-fact  being  that  only 
a  portion  of  the  race  resumes  its  loyalty 
to  Jehovah.  And  we  are  bound,  there- 
fore, before  proceeding  further  with  our 
interpretation,  to  examine  whether  this 
limitation  is  marked  out  by  the  predic- 
tion— whether,  that  is,  we  might  infer, 
from  the  terms  of  the  prophecy,  that  the 
placed  enmity  would  be  partial,  not  uni- 
versal. 

Now  we  think  that  the  expression, 
"Thy  seed  and  her  seed,"  shows  at 
once  that  the  enmity  would  be  felt  by 
only  a  part  of  mankind.  The  enmity 
is  to  subsist,  not  merely  between  Satan 
and  the  woman,  but  between  his  seed 
and  her  seed.  But  the  seed  of  Satan 
can  only  be  interpreted  of  wicked  men. 
Thus  Christ  said  to  the  Jews,  "Ye  are 
of  your  father  the  devil ;  and  the  lusts 
of  your  father  ye  will  do."  John,  8  :  44. 
Thus  also,  in  expounding  the  parable  of 
the  tares  and  the  wheat,  he  said,  "  The 
tares  arc  the  children  of  the  wicked  one." 
Matt.  13 :  38.  There  is,  probably,  the 
same  reference  in  the  expression,  "O 
generation  of  vipers."  And,  in  like  man- 
ner, you  find  St.  John  declaring,  "  He 
that  committeth  sin  is  of  the  devil." 
1  John,  3 :  8.  Thus,  then,  by  the  seed  of 
Satan  we  understand  wicked  men,  those 
v/ho  resist  God's  Spirit,  and  obstinately 
adhere  to  the  service  of  the  devil.  And 
if  we  must  interpret  the  seed  of  Satan 
of  a  portion  of  mankind,  it  is  evident 
that  the  prophecy  marks  not  out  the  en- 
mity as  general,  but  indicates  just  that 
limitation  which  has  been  supposed  in 
our  preceding  remarks. 

But  then  the  question  occurs,  how  are 
we  to  interpret  the  woman  and  her  seed  1 
Such  expression  seems  to  denote  the 
whole  human  race.  What  right  have 
we  to  limit  it  to  a  part  of  that  race  1  We 
reply,  that  it  certainly  does  not  denote 
the  whole  human  race  :  for  if  you  inter- 
pret it  literally  of  Eve  and  her  descend- 


ants, Adam,  at  least,  is  left  out,  who 
was  neither  the  woman  nor  her  seed. 
But  without  insisting  on  the  objection 
under  this  form,  fatal  as  it  is  to  the  pro- 
posed intei'pretation,  we  should  not  be 
waiTanted,  though  we  have  no  distinct 
account  of  the  faith  and  repentance  of 
Adam,  in  so  explaining  a  passage  as  to 
exclude  our  common  forefather  from 
final  salvation.  You  must  see,  that,  if 
we  take  literally  the  woman  and  her 
seed,  no  enmity  was  put  between  Adam 
and  Satan;  for  Adam  was  neither  the 
woman  nor  the  seed  of  the  woman. 
And  if  Adam  continued  in  friendship 
with  Satan,  it  must  be  certain  that  he 
perished  in  his  sins :  a  conclusion  to 
which  we  dare  not  advance  without 
scriptural  testimony  the  most  clear  and 
explicit. 

We  cannot,  then,  understand  the  wo- 
man and  her  seed,  as  Eve  and  her  natu- 
ral descendants.  We  must  rather  be- 
lieve, that  as  the  seed  of  the  serpent  is 
to  be  interpreted  spiritually  and  sym- 
bolically, so  also  is  the  seed  of  the  wo- 
man. And  when  you  remember  that 
Eve  was  a  signal  type  of  the  church, 
there  is  an  end  of  the  difficulties  by 
which  we  seem  met.  You  know,  from 
the  statement  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Romans, 
that  Adam  was  the  figure  of  Christ.  Rom, 
5:14.  Now  it  was  his  standing  to  Eve 
in  the  very  same  relationship  in  which 
Christ  stands  to  the  church, which  special- 
ly made  Adam  the  figure  of  Christ.  The 
side  of  Adam  had  been  oj^ened,  when  a 
deep  sleep  fell  on  him,  in  order  that  Eve 
might  be  formed,  an  extract  from  him- 
self. And  thus,  as  Hooker  saith,  "God 
frameth  the  church  out  of  the  very  flesh, 
the  very  wounded  and  bleeding  side  of 
the  Son  of  Man.  His  body  crucified, 
and  his  blood  shed  for  the  life  of  the 
world,  are  the  true  elements  of  that  hea- 
venly being  which  maketh  us  such  as 
himself  is,  of  whom  we  come.  For 
which  cause  the  words  of  Adam  may  be 
fitly  the  words  of  Christ  concerning  his 
church,  *  Flesh  of  my  flesh,  and  bone  of 
my  bones.' "  We  cannot  go  at  length 
into  the  particulars  of  the  typical  resem- 
blance between  Eve  and  the  church.  It 
is  sufficient  to  observe,  that  since  Adam, 
the  husband  of  Eve,  was  the  figure  of 
Christ,  and  since  Christ  is  the  husband 
of  the  church,  it  seems  naturally  to  fol- 
low that  Eve  was  the  figure  or  type  of 
the  church.     And  when  we  have  estab- 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


13 


lished  this  typical  character  of  Eve,  it  is 
easy  to  understand  who  are  meant  by  the 
woman  and  her  seed.  The  true  church 
of  God  in  eveiy  age — whether  you  con- 
sider it  as  represented  by  its  head,  which 
is  Christ;  whether  you  survey  it  collec- 
tively as  a  body,  or  resolve  it  into  its 
separate  members — this  true  church  of 
God  must  be  regarded  as  denoted  by  the 
woman  and  her  seed.  And  though  you 
may  think — for  we  wish,  as  we  proceed, 
to  anticipate  objections — that,  if  Eve  be 
the  church,  it  is  strange  that  her  seed 
should  be  also  the  church,  yet  it  is  the 
common  usage  of  Scripture  to  represent 
the  church  as  the  mother,  and  every  new 
convert  as  a  child.  Thus,  in  addressing 
the  Jewish  church,  and  describing  her 
glory  and  her  greatness  in  the  latter 
days,  Isaiah  saith,  "  Thy  sons  shall  come 
from  far,  and  thy  daughters  shall  be 
nursed  at  thy  side,"  And  again — con- 
trasting the  Jewish  and  Gentile  churches 
— "  More  are  the  children  of  the  deso- 
late than  the  children  of  the  married 
wife,  saith  the  Lord."  So  that  although 
the  church  can  be  nothing  more  than  the 
aggregate  of  individual  believers,  the  in- 
spired -writers  commonly  describe  the 
church  as  a  parent,  and  believers  as  the 
offspring;  and  in  understanding,  there- 
fore, the  church  and  its  members  by  the 
woman  and  her  seed,  we  cannot  be  ad- 
vocating a  forced  interpretation. 

And  now  we  have  made  a  long  ad- 
vance towards  the  thorough  elucidation 
of  the  prophecy.  We  have  shown  you, 
that,  inasmuch  as  the  enmity  is  super- 
naturally  put,  it  can  only  exist  in  a  por- 
tion of  mankind.  We  then  endeavored 
to  ascertain  this  portion :  and  we  found 
that  the  true  church  of  God,  in  every 
age,  comprehends  all  those  who  war 
with  Satan  and  his  seed.  So  that  the 
representation  of  the  prediction — a  re- 
presientation  whose  justice  we  have  yet 
to  examine — is  simply  that  of  a  perpetu- 
al conflict,  on  this  earth,  between  wicked 
angels  and  wicked  men  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  church  of  God,  or  the  company 
of  true  believers  on  the  other;  such  con- 
flict, though  occasioning  partial  injury 
to  the  church,  always  issuing  in  the  dis- 
comfiture of  the  wicked. 

We  now  set  ourselves  to  demonstrate 
the  accuracy  of  this  representation.  We 
have  already  said  that  there  are  three 
points  of  view  in  which  the  church  may 
be  regarded.     We  may  consider  it,   as 


represented  by  its  head,  which  is  Christ; 
secondly,  collectively  as  a  body ;  thirdly, 
as  resolved  into  its  separate  members. 
We  shall  endeavor  to  show  you  briefly, 
in  each  of  these  cases,  the  fidelity  of  the 
description,  '•  It  shall  bruise  thy  head, 
and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel." 

Now  the  enmity  was  never  put  in  such 
overpowering  measure,  as  when  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  was  its  residence.  It  was 
in  Christ  Jesus  in  one  sense  naturally, 
and  in  another  supematurally.  He  was 
bom  pure,  and  with  a  native  hatred  of 
sin;  but  then  he  had  been  miraculously 
generated,  in  order  that  his  nature  might 
be  thus  hostile  to  evil.  And  neA^er  did 
there  move  the  being  on  this  earth  who 
hated  sin  with  as  perfect  a  hatred,  or 
who  was  as  odious  in  return  to  all  the 
emissaries  of  darkness.  It  was  just  the 
holiness  of  the  Mediator  which  stiiTed 
up  against  him  all  the  passions  of  a  pro- 
fligate world,  and  provoked  that  fury  of 
assault  which  rushed  in  from  the  hosts 
of  reprobate  spirits.  There  was  thrown 
a  perpetual  reproach  on  a  proud  and 
sensual  generation,  by  the  spotlessness 
of  that  righteous  individual,  "who  did 
no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth."  1  Pet.  2  :  22.  And  if  he  had  not 
been  so  far  separated,  by  the  purities  of 
life  and  conversation,  from  all  others  of 
his  nature ;  or  if  vice  had  received  a 
somewhat  less  tremendous  rebuke  from 
the  blamelessness  of  his  every  action; 
we  may  be  sure  that  his  might  and  be- 
nevolence would  have  gathered  the  na- 
tion to  his  discipleship,  and  that  the 
multitude  would  never  have  been  work- 
ed up  to  demand  his  crucifixion. 

The  great  secret  of  the  opposition  to 
Christ  lay  in  the  fact,  that  he  was  not 
such  an  one  as  ourselves.  We  are  ac- 
customed to  think  that  the  lowliness  of 
his  condition,  and  the  want  of  external 
majesty  and  pomp,  moved  the  Jews  to 
reject  their  Messiah :  yet  it  is  by  no 
means  clear  that  these  were,  in  the  main, 
the  producing  causes  of  rejection.  If 
Christ  came  not  with  the  purple  and  cir- 
cumstance of  human  sovereignty,  he  dis- 
played the  possession  of  a  supernatural 
power,  which,  even  on  the  most  carnal 
calculation,  was  more  valuable,  because 
more  effective,  than  the  stanchest  appa- 
ratus of  earthly  supremacy.  The  pea- 
sant, who  could  work  the  miracles  which 
Christ  worked,  would  be  admitted,  on 
all  hands,  to  have  mightier  engines  at  his 


14 


THE    FreST    PKOPHECT, 


disposal  tlian  the  prince  who  is  clothed 
with  the  ermine  and  followed  by  the  war- 
riors. And  if  the  Jews  looked  for  a  Mes- 
siah who  would  lead  them  to  mastery 
over  enemies,  then,  we  contend,  there 
was  every  thing  in  Christ  to  induce  them 
to  give  him  their  allegiance.  The  power 
which  could  vanquish  death  hy  a  word 
might  cause  hosts  to  fall,  as  fell  the  hosts 
of  Sennacherib;  and  where  then  was  the 
foe  who  could  have  resisted  the  leader  1 
We  cannot,  therefore,  think  that  it 
was  merely  the  absence  of  human  pa- 
geantry which  moved  the  great  ones  of 
Judea  to  throw  scorn  upon  Jesus.  It  is 
true,  they  were  expecting  an  earthly  de- 
liverer. But  Christ  displayed  precisely 
those  powers,  which  wielded  by  Moses, 
had  prevailed  to  deliver  their  nation 
from  Egypt ;  and  assuredly  then,  if  that 
strength  dwelt  in  Jesus  which  had  dis- 
comfited Pharaoh,  and  broken  the  thral- 
dom of  centuries,  it  could  not  have  been 
the  proved  incapacity  of  effecting  tempo- 
ral deliverance  which  induced  pharisees 
and  scribes  to  reject  their  Messiah.  They 
could  have  tolerated  the  meanness  of  his 
parentage ;  for  that  was  more  than  com- 
pensated by  the  majesty  of  his  power. 
They  could  have  endured  the  lowliness  of 
his  appearance ;  for  they  could  set  against 
it  his  evident  communion  with  divinity. 
But  the  righteous  fervor  with  which 
Christ  denounced  every  abomination  in 
the  land ;  the  untainted  purity  by  which 
he  shamed  the  "  whited  sepulchres"  who 
deceived  the  people  by  the  appearance 
of  sanctity ;  the  rich  loveliness  of  a  cha- 
racter in  which  zeal  for  God's  glory  was  j 
unceasingly  uppermost ;  the  beautiful  i 
lustre  which  encompassed  a  being  who  j 
could  hate  only  one  thing,  but  that  one 
thing  sin;  these  were  the  producing 
causes  of  bitter  hostility ;  and  they  who 
would  have  hailed  the  wonder-worker 
with  the  shout  and  the  plaudit,  had  he 
allowed  some  license  to  the  evil  passions 
of  our  nature,  gave  him  nothing  but  the 
sneer  and  the  execration,  when  he  waged 
open  war  with  lust  and  hypocrisy. 

And  thus  it  was  that  enmity,  the  fierc- 
est and  most  inveterate,was  put  between 
the  seed  of  the  woman  and  the  seed  of 
the 'serpent.  The  serpent  himself  came 
to  the  assistance  of  his  seed;  evil  angels 
conspired  with  evil  men ;  and  the  whole 
energies  of  apostacy  gathered  themselves 
to  the  effort  of  destroying  the  champi- 
on of  God  and  of  truth.     Yea,  and  for  a 


while  success  seemed  to  attend  the  en- 
deavor. There  was  a  bruising  of  the 
heel  of  the  seed  of  the  woman.  "He 
came  unto  his  own,  and  his  own  received 
him  not."  John,  1:  11.  Charged  only 
with  an  embassage  of  mercy;  sent  by 
the  Father — ^not  to  condemn  the  world, 
though  rebellion  had  overspread  its  pro- 
vinces, and  there  was  done  the  foulest 
despite  to  God,  in  its  evei-y  section,  and 
by  its  every  tenant — ^but  that  the  world 
through  him  might  have  life;  he  was, 
nevertheless,  scorned  as  a  deceiver,  and 
hunted  down  as  a  malefactor.  And  if  it 
were  a  bruising  of  the  heel,  that  he  should 
be  "a  man  of  soitows  and  acquainted 
with  giief,"  Isaiah,  53:  3;  that  a  nation 
should  despise  him,  and  friends  deny  and 
forsake  and  betray  him ;  that  he  should 
be  buffeted  with  temptation,  convulsed 
by  agony,  lacei-ated  by  stripes,  pierced 
by  nails,  crowned  with  thorns;  then  was 
the  heel  of  the  Redeemer  bruised  by 
Satan,  for  to  all  this  injury  the  fallen 
angel  instigated  and  nerved  his  seed. 
But  though  the  heel  was  bruised,  this 
was  the  whole  extent  of  effected  damage. 
There  was  no  real  advantage  gained  over 
the  Mediator :  on  the  contrary,  whilst  Sa- 
tan was  in  the  act  of  bruising  Christ's 
heel,  Christ  was  in  the  act  of  bruising 
Satan's  head.  The  Savior,  indeed,  ex- 
posed himself  to  every  kind  of  insult  and 
wrong.  Whilst  enduring  "  the  contradic- 
tion of  sinnei-s  against  himself,"  Heb.  12 : 
3,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  a  strange  re- 
sult was  brought  round  by  the  machina- 
tions of  the  evil  ones ;  for  suffering,  which 
is  the  attendant  on  sinfulness,  was  made 
to  empty  all  its  pangs  into  the  bosom  of 
innocence.  And  seeing  that  his  holiness 
should  have  exempted  his  humanity  from 
all  kinsmanship  with  sorrow  and  an- 
guish, we  are  free  to  allow  that  the  heel 
was  bi'uised,  when  pain  found  entrance 
into  this  humanity,  and  giief,  heavier 
than  had  oppressed  any  being  of  ouri-ace, 
weighed  down  his  over-wrought  spirit. 
But,  then,  there  was  not  an  iota  of  his 
sufferings  which  went  not  towai'ds  liqui- 
dating the  vast  debt  which  man  owed  to 
God,  and  which,  therefore,  contributed 
not  to  our  redemption  from  bondage. 
There  was  not  a  pang  by  which  the  Me- 
diator was  torn,  and  not  a  grief  by  which 
his  soul  was  disquieted,  which  helped 
not  on  the  achievement  of  human  deliv- 
erance, and  which,  therefore,  dealt  not 
out  a  blow  to  the  despotism  of  Satan. 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


15 


So  that,  from  the  beginning,  the  bruising 
of  Christ's  heel  was  the  bruising  of  Sa- 
tan's head.  In  prevaiUng,  so  far  as  he 
did  prevail,  against  Christ,  Satan  was 
only  eftecting  his  o%vn  discomfiture  and 
downfall.  He  touched  the  heel,  he  could 
not  touch  the  head  of  the  Mediator.  If 
he  could  have  seduced  him  into  the  com- 
mission of  evil ;  if  he  could  have  pro- 
faned, by  a  solitary  thought,  the  sanctu- 
ary of  his  soul ;  then  it  would  have  been 
the  head  which  he  had  bruised;  and 
rising  triumphant  over  man's  surety,  he 
would  have  shouted,  "Victory!"  and 
this  creation  have  become  for  ever  his 
own.  But  whilst  he  could  only  cause 
pain,  and  not  pollution ;  whilst  he  could 
dislocate  by  agony,  but  not  defile  by  im- 
purity ;  he  reached  indeed  the  heel,  but 
came  not  near  the  head ;  and,  making 
the  Savior's  life-time  one  dark  scries  of 
afflictions,  weakened,  at  every  step,  his 
ovvai  hold  upon  humanity. 

And  when,  at  last,  he  so  bruised  the 
heel  as  to  nail  Christ  to  the  cross,  amid 
the  loathings  and  revilings  of  the  multi- 
tude, then  it  was  that  his  own  head  was 
bruised,    even    to    the    being    crushed. 
"Through  death,"  we  are  told,  "Christ 
Jesus  destroyed  him  that  had  the  power 
of  death,  that  is,  the  devil."    Heb.  2 :  14. 
He  fell  indeed;  and  evil  angels,  and  evil 
men,  might  have  thought  him  for  ever  de- 
feated. But  in  grasping  this  mighty  prey, 
death  paralyzed  itself;  in  breaking  down 
the  temple,   Satan  demolished  his  owni 
throne.     It  was,  as  ye  all  know,  by  dy- 
ing, that  Christ  finished  the  achievement 
which,   from  all   eternity,   he  had  cove- 
nanted to  undertake.     By  dying,  he  rein- 
stated fallen  man  in  the   position  from 
which  he  had  been  hurled.     Death  came 
against  the   Mediator;    but,  in  submit- 
ting to  it,   Christ,  if  we  may  use   such 
image,   seized    on    the   destroyer,    and, 
waving  the  skeleton-form   as  a  sceptre 
over  this  creation,  broke  the  spell  of  a 
thousand  generations,  dashing  away  the 
chains,  and  opening  the  graves,  of  an 
oppressed  and  rifled  population.     And 
when  he  had  died,  and  descended  into 
the  grave,  and  returned  without  seeing 
corruption,   then  was  it  made   possible 
that  eveiy  child  of  Adam  might  be  eman- 
cipated from  the  dominion  of  evil ;  and, 
in  place  of  the  wo  and  the  shame  which 
transgression  had  won  as  the  heritage  of 
man,  there  was  the  beautiful  brightness 
of  a  purchased  immortality  wooing  the 


acceptance  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of 
our  race.     The  strong  man  armed  had 
kept  his   goods   in   peace ;    and   Satan, 
having  seduced  men  to  be  his  compan- 
ions in  rebellion,  might  have  felt  secure 
of  having  them  as  his  companions  in  tor- 
ment.    But  the  stronger  than  he  drew 
nigh,  and,  measuring  weapons  with  him 
in  the  garden  and  on  the  cross,  received 
wounds  which  were  but  trophies  of  vic- 
tory, and  dealt  wounds  which  annihilated 
power.     And  when,  bruised  indeed,  yet 
only  marked  with  honorable  scars  which 
told  out  his  triumph  to  the  loftiest  orders 
of  intelligent  being,  the  Redeemer  of 
mankind  soared  on  high,  and  sent  pro- 
clamation   through    the    universe,    that 
death  was  abohshed,  and  the  ruined  re- 
deemed, and  the  gates  of  heaven  throvm 
open  to  the  rebel  and  the  outcast,  was 
there  not  an  accomplishment,  the  most 
literal  and  the  most  energetic,  of  that 
prediction  which  declared  to  Satan  con- 
cerninor  the  seed  of  the  woman,  "  it  shall 
bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his 
beeir' 

Such  is  the  first  and  great  fulfilment 
of  the  prophecy.  The  church,  repre- 
sented by  its  head  who  was  specially 
the  seed  of  the  woman,  overthrew  the 
devil  in  one  decisive  and  desperate  strug- 
gle, and,  though  not  itself  unwounded, 
received  no  blow  which  rebounded  not 
to  the  crushing  its  opponent. 

We  proceed,  secondly,  to  consider  the 
church  collectively  as  a  body.  We  need 
scarcely  observe  that,  from  the  first,  the 
righteous  amongst  men  have  been  ob- 
jects of  the  combined  -  assault  of  their 
evil  fellows  and  evil  angels.  The  enmity 
has  been  put,  and  strikingly  developed. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  has  been  the  endea- 
vor of  the  church  to  vindicate  God's 
honor,  and  arrest  the  workings  of  wick- 
edness :  on  the  other,  it  has  been  the  ef- 
fort of  the  serpent  and  his  seed  to  sweep 
from  the  earth  these  upholders  of  piety. 
And  though  the  promise  has  all  along 
been  verified,  that  the  gates  of  hell  shall 
not  prevail  against  the  church,  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  a  great  measure  of  suc- 
cess has  attended  the  strivings  of  the  ad- 
versary. If  you  only  call  to  mind  what 
fierce  persecution  has  rushed  against  the 
rio^hteous;  how  by  one  engine  or  anoth- 
er' there  has  been,  oftentimes,  almost 
a  thorough  extinction  of  the  very  name 
of  Christianity ;  and  how,  when  outward- 
ly there  has  been  peace,  tares,  sown  by 


16 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


the  enemy,  have  sent  up  a  harvest  of 
perilous  heresies;  you  cannot  withhold 
your  acknowledgment  that  Satan  has 
bruised  the  heel  of  the  church.  But  he 
has  done  nothing  more.  If  he  have  hewn 
down  thousands  by  the  sword,  and  con- 
sumed thousands  at  the  stake,  thousands 
have  sprung  forward  to  fill  up  the  breach ; 
and  if  he  have  succeeded  in  pouring 
forth  a  flood  of  pestilential  doctrine,  there 
have  arisen  stanch  advocates  of  truth 
who  have  stemmed  the  torrent,  and 
snatched  the  articles  of  faith,  uninjured, 
from  the  deluge.  There  has  never  been 
the  time  when  God  has  been  left  with- 
out a  witness  upon  earth.  And  though 
the  church  has  often  been  sickly  and 
weak;  though  the  best  blood  has  been 
drained  from  her  veins,  and  a  languor, 
like  that  of  moral  palsy,  has  settled  on 
her  limbs ;  still  life  hath  never  been 
wholly  extinguished ;  but,  after  a  while, 
the  sinking  energies  have  been  marvel- 
lously recruited,  and  the  worn  and  wast- 
ed body  has  risen  up  more  athletic  than 
before,  and  displayed  to  the  nations  all 
the  vigor  of  renovated  youth. 

So  that  only  the  heel  has  been  bruised. 
And  since,  up  to  the  second  advent  of 
the  Lord,  the  church  shall  be  battered 
with  heresy,  and  persecution,  and  infi- 
delity, we  look  not,  under  the  present 
dispensation,  for  discontinuance  of  this 
bruising  of  the  heel.  Yet,  while  Satan 
is  bruising  the  church's  heel,  the  church, 
by  God's  help,  is  bruising  Satan's  head. 
The  church  may  be  compelled  to  pro- 
phesy in  sackcloth.  Affliction  may  be 
her  portion,  as  if  was  that  of  her  glorified 
head.  But  the  church  is,  throughout, 
God's  witness  upon  earth.  The  church 
is  God's  instrument  for  carrying  on  those 
purposes  which  shall  terminate  in  the 
final  setting  up  of  the  Mediator's  king- 
dom. And,  oh,  there  is  not  won  over  a 
single  soul  to  Christ,  and  the  Gospel 
message  makes  not  its  way  to  a  single 
heart,  without  an  attendant  effect  as  of 
a  stamping  on  the  head  of  the  tempter : 
for  a  captive  is  delivered  from  the  op- 
pressor, and  to  deliver  the  slave  is  to 
defeat  the  tyrant.  Thus  the  seed  of  the 
woman  is  continually  bruising  the  head 
of  the  serpent.  And  whensoever  the 
church,  as  an  engine  in  God's  hands, 
makes  a  successful  stand  for  piety  and 
truth ;  whensoever,  sending  out  her  mis- 
sionaries to  the  broad  waste  of  heathen- 
ism, she  demolishes  an  altar  of  supersti- 


tion, and  teaches  the  pagan  to  cast  his 
idols  to  the  mole  and  the  bat;  or  when- 
soever, assaulting  mere  nominal  Chris- 
tianity, she  fastens  men  to  practice  as 
the  alone  test  of  profession;  then  does 
she  strike  a  blow  which  is  felt  at  the  very 
centre  of  the  kingdom  of  darkness,  and 
then  is  she  experiencing  a  partial  fulfil- 
ment of  the  promise,  "  God  shall  bruise 
Satan  under  your  feet  shortly."  Rom. 
16:  20. 

And  when  the  fierce  and  on-going  con- 
flict shall  be  brought  to  a  close ;  when 
this  burdened  creation  shall  have  shaken 
off*  the  slaves  and  the  objects  of  concu- 
piscence, and  the  church  of  the  living 
God  shall  reign,  with  its  head,  over  the 
tribes  and  provinces  of  an  evangelized 
earth;  then  in  the  completeness  of  the 
triumph  of  righteousness  shall  be  the 
completeness  of  the  serpent's  discomfi- 
ture. And  as  the  angel  and  the  archan- 
gel contrast  the  slight  injury  which  Sa- 
tan could  ever  cause  to  the  church,  with 
that  overwhelming  ruin  which  the  church 
has,  at  last,  hurled  down  upon  Satan ;  as 
they  compare  the  brief  struggle  and  the 
everlasting  glory  of  the  one,  with  the 
shadowy  success  and  the  never-ending 
torments  of  the  other ;  will  they  not  de- 
cide, and  tell  out  their  decision  in  lan- 
guage of  rapture  and  admiration,  that,  if 
ever  prediction  were  fulfilled  to  the  very 
letter,  it  is  that  which,  addressed  to  the 
serpent,  and  describing  the  church  as  the 
seed  of  the  woman,  declared,  "it  shall 
bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt  bruise  his 
heel?" 

Such  is  the  second  fulfilment  of  the 
prophecy  of  our  text.  The  church,  con- 
sidered collectively  as  a  body,  is  so  as- 
saulted by  the  serpent  and  his  seed  that 
its  heel  is  bruised :  but  even  now  it  of- 
fers such  resistance  to  evil,  and  hereaftei' 
it  shall  triumph  so  signally  over  every 
opponent,  that  the  prediction,  "  it  shall 
bruise  thy  head,"  must  be  received  as 
destined  to  a  literal  accomplishment. 

We  have  yet  to  notice  the  third  fulfil- 
ment. We  may  resolve  the  church  into 
its  separate  members,  and,  taking  each 
individual  believer  as  the  seed  of  the 
woman,  show  you  how  our  text  is  real- 
ized in  his  experience. 

Now  if  there  be  enmity  between  the 
serpent  and  the  church  generally,  of 
course  there  is  also  between  the  sei-pent 
and  each  member  of  that  church.  We 
have  already  given  it  as  the  description 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


17 


of  a  converted  man,  that  he  has  been  su- 
pernaturally  excited  to  a  war  with  the 
devil.  Whilst  left  in  the  darkness  and 
alienation  of  nature,  he  submits  willing- 
ly to  the  dominion  of  evil :  evil  is  his  ele- 
ment, and  he  neither  strives  nor  wishes 
for  emancipation.  But  when  the  grace 
of  God  is  introduced  into  his  heart,  he 
will  discern  quickly  the  danger  and  hate- 
fulness  of  sin,  and  will  yield  hi}nself,  in 
a  higher  strength  than  his  own,  to  the 
work  of  resisting  the  serpent.  Thus  en- 
mity is  put  between  the  believer  and  the 
serpent  and  his  seed.  Let  a  man  give 
himself  to  the  concerns  of  eternity; 
let  him,  in  good  eaniest,  set  about  the 
business  of  the  soul's  salvation;  and  he 
will,  assuredly,  draw  upon  himself  the 
dislike  and  opposition  of  a  whole  circle 
of  worldly  acquaintance,  so  that  his  over- 
preciseness  and  austerity  will  become 
subject  of  ridicule  in  his  village  or  neigh- 
borhood. We  quite  mistake  the  nature 
both  of  Christianity  and  of  man,  if  we 
suppose  that  opposition  to  religion  can 
be  limited  to  an  age  or  a  country.  Per- 
secution, in  its  most  terrible  forms,  is 
only  the  development  of  a  principle 
which  must  unavoidably  exist  until  either 
Christianity  or  human  nature  be  altered. 
There  is  a  necessary  repugnance  be- 
tween Christianity  and  human  nature. 
The  two  cannot  be  amalgamated :  one 
must  be  changed  before  it  will  combine 
vidth  the  other.  And  we  fear  that  this  is, 
in  a  degree,  an  overlooked  truth,  and 
that  men  are  disposed  to  assign  persecu- 
tion to  local  or  temporary  causes.  But 
we  wish  you  to  be  clear  on  the  fact,  that 
"the  offence  of  the  cross,"  Gal.  5:  11, 
has  not  ceased,  and  cannot  cease.  We 
readily  allow  that  the  form,  under  which 
the  hatred  manifests  itself,  will  be  sensi- 
bly affected  by  the  civilization  and  intel- 
ligence of  the  age.  In  days  of  an  imper- 
fect refinement  and  a  scanty  literature, 
you  will  find  this  hatred  unsheathing  the 
sword,  and  lighting  the  pile :  but  when 
human  society  is  at  a  high  point  of  po- 
lish and  knowledge,  and  the  principles  of 
religious  toleration  are  well  understood, 
there  is,  perhaps,  comparatively,  small 
likelihood  that  savage  violence  will  be 
the  engine  employed  against  godliness. 
Yet  there  are  a  hundred  batteries  which 
may  and  will  be  opened  upon  the  righ- 
teous. The  follower  of  Christ  must  cal- 
culate on  many  sneers,  and  much  revil- 
ing.    He  must  look  to  meet  often  with 


coldness  and  contempt,  harder  of  endu- 
rance than  many  forms  of  martyrdom; 
for  the  courage  which  could  march  to  the 
stake  may  be  daunted  by  a  laugh.  And, 
frequently,  the  opposition  assumes  a 
more  decided  shape.  The  parent  will  act 
harshly  towards  the  child;  the  superior 
withdraw  his  countenance  from  the  de- 
pendent; and  all  because  of  a  giving 
heed  to  the  directions  of  Scripture.  Re- 
ligion, as  though  it  were  rebellion,  alien- 
ates the  affections,  and  alters  the  wills,  of 
fathers  and  guardians.  So  that  we  tell 
an  individual  that  he  blinds  himself  to 
plain  matters  of  fact,  if  he  espouse  the 
opinion  that  the  apostle's  words  applied 
only  to  the  first  ages  of  Christianity,  "  all 
that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall 
suffer  persecution."  2  Tim.  3 :  12.  To 
"live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus"  is  to  have 
enmity  put  between  yourselves  and  the 
seed  of  the  serpent ;  and  you  may  be  as- 
sured, that,  unless  this  enmity  be  merely 
nominal  on  your  side,  it  will  manifest  it- 
self by  acts  on  the  other. 

Thus  the  prophecy  of  our  text  an- 
nounces, what  has  been  verified  by  the 
history  of  all  ages,  that  no  man  can  serve 
God  without  uniting  against  himself  evil 
men  and  evil  angels.  Evil  angels  will 
assault  him,  alarmed  that  their  prey  is 
escaping  from  their  grasp.  Evil  men, 
rebuked  by  his  example,  will  become 
agents  of  the  serpent,  and  strive  to 
wrench  him  from  his  righteousness. 

But  what,  after  all,  is  the  amount  of 
injury  which  the  serpent  and  his  seed 
can  cause  to  God's  children  1  Is  it  not  a 
truth,  which  can  only  then  be  denied 
when  you  have  cashiered  the  authority 
of  every  page  of  the  Bible,  that  he  who 
believes  upon  Christ,  and  who,  therefore, 
has  been  adopted  through  faith  into  God's 
family,  is  certain  to  be  made  more  than 
conqueror,  and  to  trample  under  foot 
every  enemy  of  salvation  ?  The  conflict 
between  a  believer  and  his  foes  may  be 
long  and  painful.  The  Christian  may  be 
often  forced  to  exclaim  with  St.  Paul, 
"  O  wretched  man  that  I  am.  who  shall 
deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ]  " 
Rom.  7 :  24.  Engaged  with  the  triple 
band  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  de- 
vil, he  will  experience  many  partial  de- 
feats, and  surprised  off  his  guard,  or 
wearied  out  with  watchings,  will  yield 
to  temptation,  and  so  fall  into  sin.  But 
it  is  certain,  certain  as  that  God  is  om- 
nipotent and  faithful,  that  the  once  justi- 


IS 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECy. 


fied  man  shall  be  enabled  to  persevere  to 
the  end ;  to  persevere,  not  in  an  idle  de- 
pendence on  privileges,  but  in  a  struggle 
which,  if  for  an  instant  interrupted,  is 
sure  to  be  vehemently  renewed.  And, 
therefore,  the  bruising  of  the  heel  is  the 
sum  total  of  the  mischief.  Thus  much, 
undoubtedly,  the  serpent  can  effect.  He 
can  harass  with  temptation,  and  occa- 
sionally prevail.  But  he  cannot  undo  the 
radical  work  of  conversion.  He  cannot 
eject  the  principle  of  grace;  and  he  can- 
not, therefore,  bring  back  the  man  into 
the  condition  of  his  slave  or  his  subject. 
Thus  he  cannot  wound  the  head  of  the 
new  man.  He  may  diminish  his  com- 
forts. He  may  impede  his  growth  in  ho- 
liness. He  may  inject  doubts  and  sus- 
picions, and  thus  keep  him  disquieted, 
when,  if  he  would  live  up  to  his  privi- 
leges, he  might  rejoice  and  be  peaceful. 
But  all  this — and  we  show  you  here  the 
full  sweep  of  the  serpent's  power — still 
leaves  the  man  a  believer:  and,  there- 
fore, all  this,  though  it  bruise  the  heel, 
touches  not  the  head. 

And  though  the  believer,  like  the  un- 
believer, must  submit  to  the  power  of 
death,  and  tread  the  dark  valley  of  that 
cui'se  which  still  rests  on  our  nature,  is 
there  experienced  more  than  a  bruising 
of  the  heel  in  the  undergoing  this  disso- 
lution of  humanity  ]  It  is  an  injury — for 
we  go  not  with  those  who  would  idolize, 
or  soften  down,  death — that  the  soul 
must  be  detached  from  the  body,  and 
sent  out,  a  widowed  thing,  on  the  broad 
joumeyings  of  eternity.  It  is  an  injury, 
that  this  curious  framework  of  matter,  as 
much  redeemed  by  Chi-ist  as  the  giant- 
guest  which  it  encases,  must  be  taken 
down,  joint  by  joint,  and  rafter  by  rafter, 
and,  resolved  into  its  original  elements, 
lose  every  trace  of  having  been  human. 
But  what,  we  again  say,  is  the  extent  of 
this  injury]  The  foot  of  the  destroyer 
shall  be  set  upon  the  body ;  and  he  shall 
stamp  till  he  have  ground  it  into  powder, 
and  dispersed  it  to  the  winds.  But  he 
cannot  annihilate  a  lonely  particle.  He 
can  put  no  arrest  on  that,  germinating 
process  which  shall  yet  cause  the  valleys 
and  mountains  of  this  globe  to  stand 
thick  with  a  harvest  of  flesh.  He  cannot 
hinder  my  resuiTection.  And  when  the 
soul,  over  which  he  hath  had  no  power, 
rushes  into  the  body  which  he  shall  be 
forced  to  resign,  and  the  child  of  God 
stands  forth  a  man,  yet  immortal,  com- 


pound of  flesh  and  spirit,  but  each  pure, 
each  indestructible; — oh,  though  Satan 
may  have  battered  at  his  peace  dm-ing  a 
long  earthly  pilgrimage;  though  he  may 
have  marred  his  happiness  by  successful 
temptation ;  though  he  may  have  detain- 
ed for  centuries  his  body  in  corruption; 
will  not  the  inflicted  injury  appear  to 
have  been  so  trivial  anei  insignificant,  that 
a  bruising  of  the  heel,  in  place  of  falling 
short  of  the  matter-of-fact,  shall  itself 
seem  almost  an  overwrought  description'? 
And,  all  the  while,  though  Satan  can 
only  bruise  the  believer's  heel,  the  be- 
liever is  bruising  Satan's  head.  If  the 
believer  be  one  who  fights  the  serpent, 
and  finally  conquers,  by  that  final  con- 
quest the  serpent's  head  is  bruised.  If 
he  be  naturally  the  slave  of  the  serpent; 
if  he  rebel  against  the  tyrant,  throw  off' 
his  chains,  and  vanquish  him,  fighting 
inch  by  inch  the  ground  to  freedom  and 
glory;  then  he  bruises  the  serpent's 
head.  If  two  beings  are  antagonists,  he 
who  decisively  overcomes  bruises  the 
head  of  his  opponent.  But  the  believer 
and  the  serpent  are  antagonists.  The 
believer  gains  completely  the  mastery 
over  the  serpent.  And,  therefore,  the 
result  of  the  contest  is  the  fulfilment  of 
the  prediction  that  the  seed  of  the  wo- 
man shall  bruise  the  head  of  the  serpent. 
Oh,  if,  as  we  well  know,  the  repentance 
of  a  single  sinner  send  a  new  and  exqui- 
site delight  down  the  ranks  of  the  hosts 
of  heaven,  and  cause  the  sweeping  of  a 
rich  and  glorious  anthem  from  the  count- 
less harps  of  the  sky,  can  we  doubt  that 
the  same  event  spreads  consternation 
through  the  legions  of  fallen  spirits, 
and  strikes,  like  a  death-blow,  on  their 
haughty  and  malignant  leader]  Ay, 
and  we  believe  that  never  is  Satan  so 
taught  his  subjugated  estate,  as  when  a 
soul,  which  he  had  counted  as  his  own, 
escapes  "as  a  bird  out  of  the  snare  of 
the  fowlers,"  Psalm  124 :  7,  and  seeks 
and  finds  protection  in  Jesus.  If  it  be 
then  that  Christ  sees  "  of  the  travail  of 
his  soul,"  Isaiah,  53 :  11,  it  must  be  then 
that  the  serpent  tastes  all  the  bitterness 
of  defeat.  And  when  the  warfare  is  over, 
and  the  spirit,  which  he  hath  longed  to 
destroy,  soars  away,  convoyed  by  the 
angfels  which  wait  on  the  heirs  of  salva- 
tion,  must  it  not  be  then  that  the  con- 
sciousness of  lost  mastery  seizes,  with 
crushing  force,  on  the  proud  foe  of  our 
race;   and  does  not  that  fierce   cry  of 


THE    FIRST    PROPHECY. 


19 


disappointment  which  seems  to  follow 
the  ascending  soul,  causing  her  to  feel 
herself  only  "scarcely  saved,"  1  Pet. 
4:  18,  testify  that,  in  thus  winning  a 
heritage  of  glory,  the  believer  hath 
bruised  the  head  of  the  serpent? 

We  shall  not  examine  further  this 
third  fulfilment  of  the  prophecy  of  our 
text.  But  we  think  that  when  you  con- 
trast the  slight  injury  which  Satan,  at 
the  worst,  can  cause  to  a  believer,  with 
the  mighty  blow  which  the  deliverance 
of  a  believer  deals  out  to  Satan;  the 
nothingness,  at  last,  of  the  harm  done 
to  God's  people,  with  that  fearful  dis- 
comfiture which  their  individual  rescue 
fastens  on  the  devil;  you  will  confess, 
that,  considering  the  church  as  resolved 
into  its  separate  members,  just  as  when 
you  survey  it  collectively  as  a  body,  or 
as  represented  by  its  head,  there  is  a 
literal  accomplishment  of  this  predic- 
tion to  the  serpent  concerning  the  seed 
of  the  woman,  "it  shall  bruise  thy  head, 
and  thou  shalt  bruise  his  heel." 

We  have  thus,  as  we  trust,  shown  you 
that  the  prophecy  of  our  text  extends 
itself  over  the  whole  surface  of  time,  so 
that,  from  the  fall  of  Adam,  it  has  been 
receiving  accomplishment,  and  will  con- 
tinue being  fulfilled  until  "death  and 
hell  are  cast  into  the  lake  of  fire."  Rev. 
20 :  14.  It  was  a  wonderful  announce- 
ment, and,  if  even  but  imperfectly  un- 
derstood, must  have  confounded  the 
serpent,  and  cheered  Adam  and  Eve. 
Dust  shalt  thou  eat,  foe  of  humankind, 
when  this  long  oppressed  creation  is 
delivered  from  thy  despotism.  As 
though  to  mark  to  us  that  there  shall 
be  no  suspension  of  the  doom  of  our 
destroyer,  whilst  this  earth  rejoices  in 
the  restitution  of  all  things,  Isaiah,  in  de- 
scribing millennial  harmony,  still  leaves 
the  serpent  under  the  sentence  of  our 
text.  "  The  wolf  and  the  lamb  shall 
feed  together;  and  the  lion  shall  eat 
straw  like  the  bullock ;   and  dust  shall 


he  the  serpent's  meaty  Isaiah,  65 :  25. 
There  comes  a  day  of  deliverance  to 
every  other  creature,  but  none  to  the 
serpent.  Oh,  mysterious  dealing  of  our 
God!  that  for  fallen  angels  there  hath 
been  no  atonement,  for  fallen  men  a  full, 
perfect,  and  suflRcient.  They  were  far 
nobler  than  we,  of  a  loftier  intelligence 
and  more  splendid  endowment;  vet 
("how  unsearchable  are  his  judg- 
ments") we  are  taken  and  they  are 
left.  "  For  verily  he  taketh  not  hold  of 
angels,  but  of  the  seed  of  Abraham  he 
taketh  hold."  Hebrews,  2:  16,  margi- 
nal reading. 

And  shall  we,  thus  singled  out  and 
made  objects  of  marvellous  mercy,  re- 
fuse to  be  delivered,  and  take  our  por- 
tion with  those  who  are  both  fallen  and 
unredeemed  1  Shall  we  eat  the  dust, 
when  we  may  eat  of  "  the  bread  which 
comet  hdown  from  heaven  V  John,  6: 
50.  Covetous  man !  thy  money  is  the 
dust;  thou  art  eating  the  serpent's 
meat.  Sensual  man  !  thy  gratifications 
are  of  the  dust ;  thou  art  eating  the 
serpent's  meat.  Ambitious  man !  thine 
honors  are  of  the  dust ;  thou  art  eating 
the  serpent's  meat.  O  God,  put  enmity 
between  us  and  the  serpent.  Will  ye, 
every  one  of  you,  use  that  short  prayer 
ere  ye  lie  down  to  rest  this  night,  O 
God,  put  enmity  between  us  and  the 
serpent  ?  If  ye  are  not  at  enmity,  his 
folds  are  round  your  limbs.  If  ye  are 
not  at  enmity,  his  sting  is  at  your  heart. 
But  if  ye  will,  henceforward,  count  him 
a  foe,  oppose  him  in  God's  strength, 
and  attack  him  with  the  "sword  of  the 
Spirit;"  Eph.  6  :  17;  then,  though  ye 
may  have  your  seasons  of  disaster  and 
depression,  the  promise  stands  sure  that 
ye  shall  finally  overcome;  and  it  shall 
be  proved  by  each  one  in  this  assembly, 
that,  though  the  serpent  may  bruise  the 
heel  of  the  seed  of  the  woman,  yet,  at 
last,  the  seed  of  the  woman  always 
bruises  the  head  of  the  serpent. 


SERMON  II. 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER  OF    THE    CHURCH. 


"A  minister  of  the  sanctuary,  and  of  the  true  tabernacle  which  the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man. — Hebrews  vii:  15. 


The  discourse  of  the  Apostle  here 
turns  on  Jesus,  the  high  priest  of  our 
profession,  whose  superiority  to  Aaron 
and  his  descendants  he  had  estabhshed 
by  most  powerful  reasoning.  In  the 
verse  preceding  our  text  he  takes  a 
summary  of  the  results  of  his  argu- 
ment, deciding  that  we  have  such  an 
high  priest  as  became  us,  and  who  had 
passed  from  the  scene  of  earthly  minis- 
trations to  "the  throne  of  the  majesty 
in  the  heavens."  He  then,  in  the  words 
upon  which  we  are  to  meditate,  gives  a 
description  of  this  high  priest  as  at  pre- 
sent discharging  sacerdotal  functions. 
He  calls  him  "  a  minister  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, or  (according  to  the  marginal 
reading)  of  holy  things,  and  of  the  true 
tabernacle  v.'^hich  the  Lord  pitched,  and 
not  man."  We  think  it  needful,  if  we 
would  enter  into  the  meaning  of  this 
passage,  that  we  confine  it  to  what 
Christ  is,  and  attempt  not  to  extend  it 
to  what  Christ  was.  If  you  examine  the 
verses  which  follow,  you  will  be  quite 
satisfied  that  St.  Paul  had  in  view  those 
portions  of  the  mediatorial  work  which 
are  yet  being  executed,  and  not  those 
which  were  completed  upon  earth.  He 
expressly  declares  that  if  the  Redeem- 
er were  yet  resident  amongst  men,  he 
would  not  be  invested  with  the  priestly 
office — thus  intimating,  and  that  not  ob- 
scurely, that  the  priesthood  now  enact- 
ed in  heaven  was  that  on  which  he  wish- 
ed to  centre  attention. 

We  know  indeed  that  parts  of  the 
priestly  office,  most  stupendous  and 
most  important,  were  discharged  by 
Jesus  whilst  sojourning  on  earth.  Then 
it  was  that,  uniting  mysteriously  in  his 


person  the  offerer  and  the  victim,  he 
presented  himself,  a  whole  burnt  sacri- 
fice, to  God,  and  took  away,  by  his  one 
oblation,  the  sin  of  an  overburdened 
world.  But  if  you  attend  closely  to  the 
reasoning  of  St.  Paul,  you  will  observe 
that  he  considers  Christ's  oblation  of 
himself  as  a  preparation  for  the  priestly 
office,  rather  than  as  an  act  of  that  of- 
fice. He  argues,  in  the  third  verse,  that 
since  "  every  high  priest  is  ordained  to 
offer  gifts  and  sacrifices,"  there  was  a 
"necessity  that  this  man  have  some- 
what also  to  offer."  And  by  then  speak- 
ing of  Christ's  having  obtained  "  a  more 
excellent  ministry,"  he  plainly  implies 
that  what  he  offers  as  high  priest  is  of- 
fered in  heaven,  and  must,  therefore, 
have  been  rather  procured,  than  pre- 
sented, by  the  sacrifice  of  himself 

We  are  anxious  that  you  should  clear- 
ly perceive — as  we  are  sure  you  must 
from  the  study  of  the  context — that 
Christ  in  heaven,  and  not  Christ  on 
earth,  is  sketched  out  by  the  words 
which  we  are  now  to  examine.  The 
right  interpretation  of  the  description 
will  depend  gi-eatly  on  our  ascertaining 
the  scene  of  ministrations.  And  we 
shall  not  hesitate,  throughout  the  whole 
of  our  discourse,  to  consider  the  apos- 
tle as  refeiTing  to  what  Chi4st  now  per- 
forms on  our  behalf;  taking  no  other 
account  of  what  he  did  in  his  humilia- 
tion than  as  it  stands  associated  with 
what  he  does  in  his  exaltation. 

You  will  observe,  at  once,  that  the 
difficulty  of  our  text  lies  in  the  asser- 
tion, that  Christ  is  "  a  minister  of  the 
true  tabernacle,  which  the  Lord  pitched, 
and  not  man."     Our  main  business,  as 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


21 


expounders  of  Scripture,  is  with  the  de- 
termining what  this  "true  tabernacle" 
is.  For,  though  we  think  it  ascertain- 
ed that  heaven  is  the  scene  of  Christ's 
priestly  ministrations,  this  does  not  de- 
fine what  the  tabernacle  is  wherein  he 
ministers. 

Now  there  can  be  but  little  question, 
that,  in  another  passage  of  this  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews,  the  humanity  of  the 
Son  of  God  is  described  as  "  a  taberna- 
cle, not  made  with  hands."  The  verse 
occurs  in  the  ninth  chapter,  in  which 
St.  Paul  shows  the  temporary  character 
of  the  Jewish  tabernacle,  every  thing 
about  it  having  been  simply  "  a  figure 
for  the  time  then  present."  Advancing 
to  the  contrast  of  what  was  enduring 
with  what  was  transient,  he  declares 
that  Christ  had  come,  "  an  high  priest 
of  good  things  to  come,  by  a  greater 
and  more  perfect  tabernacle,  not  made 
with  hands,  that  is  to  say,  not  of  this 
building."  Heb.  9:  11.  It  scarcely  ad- 
mits of  debate  that  the  body  of  the  Re- 
deemer, produced  as  it  was  by  a  super- 
natural operation,  constituted  this  ta- 
bernacle in  which  he  came  down  to 
earth.  And  we  are  rightly  anxious  to 
uphold  this,  which  seems  the  legitimate 
interpretation,  because  heretics,  who 
would  bring  down  the  Savior  to  a  level 
"vvith  ourselves,  find  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty in  getting  rid  of  this  miraculous 
conception,  and  are  most  perplexed  by 
any  passage  which  speaks  of  Christ  as 
superhumanly  generated.  It  is  a  com- 
mon taunt  with  the  Socinian,  that  the 
apostles  seem  to  have  known  nothing 
of  this  miraculous  conception,  and  that 
a  truth  of  such  importance,  if  well  as- 
certained, would  not  have  been  omitted 
in  their  discussions  with  unbelievers. 
We  might,  if  it  consisted  with  our  sub- 
ject, advance  many  reasons  to  prove  it 
most  improbable,  that,  either  in  argu- 
ing with  gainsayers,  or  in  building  up 
believers,  the  first  preachers  of  Chris- 
tianity would  make  frequent  use  of  the 
mystery  of  Christ's  generation.  But, 
at  all  events,  we  contend  that  one  de- 
cisive mention  is  of  the  same  worth  as 
many,  and  that  a  single  instance  of 
apostolic  recognition  of  the  fact,  suffi- 
ces for  the  overthrow  of  the  heretical 
objection.  And,  therefore,  we  would 
battle  strenuously  for  the  interpreta- 
tion of  the  passage  to  which  we  have 
refeiTed,  defining  the  humanity  of  the 


Savior,  as  a  "  Tabernacle  not  made  with 
hands,  that  is  to  say,  not  of  this  build- 
ing." And  if,  without  any  overstrain- 
ing of  the  text,  it  should  appear  that 
"  the  true  tabernacle,"  whereof  Christ 
is  the  minister,  may  also  be  expounded 
of  his  spotless  humanity,  we  should 
gladly  adopt  the  interpretation  as  sus- 
taining us  in  our  contest  with  impugn- 
ers  of  his  divinity. 

There  is,  at  first  sight,  so  much  re- 
semblance between  the  passages,  that 
we  are  naturally  inclined  to  claim  for 
them  a  sameness  of  meaning.     In  the 
one,  the  tabernacle  is  described  as  that 
"  which  the  Lord  pitched  and  not  man ;" 
in  the  other,  as  "  not  made  with  hands," 
that  is  to  say,  "  not  of  this  building." 
It  is  scarcely  possible  that  the  coinci- 
dence could  be  more  literal;   and  the 
inference  seems  obvious,  that,  the  latter 
tabernacle  being  Christ's  humanity,  so 
also  must  be  the  former.     Yet  a  little 
reflection    will    suggest   that,    however 
correct    the    expression,    that    Christ's 
humanity  was  the  tabernacle  by,  or  in, 
which  he  came,  there  would  be  much 
of  harshness  in  the  figure,  that  this  hu- 
manity is  the  tabernacle  of  which  he  is 
the  minister.     Without  doubt,  it  is  in 
his  human  nature  that  the  Son  of  God 
officiates   above.      He  carried  up  into 
glory  the  vehicle  of  his   sufferings,  and 
made  it  partaker  of  his  triumphs.     And 
our  gi'and  comfort  in  the  priesthood  of 
Jesus  results  from  the  fact  that  he  min- 
isters as  a  man;  nothing  else  affording 
ground  of  assurance  that  "  we  have  not 
an  high  priest  which  cannot  be  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities."  Heb. 
4 :   15.      But   whilst    certain,    and    re- 
joicing in  the  certainty,  that  our  inter- 
cessor pleads  in  the  humanity,  which, 
undefiled  by  either  actual  or  original 
sin,  qualified   him    to  receive  the  out- 
pourings of  wrath,  we  could  not,   with 
any  accuracy,  say  that  he  is  the  minis- 
ter of  this  humanity.     It  is  clear  that 
such  expression  must  define,  in  some 
way,  the  place  of  ministration.      And 
since   humanity   was    essential    to   the 
constitution  of  Christ's  person,  we  see 
not  how  it  could  be  the  temple  of  which 
he  was  appointed  the  minister.    At  least 
we  must  allow,  that,  in  interpreting  our 
text  of  the  human  nature  of  the  Son  of 
God,  we  should  lie  open  to  the  charge 
of  advocating    an    unnatural    meaning, 
and  of  being  so  bent  on  upholding  a 


22 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH. 


favorite  hypothesis,  as  not  to  be  over- 
scrupulous as  to  means  of  support. 

We  dismiss,  therefore,  as  untenable, 
the  opinion  which  our  w^ishes  would 
have  led  us  to  espouse,  and  must  seek 
elsewhere  than  in  the  humanity  of 
Christ,  for  "  the  true  tabernacle  which 
the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man."  The 
most  correct  and  simple  idea  appears  to 
be,  that,  inasmuch  as  Christ  is  the  high 
priest  of  all  who  believe  upon  his  name, 
and  inasmuch  as  believers  make  up  his 
church,  the  whole  company  of  the  faith- 
ful constitute  that  tabernacle  of  which 
he  is  here  asserted  the  minister.  If  we 
adopt  this  interpretation,  we  may  trace 
a  fitness  and  accuracy  of  expression 
which  can  scarcely  fail  to  assure  us  of 
its  justice.  The  Jewish  tabernacle,  un- 
questionably typical  of  the  christian 
church,  consisted  of  the  outer  part  and 
the  inner ;  the  one  open  to  the  minis- 
trations of  inferior  priests,  the  other  to 
those  of  the  high  priest  alone.  Thus 
the  church,  always  one  body,  whatever 
the  dispersion  of  its  members,  is  partly 
upon  earth  where  Christ's  ambassadors 
ofhciate,  partly  in  heaven  where  Christ 
himself  is  present.  St.  Paul,  referring 
to  this  church  as  a  household,  describes 
Christ  Jesus  as  him  "  of  whom  the 
whole  family  in  heaven  and  earth  is 
named;  "  Eph.  3  :  15  ;  intimating  that 
it  was  no  interference  with  the  unity 
of  this  family,  that  some  of  its  mem- 
bers resided  above,  whilst  others  re- 
mained, as  warriors  and  suiferers,  be- 
low. So  that,  in  considering  Christ's 
church  as  the  tabernacle  with  its  holy 
place,  and  its  hcdy  of  holies — the  first 
on  earth,  the  second  in  heaven — we  ad- 
here most  rigidly  to  the  type,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  preserve  harmony  with 
other  representations  of  Scripture. 

And  when  you  remember  that  Christ 
is  continually  described  as  dwelling  in 
his  people,  and  that  believers  are  repre- 
sented as  "  builded  together  for  an  habi- 
tation of  God  through  the  Spirit,"  Eph. 
2  :  22,  there  will  seem  to  be  none  of 
that  objection  against  this  interpreta- 
tion which  we  felt  constrained  to  urge 
against  the  former.  If  it  be  common  to 
represent  believers,  whether  singly  or 
collectively,  as  the  temple  of  God ;  and 
if,  at  the  same  time,  Christ  Jesus,  as 
the  high  priest  of  our  profession,  pre- 
side at  the  altar,  and  hold  the  censor  of 
this  temple ;  then  we  suppose  nothing 


far-fetched,  we  only  keep  up  the  image- 
ry of  Scripture,  when  we  take  the  churcli 
as  that  "  true  tabernacle  "  whereof  the 
Redeemer  is  the  minister. 

And  when  we  yet  further  call  to  mind 
that  to  God  alone  is  the  convei'sion  of 
man  ascribed  throughout  Scripture,  we 
see,  at  once,  the  truth  of  the  account 
given  of  this  tabernacle,  that  the  Lord 
pitched  it  and  not  man.  Man  reared 
the  Jewish  tabernacle,  and  man  builded 
the  Jewish  temple.  But  the  spiritual 
sanctuary,  of  which  these  were  but 
types  and  figures,  could  be  constructed 
by  no  human  architect.  A  finite  power 
is  inadequate  to  the  fashioning  and  col- 
lecting living  stones,  and  to  the  weav- 
ing the  drapery  of  self-denial  and  obe- 
dience. We  refer,  undividedly,  to  Dei- 
ty the  construction  of  this  true  taber- 
nacle, the  church.  Had  there  been  no 
mediatorial  interference,  the  spiritual 
temple  could  never  have  been  erected. 
In  the  work  and  person  of  Christ  were 
laid  the  foundation  of  this  temple. 
"  Behold,  saith  God,  I  lay  in  Zion  for  a 
foundation  a  stone,  a  tried  stone."  Isa. 
28  :  16.  And  on  the  stone  thus  laid 
there  would  have  arisen  no  superstruc- 
ture, had  not  the  finished  work  of  re- 
demption been  savingly  applied,  by 
God's  Spirit,  to  man's  conscience. 
Though  redeemed,  not  a  solitary  indi- 
vidual would  go  on  to  be  saved,  unless 
God  recreated  him  after  his  own  like- 
ness. So  that,  whatever  the  breadth 
which  we  give  to  the  expression,  it 
must  hold  good  of  Christ's  church,  that 
the  Lord  pitched  it  and  not  man.  And 
it  is  not  more  true  of  Christ's  humanity, 
mysteriously  and  supernaturally  pro- 
duced, that  it  was  a  tabernacle  which 
Deity  reared,  than  of  the  company  of 
believers,  bom  again  of  the  Spirit  and 
renewed  after  God's  image,  that  they 
constitute  a  sanctuary  which  shows  a 
nobler  than  mortal  workmanship. 

Now,  upon  the  grounds  thus  briefly 
adduced,  we  shall  consider,  through  the 
remainder  of  our  discourse,  tliat  "  the 
true  tabernacle,"  whereof  Chiist  is  the 
minister,  denotes  the  whole  church, 
whether  in  earth  or  heaven,  of  the  re- 
deemed, made  one  by  union,  through 
faith,  with  the  Redeemer.  But  before 
considering,  at  greater  length,  the 
senses  in  which  Christ  is  the  minister 
of  this  tabernacle,  we  would  remark  on 
his  being  styled  "  Minister,"  and  not 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH. 


23 


"Hio-h  Priest."     We  shall  find,  in  the 
sequel,  that  this   change  of  title  is  too 
important    to  be   overlooked,    and  that 
we  must    give    it  our    attention,  if  we 
would  bring  out  the  full  meaning  of  the 
passage.     The  word  translated  "  minis- 
ter," denotes  properly  any  pubhc  ser- 
vant, whatever  the  duties  committed  to 
his  care.     His  office,  or  his  ministry,  is 
any  business  undertaken  for  the    sake 
of  the  commonwealth.       Hence,  in  the 
New    Testament,    the    word    rendered 
"  ministry  "  is  transferred  to  the  public 
office   of  the  Levites  and  Priests,  and 
afterwards    to  the  sacerdotal    office    of 
Christ.   We  keep  the  Greek  word  in  our 
own    language,    but    confine    it    to  the 
business    of  the    sanctuary,    describing 
as  "a  Liturgy"  a  formulary  of  public 
devotions.     XVhen  Christ,  therefore,  is 
called  the  minister  of  the  tabernacle,  a 
broader  office  seems  assigned  him  than 
when  styled  the  High  Priest.     As  the 
High  Priest  of  his  church,  he  is  alone ; 
the  functions  of  the  office  being  such 
as  himself  only  can  discharge.     But  as 
the  minister  of  his  church,  he  is  indeed 
supreme,  but  not  alone;  the  same  title 
being    given    to    his    ambassadors ;     as 
when  St.  Paul  describes  himself  as  the 
*'  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  to  the  Gen- 
tiles, ministering  the  Gospel  of  God." 
Rom.  15 :   16.     You  will  perceive,    at 
once,  from  this  statement,  that  our  text 
ought  not  to  be  expounded  as  though 
"Minister"  and    "High   Priest "  were 
identical  titles.     No  force  is  then  attach- 
ed to  a  word,  of  whose  application  to 
Christ  this  verse  is  the  solitary  instance. 
Indeed  we  are  persuaded  that  much  of 
the  power  and  beauty   of  the  passage 
lies  in  the  circumstance,  that  Christ  is 
called  "  the  Minister  of  the  true  taber- 
nacle," and  not  the  High  Priest.  If  "  the 
true  tabernacle  "  be,  as  we  seem  to  have 
ascertained,    the   whole    church   of  the 
redeemed,  that  part  of  the  church  which 
is  already  in  glory  appears  to  have  no 
need  of  Christ  as  a  priest ;  and  we  may 
search  in  vain  for  the  senses  which  the 
passage  would   bear,  when  applied  to 
this  part.     But  if  Christ's  priestly  func- 
tions, properly  so  called,  relate  not  to 
the  church  in  heaven,   it  is  altogether 
possible   that  his  ministerial  may ;    so 
that   there  is,   perhaps,  a  propriety  in 
calling  him  the  minister  of  that  church, 
which  there   would  not  be  in   calling 
him  the  High  Priest. 


We  shall  proceed,  therefore,  to  ex- 
plain our  text  on  the  two  assumptions, 
for  each  of  which  we  have  shown  you 
a  reason.  We  assume,  in  the  first  place, 
that  "  the  true  tabernacle  "  is  the  col- 
lective church  of  the  redeemed,  whe- 
ther in  earth  or  heaven  :  in  the  second, 
that  the  office  of  minister,  though  in- 
cluding that  of  high  priest,  has  duties 
attached  to  it  which  belong  specially  to 
itself  These  points,  you  observe,  we 
assume,  or  take  for  granted,  through  the 
remainder  of  our  discourse ;  and  we 
wish  them,  therefore,  borne  in  mind,  as 
ascertained  truths. 

In  strict  conformity  with  these  as- 
sumptions, we  shall  now  speak  to  you, 
in  the  first  place,  of  Christ  as  minister 
of  the  chiirch  on  earth ;  in  the  second 
place,  of  Christ  as  minister  of  the  church 
in  heaven. 

Now  it  is  of  first-rate  importance  that 
we  consider  Christ  as  withdrawn  only 
from  the  eye  of  sense,  and,  therefore, 
present  as  truly,  after  a  spiritual  man- 
ner, with  his  church,  as  when,  in  the 
day  of  humiliation,    he  moved  visibly 
upon  earth.       The    lapse  of  time   has 
brought  no  inten-uption  of  his  parting 
promise  to  the  apostles,  "  Lo,  I  am  with 
you  alway,  even  unto  the   end  of  the 
world."  Matt.  28  :  20.     He  has  provid- 
ed, by  keeping  up  a  succession  of  men 
who  derive  authority,  in  unbroken  se- 
ries, from  the  first  teachers  of  the  faith, 
for  the  continued  preaching  of  his  word, 
and    administration  of  his  sacraments. 
And  thus  he  hath  been,  all  along,  the 
great  minister  of  his  church  :   delegat- 
ing, indeed,  power  to  inferior  ministers 
who  "  have  the  treasure  in  earthen  ves- 
sels ;  "  2  Cor.  4:7;  but  superintending 
their    appointments     as    the    universal 
bishop,  and  evangelizing,  so  to  speak, 
his  vast  diocese,    through  their  instru- 
mentality.    We  contend  that  you  have 
no  true  idea  of  a  church,  unless  you  thus 
recognize  in  its  ordinances,  not  mei-ely 
the  institution  of  Christ,  but  his  actual 
and  energizing  presence.     You  have  no 
right,  when  you  sit  down  in  the  sanc- 
tuary, to  regard  the  individual  who  ad- 
dresses you  as  a  mere  public  speaker, 
delivering  an  harangue  which  has  pre- 
cisely so  much  worth    as  it  may  draw 
from  its  logic  and  its  language.     He  is 
an  ambassador  from  the  great  Head  of 
the    church,  and  derives    an    authority 
from  this  Head,  which  is  quite   inde- 


24 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


pendent  of  his  own  worthiness.  If  Christ 
remain  always  the  minister  of  his 
church,  Christ  is  to  be  looked  at  through 
his  ministering  servant,  whoever  shall 
visibly  officiate.  And  though  there  be 
a  great  deal  preached  in  which  you 
cannot  recognize  the  voice  of  the  Sa- 
vior; and  though  the  sacraments  be 
administered  by  hands  which  seem  im- 
pure enough  to  sully  their  sanctity ; 
yet  do  we  venture  to  assert,  that  no 
man,  who  keeps  Christ  steadfastly  in 
view  as  the  "  minister  of  the  true  ta- 
bernacle," will  ever  fail  to  derive  profit 
from  a  sermon,  and  strensfth  from  a 
communion.  The  grand  evil  is  that  men 
ordinarily  lose  the  chief  minister  in  the 
inferior,  and  determine  beforehand  that 
they  cannot  be  advantaged;  unless  the 
inferior  be  modelled  exactly  to  their 
own  pattern.  They  regard  the  speaker 
simply  as  a  man,  and  not  at  all  as  a 
messenger.  Yet  the  ordained  preacher 
is  a  messenger,  a  messenger  from  the 
God  of  the  whole  earth.  His  mental 
capacity  may  be  weak — that  is  nothing. 
His  speech  may  be  contemptible — that 
is  nothing.  His  knowledge  may  be  cir- 
cumscribed— we  say  not  that  is  no- 
thing. But  we  say  that,  whatever  the 
man's  qualifications,  he  should  rest  upon 
his  office.  And  we  hold  it  the  business 
of  a  congregation,  if  they  hope  to  find 
profit  in  the  public  duties  of  the  Sab- 
bath, to  cast  away  those  personal  con- 
siderations which  may  have  to  do  with 
the  officiating  individual,  and  to  fix 
steadfastly  their  thoughts  on  the  office 
itself.  Whoever  preaches,  a  congrega- 
tion would  be  profited,  if  they  sat  down 
in  the  temper  of  Cornelius  and  his 
friends  :  "now  therefore  are  we  all  here 
present  before  God,  to  hear  all  things 
that  are  commanded  thee  of  God." 
Acts,  10 :  33. 

But  if  a  sermon  differ  from  what  a 
Gospel  sermon  should  be,  men  will  de- 
termine that  Christ  could  have  had  no- 
thing to  do  with  its  delivery.  Now  this, 
we  assert,  is  nothing  less  than  the  de- 
posing Christ  from  the  ministry  assign- 
ed him  by  our  text.  We  are  far  enough 
from  declaring  that  the  chief  minister 
puts  the  false  words  into  the  mouth  of 
the  inferior.  But  we  are  certain,  as 
upon  a  truth  which  to  deny  is  to  assault 
the  foundations  of  Christianity,  that  the 
chief  minister  is  so  mindful  of  his  office 
that    every  man,  who  listens  in    faith. 


expecting  a  message  from  above,  shall 
be  addressed  through  the  mouth,  ay, 
even  through  the  mistakes  and  errors, 
of  the  inferior.  And  in  upholding  this 
truth,  a  truth  attested  by  the  experience 
of  numbers,  we  simply  contend  for  the 
accuracy  of  that  description  of  Christ 
which  is  under  review.  If,  wheresoever 
the  minister  is  himself  deficient  and  un- 
taught, so  that  his  sei-mons  exhibit  a 
wrong  system  of  doctrine,  you  will  not 
allow  that  Christ's  church  may  be  pro- 
fited by  the  ordinance  of  preaching; 
you  clearly  argue  that  the  Redeemer 
has  given  up  his  office,  and  that  he  can 
no  longer  be  styled  the  "  minister  of 
the  true  tabernacle."  There  is  no  mid- 
dle course  between  denying  that  Christ 
is  the  minister,  and  allowing  that,  wliat- 
ever  the  faulty  statements  of  his  ordain- 
ed servant,  no  soul,  which  is  hearkening 
in  faith  for  a  word  of  counsel  or  com- 
fort, shall  find  the  ordinance  worthless 
and  be  sent  away  empty. 

And  from  this  we  obtain  our  first  il- 
lustration of  our  text.  We  behold  the 
true  followers  of  Christ  enabled  to  find 
food  in  pastures  which  seem  barren, 
and  water  where  the  fountains  are  dry. 
They  obtain  indeed  the  most  copious 
supplies — though,  perhaps,  even  this 
will  not  always  hold  good — when  the 
sermons  breathe  nothing  but  truth,  and 
the  sacraments  are  administered  by 
men  of  tried  piety  and  faith.  But  when 
every  thing  seems  against  them,  so  that, 
on  a  carnal  calculation,  you  would  sup- 
pose the  services  of  the  church  stripped 
of  all  efficacy,  then,  by  acting  faith  on 
the  head  of  the  ministry,  they  are  in- 
structed and  nourished;  though,  in  the 
main,  the  given  lesson  be  falsehood, 
and  the  proffered  sustenance  little  bet- 
ter than  poison.  And  if  Christ  be  thus 
always  sending  messages  to  those  who 
listen  for  his  voice ;  if  he  so  take  upon 
himself  the  office  of  preacher  as  to  con- 
strain even  the  tongue  of  eiTorto  speak 
instruction  to  his  people;  and  if,  over 
and  above  this  conveyance  of  lessons 
by  the  most  unpromising  vehicle,  he  be 
dispensing  abundantly,  by  his  faithful 
ambassadors,  the  rich  nutriment  of 
sound  and  heavenly  doctrine — every 
sermon,  which  speaks  truth  to  the  heart 
being  virtually  a  homily  of  Christ  deli- 
vered by  himself,  and  every  sacrament, 
which  transmits  grace,  an  ordinance  of 
Christ  superintended  by  himself — why. 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH. 


25 


a  fidelity  the  most  extraordinary  must 
be  allowed  to  distinguish  the  descrip- 
tion of  our  text;  and  Christ,  though 
removed  from  visible  ministration,  has 
yet  so  close  a  concernment  with  all  the 
business  of  the  sanctuary — uttering  the 
word,  sprinkling  the  water,  and  break- 
ing the  bread,  to  all  the  members  of 
his  mystical  body — that  he  must  em- 
phatically be  styled,  "  a  minister  of  holy 
things,  of  the  true  tabernacle  which 
the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man." 

But  whilst  the  office  of  minister  thus 
includes  duties  whose  scene  of  per- 
formance is  the  holy  place,  there  are 
others  which  can  only  be  discharged 
in  the  holy  of  holies.  These  appertain 
to  Christ  under  his  character  of  High 
Priest ;  no  inferior  minister  being  privi- 
leged to  enter  "  within  the  veil."  You 
must,  we  think,  be  familiar,  through 
frequent  hearing,  with  the  offices  of 
Christ  as  our  Intercessor.  You  know 
that  though  he  suffercid  but  once,  in  the 
last  ages  of  the  world,  yet,  ever  living 
to  plead  the  merits  of  his  sacrifice,  he 
gives  perpetuity  to  the  oblation,  and 
applies  to  the  washing  away  of  sin  that 
blood  which  is  as  expiatory  as  in  its 
first  warm  gushings.  In  no  respect  is 
it  more  sublimely  true  than  in  this,  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  "  the  same  yesterday, 
and  to-day,  and  forever."  The  high 
priests  of  Aaron's  line  entered,  year  by 
year,  into  the  holiest  of  all,  making  con- 
tinually a  new  atonement  "  for  them- 
selves and  for  the  errors  of  the  people." 
Heb.  9  :  7.  But  he  who  was  constituted 
"  after  the  order  of  Melchisedec,"  king 
as  well  as  priest,  entered  in  once,  not 
"  by  the  blood  of  goats  and  calves,  but 
by  his  own  blood,"  Heb.  9  :  12,  and 
needed  never  to  return  and  ascend 
again  the  altar  of  sacrifice.  It  is  not 
that  sin  can  now  be  taken  away  by  any 
thing  short  of  shedding  of  blood.  But 
intercession  perpetuates  crucifixion. 
Christ,  as  high  priest  within  the  veil,  so 
immortalizes  Calvary  that,  though  "  he 
liveth  unto  God,"  he  dies  continually 
unto  sin.  And  thus,  "  if  any  man  sin, 
we  have,"  saith  St.  John,  "  an  advocate 
with  the  Father."  1  John,  2 :  1.  But 
of  what  nature  is  his  advocacy  1  If  you 
would  understand  it  you  must  take 
the  survey  of  his  atonement.  It  was  a 
mighty  exploit  which  the  Mediator  ef- 
fected in  the  days  of  humiliation.  He 
arose  in  the  strength  of  that  wondrous 


coalition  of  Deity  and  humanity  of 
which  his  person  was  the  subject ;  and 
he  took  into  his  grasp  the  globe  over 
whose  provinces  Satan  expatiated  as  his 
rightful  temtory  ;  and,  by  one  vast  im- 
pulse, he  threw  it  back  into  the  galaxy 
of  Jehovah's  favor  ;  and  angel  and  arch- 
angel, cherubim  and  seraphim  sang  the 
chorus  of  triumph  at  the  stupendous 
achievement. 

Now  it  is  of  this  achievement  that 
intercession  perpetuates  the  results. 
We  wish  you  to  understand  thorough- 
ly the  nature  of  Christ's  intercession. 
When  Rome  had  thrown  from  her  the 
warrior  who  had  led  his  countrymen 
to  victory,  and  galled  and  fretted  the 
proud  spirit  of  her  boldest  hero  ;  he, 
driven  onward  by  the  demon  of  re- 
venge, gave  himself  as  a  leader  where 
he  had  before  been  a  conqueror,  and, 
taking  a  hostile  banner  into  his  pas- 
sionate grasp,  headed  the  foes  who 
sought  to  subjugate  the  land  of  his  na- 
tivity. Ye  remember,  it  may  be,  how 
intercession  saved  the  city.  The  mother 
bowed  before  the  son ;  and  Coriolanus, 
vanquished  by  tears,  subdued  by  plaints, 
left  the  capitol  unscathed  by  battle. 
Here  is  a  precise  instance  of  what  men 
count  successful  intercession.  But 
there  is  no  analogy  between  this  inter- 
cession and  the  intercession  of  Christ, 
Christ  intercedes  with  justice.  But  the 
intercession  is  the  throwing  down  his 
cross  on  the  crystal  floor  of  heaven,  and 
thus  proffering  his  atonement  to  satisfy 
the  demand.  Oh,  it  is  not  the  interces- 
sion of  burning  tears,  nor  of  half-choked 
utterance,  nor  of  thrilling  speech.  It 
is  the  intercession  of  a  broken  body, 
and  of  gushing  blood — of  death,  of  pas- 
sion, of  obedience.  It  is  the  interces- 
sion of  a  giant  leaping  into  the  gap,  and 
filling  it  with  his  colossal  stature,  and 
covering,  as  with  a  rampart  of  flesh,  the 
defenceless  camp  of  the  outcasts.  So 
that,  not  by  the  touching  words  and 
gestures  of  supplication,  but  by  the  re- 
sistless deeds  and  victories  of  Calvary, , 
the  Captain  of  our  salvation  intercedes : 
pleading,  not  as  a  petitioner  who  would 
move  compassion,  but  rather  as  a  con- 
queror who  would  claim  his  trophies. 

Hence  Christ  is  "  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost,"  on  the  very  ground  that 
"  he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession ;  " 
Heb.  7  :  25 ;  seeing  that  no  sin  can  bn 
committed  for  which  the    satisfaction, 


26 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OF    THE    CHURCH, 


made  upon  Calvary,  proffers  not  an  im- 
mediate and  thorough  expiation.  And 
if,  as  the  intercessor,  or  advocate,  of  his 
people,  Christ  Jesus  may  be  said  to 
stand  continually  at  the  altar-side ;  and 
if  he  be  momentarily  offering  up  the 
sacrifice  which  is  momentarily  required 
by  their  fast  recurring  guilt ;  is  he  not 
most  truly  a  minister  of  the  tabernacle  ? 
If,  though  the  shadows  of  Jewish  wor- 
ship have  been  swept  away,  so  that, 
day  by  day,  and  year  by  year,  a  typical 
atonement  is  no  longer  to  be  made,  the 
constant  commission  of  sin  demand,  as 
it  must  demand,  the  constant  pouring 
out  of  blood ;  and  if,  standing  not  in- 
deed in  a  material  court,  and  offering 
not  the  legal  victims,  but,  nevertheless, 
officiating  in  the  presence  of  God,  "  a 
lamb  as  it  had  been  slain,"  Rev.  5 :  6, 
the  Redeemer  present  the  oblation  pre- 
scribed for  every  offence  and  every 
short-coming ;  is  not  the  whole  business 
of  the  tabernacle  which  man  pitched 
transacted  over  again,  and  that  too 
every  instant,  in  the  tabernacle  which 
God  pitched ;  and,  Christ,  being  the 
high  priest  who  alone  presides  over  this 
expiatory  process,  how  otherwise  shall 
we  describe  him  than  as  the  "  minister 
of  the  sanctuary,  and  of  the  true  taber- 
nacle which  the  Lord  pitched  and  not 
man]" 

But  once  more.  We  may  regard  the 
prayers  and  praises  of  real  believers  as 
incense  burnt  in  the  true  tabernacle, 
and  rising  in  fragrant  clouds  towards 
heaven.  Yet  who  knows  not  that  this 
incense,  though  it  be  indeed  nothing 
less  than  the  breathings  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  is  so  defiled  by  the  coiTupt 
channel  of  humanity  through  which  it 
passes,  that,  unless  purified  and  ethe- 
rialized,  it  can  never  be  accepted  of 
God  ]  The  Holy  Ghost,  as  well  as  Christ 
Jesus,  is  said  to  make  intercession  for 
tis.  But  these  intercessions  are  of  a 
widely  different  character.  The  Spirit 
pleads  not  for  us  as  Christ  pleads,  hold- 
ing up  a  cross,  and  pointing  to  wounds. 
The  intercession  of  the  Spirit  is  an  in- 
tercession made  within  ourselves,-  and 
through  ourselves.  It  is  the  result  of 
the  Spirit's  casting  himself  into  our 
breasts,  and  there  praying  for  us  by  in- 
structing us  to  pray  for  ourselves.  Thus 
real  prayer  is  the  Spirit's  breath ;  and 
what  else  is  real  praise  ]  Real  praise 
is  the  Spirit's  throwing  the  heart  into 


the  tongue ;  or  rather,  it  is  the  sound 
produced,  when  the  Spirit  has  swept 
the  chords  of  the  soul,  and  there  is  a 
coiTespondent  vibration  of  the  lip.  But 
though  prayer  and  praise  be  thus,  em- 
phatically, the  breathings  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  they  ascend  not  up  in  their 
purity,  because  each  of  us  is  compelled 
to  exclaim  with  Isaiah,  "  Wo  is  me, 
because  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips." 
Isaiah,  6:  5.  Even  the  voice  of  the  in- 
terceding Spirit,  when  proceeding  from 
that  tongue  which  "  is  a  fire,  a  world 
of  iniquity,"  James  3 :  6,  penetrates 
not  the  holy  of  holies,  unless  the  Inter- 
cessor, who  is  at  God's  right  hand,  give 
it  wings  and  gain  it  access.  The  at- 
mosphere, so  to  speak,  which  is  round 
the  throne  of  the  Eternal  One,  must  be 
impervious  to  the  incense  burnt  in  the 
earthly  tabernacle,  unless  moist  with 
that  mysterious  dew  which  was  wrung 
by  anguish  from  the  Mediator. 

And  how  then  shall  we  better  repre- 
sent the  office  which  the  Intercessor  ex- 
ecutes than  by  saying,  that  he  holds  in 
his  hands  the  censer  of  his  own  merits, 
and,  gathering  into  it  the  prayers  and 
praises  of  his  church,  renders  them  a 
sweet  savor  acceptable  to  the  Father? 
Perfumed  with  the  odor  of  Christ's  pro- 
pitiation, the  incense  mounts ;  and  God, 
in  his  condescension,  accepts  the  offer- 
ing and  breathes  benediction  in  return. 
And  what  then,  we  again  ask,  is  Christ 
Jesus  but  the  "  minister  of  the  true 
tabernacle  1 "  If  it  be  the  Intercessor 
who  carries  our  prayers  and  praises 
within  the  veil,  and,  laying  them  on  the 
glowing  fire  of  his  righteousness,  causes 
a  spicy  cloud  to  ascend  and  cover  the 
mercy-seat ;  does  not  this  Intercessor 
officiate  in  the  ti'ue  tabernacle  as  did 
the  high  priest  of  old  in  the  figurative ; 
and  have  we  not  fresh  attestation  to  the 
truth  of  the  description,  that  Jesus  is 
"  a  minister  of  holy  things,  of  the  true 
tabernacle  which  the  Lord  pitched,  and 
not  man?  " 

We  think  that  the  several  particulars 
thus  adduced  constitute  a  strong  wit- 
ness, so  far  as  the  church  on  earth  is 
concerned,  to  the  accuracy  of  the  defi- 
nition presented  by  our  text.  We  have 
shown  you  that  to  all  true  believers 
Christ  Jesus  is  literally  the  minister  of 
the  sanctuary,  preaching  through  the 
preacher,  and  administering,  through 
his  hands,  the  sacraments.   And  though 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


27 


we  may  be  thought  to  have  herein 
somewhat  trenched  on  the  office  of  the 
Spirit,  we  have,  in  no  degree,  trans- 
gressed the  statements  of  Scripture. 
In  the  Book  of  Revelation,  it  is  Christ 
who  sends,  through  John,  the  sermons 
to  the  churches,  who  holds  in  his  right 
hand  the  seven  stars  which  represent 
the  ministers  of  these  churches,  and 
who  walketh  in  the  midst  of  the  seven 
golden  candlesticks  which  represent 
the  churches  themselves.  And  though, 
unquestionably,  it  is  the  Spirit  which 
carries  home  the  word,  the  delivery  of 
that  word  must  be  referred  to  the  Sa- 
vior. Thus,  in  a  somewhat  obscure 
passage  of  St.  Peter,  Christ  is  said  to 
have  gone  by  the  Spirit,  and  "  preached 
unto  the  spirits  in  prison."  1  Pet.  3  :  19. 
And  certainly  what  he  did  to  the  diso- 
bedient, he  may  justly  be  affirmed  to 
do  to  the  faithful.  We  have  further 
shown  you,  that,  as  the  high  priest  of 
his  people,  Christ  offers  up  continual 
sacrifice,  and  burns  sweet  incense.  And 
when  you  combine  these  particulars, 
you  have  virtually  before  you  the  Sa- 
vior in  the  pulpit  of  the  sanctuary,  the 
Savior  at  the  altar,  the  Savior  with  the 
censer ;  and  thus,  seeing  that  he  offici- 
ates in  the  whole  business  of  the  di- 
vinely-pitched tabernacle,  will  you  not 
confess  him  the  minister  of  that  taber- 
nacle 1 

But,  understanding  by  the  "  true  ta- 
bernacle "  the  collective  church  of  the 
redeemed,  whether  in  heaven  or  on 
earth,  we  have  yet  to  show  you  that 
Christ  is  the  minister  of  the  former  por- 
tion as  well  as  of  the  latter.  You  see, 
at  once,  that  the  "  true  tabernacle  "  can- 
not be  what  we  have  all  along  supposed, 
unless  there  be  ministerial  offices  dis- 
charged by  Christ  towards  the  saints  in 
glory.  And  we  think  that  the  over- 
looking the  title  of  minister,  or  rather 
the  identifying  it  with  that  of  high 
priest,  has  caused  the  unsatisfactori- 
ness  of  many  commentaries  on  the  pas- 
sage. As  High  Priest  of  the  spiritual 
temple,  Christ  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
execute  any  functions  in  which  those 
who  have  entered  into  heaven  are  per- 
sonally interested.  They  are  beyond 
the  power  of  sin,  and  therefore  need  not 
sacrifice.  The  music  of  their  praises 
is  rolled  from  celestial  harps,  and  re- 
quires not  to  be  melodized.  But,  when 
we  take  Christ  as  the  minister,  we  may 


observe  respects  in  which,  without  ad- 
venturing on  rash  speculation,  he  may 
be  said  to  discharge  the  same  offices 
to  the  church  above  and  the  church 
below.  We  shall  not  presume  to  speak 
of  what  goes  on  in  the  holy  of  holies, 
with  that  confidence  which  is  altogether 
unwarrantable,  when  discourse  turns 
on  transactions  of  which  the  outer 
court  is  the  scene.  But  finding  Christ 
described  as  the  "  minister  of  the  true 
tabernacle,"  and  considering  this  taber- 
nacle as  divided  into  sections,  we  only 
strive  to  be  wise  up  to  what  is  written, 
when,  observing  senses  in  which  the 
name  must  be  confined  to  the  lower 
section,  we  search  for  others  in  which 
it  may  be  extended  to  the  upper. 

And  if  Christ  minister  to  the  church 
below  by  discharging  the  office  of 
preacher  or  instructor,  who  shall  doiibt 
that  he  may  also  thus  minister  to  the 
church  above  1  We  have  already  re- 
ferred to  a  passage  in  St.  Peter  which 
speaks  of  Christ  as  having  "  preached 
to  the  spirits."  We  enter  not  into  the 
controversies  on  this  passage.  But  it 
gives,  we  think,  something  of  founda- 
tion to  the  opinion,  that  whilst  his  body 
was  in  the  sepulchre,  Christ  preached 
to  spirits  in  the  separate  state,  opening 
up  to  them,  probably,  those  mysteries 
of  I'edemption  into  which  even  angels, 
before-time,  had  vainly  striven  to  look. 
The  kings,  and  the  prophets,  and  the 
righteous  men,  who  had  desired  to  see 
the  things  which  apostles  saw,  and  had 
not  seen  them,  and  to  hear  the  things 
which  they  heard,  and  had  not  heard 
them — unto  these,  it  may  be,  Christ 
brought  a  glorious  roll  of  intelligence : 
and  we  can  imagine  him  standing  in 
the  midst  of  a  multitude  which  no  man 
can  number,  who  had  all  gone  down  to 
the  chambers  of  death  with  but  indis- 
tinct and  far-off  glimpses  of  the  pro- 
mised Messiah,  and  explaining  to  the 
eager  assembly  the  beauty,  and  the 
stability,  of  that  deliverance  which  he 
had  just  wrought  out  through  obe- 
dience and  blood-shedding.  And,  O, 
there  must  have  then  gone  forth  a  tide 
of  the  very  loftiest  gladness  through 
the  listening  crowds  of  the  separate 
state ;  and  then,  perhaps,  for  the  first 
time,  admiration  and  ecstasy  summon- 
ing out  the  music,  was  heard  that 
anthem,  whose  rich  peal  rolls  down 
the  coming   eternity,    "  Worthy,    wor- 


28 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


thy,  worthy  is  the  Lamb."  Then,  it 
may  be,  for  the  first  time,  did  Adam 
embrace  all  the  magnificence  of  the 
promise,  that  the  seed  of  the  woman 
should  bruise  the  serpent's  head ;  and 
Abraham  understood  how  the  well-be- 
ing of  the  human  popnlation  depended 
upon  one  that  should  spring  from  his 
own  loins ;  and  David  ascertain  all  the 
meaning  of  mysterious  strains,  which, 
as  prefiguring  Messiah,  he  had  swept 
from  the  harp-strings.  Then,  too,  the 
long  train  of  Aaron's  line,  who  had 
stood  at  the  altar  and  slain  the  victims, 
and  burnt  the  incense,  almost  weighed 
down  by  a  ritual,  the  import  of  whose 
ceremonies  was  but  indistinctly  made 
known — then,  it  may  be,  were  they  sud- 
denly and  sublimely  taught  the  power 
of  every  figure,  and  the  expressiveness 
of  every  rite ;  whilst  the  noble  com- 
pany of  prophets,  holy  men  who  "  spake 
as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,"  2  Pet.  1 :  21,  but  who,  rapt 
into  the  future,  uttered  much  which 
only  the  future  could  develope — these, 
as  though  starting  from  the  sleep  of 
ages,  sprang  into  the  centre  of  that 
gorgeous  panorama  of  truth  which  they 
had  been  commissioned  to  outline,  but 
over  whose  spreadings  there  had  rested 
the  cloud  and  the  mist ;  and  Isaiah 
thrilled  at  the  glories  of  his  own  say- 
ing, "  unto  us  a  child  is  bom,  unto  us  a 
son  is  given,"  Isaiah,  9:6;  and  Hosea 
grasped  all  the  mightiness  of  the  de- 
claration, which  he  had  poured  forth 
whilst  denouncing  the  apostacies  of  Sa- 
maria, "  O  Death,  I  will  be  thy  plagues  ; 
O  Grave,  I  will  be  thy  destruction." 
Hosea,  13:   14. 

We  know  not  why  it  may  not  thus 
be  considered  that  the  day  of  Christ's 
entrance  into  the  separate  state  was, 
like  the  Pentecostal  day  to  the  church 
upon  earth,  a  day  of  the  rolling  off  of 
obscurity  from  the  plan  of  redemption, 
and  of  the  showing  how  "  glory,  honor, 
and  immortality,"  Rom.  2 :  7,  were 
made  accessible  to  the  remotest  of  the 
world's  families ;  a  day  on  which  a 
thousand  types  gave  place  to  realities, 
and  a  thousand  predictions  leaped  into 
fulfilment :  a  day,  therefore,  on  which 
there  circulated  through  the  enormous 
gatherings  of  Adam  and  his  elect  pos- 
terity, already  ushered  into  rest,  a  glad- 
ness which  had  never  yet  been  reached 
in  all  the  depth  of  their  beatifical  re- 


pose.    And  neither,  then,  can  we  dis- 
cover   cause    why   Christ    may  not    be 
thought    to    have    filled    the    office    of 
preacher  to    the   buried   tribes  of  the 
righteous,    and   thus    to  have   assumed 
that  character  which  he  has  never  since 
laid  aside,    that  of  "  a  minister  of  the 
sanctuary,    and  of  the   true   tabernacle 
which  the  Lord  pitched,  and  not  man." 
We  know  but   little  of  the  condition 
of  separate  spirits  :  but   we  know,  as- 
suredly, from  the  witness  of  St.  Paul, 
that  they  are  "  present  with  the  Lord." 
2  Cor.  5 :  8.     Whatever  the  dwelling- 
place  which  they  tenant,  whilst  await- 
ing the  magnificent  things  of  a  resur- 
rection, the    glorified  humanity  of  the 
Savior  is  amongst  them,  and  they  are 
privileged  to  hold  immediate  commun- 
ings with  their  Head.     Thus  the  preach- 
er, the   mighty  expounder  of  the  will 
and  purposes  of  the  Father,  moves  to 
and  fro  through  the  admiring  throng ; 
and  the  souls  of  those  who  have  loved 
and  served  the  Redeemer  upon  earth, 
are  no  sooner  delivered  from  the  flesh, 
than  they  stand  in  the  presence  of  that 
illustrious  Being  who  spake  as  "  never 
man  spake."       Is   he  silent]      Was  it 
only  in  the  day  of  humiliation,  and  in  the 
hour  of  trouble,  that  he  had  instruction 
to  impart,  and  lessons  to  convey,  and 
deep  and  glorious  secrets  to  open  up  to 
the  faithful  1    He  who  described  himself 
as  actually  "  straitened  "  whilst  on  earth, 
who  had  many  things  to  say  which  his 
hearers  were  not  able  to  bear — think 
ye   that,  in   a  nobler  scene,   and  with 
spirits  before  him,  all  whose  faculties 
have  been  wonderously   enlarged   and 
sublimed,  he  delivers  not  the  homilies 
of  a  mightier  teaching,  and  leads    not 
on  his  people  to  loftier  heights  of  know- 
ledge,   and    broader   views    of    truth  ? 
Oh,    we    cannot   but   believe   that   the 
glorified  Redeemer  converses — though 
thought  cannot    scan  such    mysterious 
and     majestic    converse — with     those 
blessed  beings  who  "  have  washed  their 
robes    and   made    them   white, "    Rev. 
7:   14,  in  his  blood;  that  he  unfolds  to 
them  the  wonders  of  redemption ;  and 
teaches  them  the  magnificence  of  God  ; 
and  spreads    out    to   their    contempla- 
tion the  freight  of  splendor  wherewith 
the    second    Advent   is    charged ;     and 
carries   them  to    Pisgah   tops,  whence 
they  look  dowm  upon   the    landscapes, 
burning  with  the  purple  and  the  gold, 


CHRIST    THE    MINISTER    OP    THE    CHURCH. 


29 


across  which  they  shall  pass  when  at- 
tired in  the  livery  of  the  resurrection — 
thus  making  the  place  of  separate  spirits 
a  church,  himself  the  preacher,  immor- 
tality his  text.  Yea,  when  we  think  on 
the  countless  points  of  difference  and 
debate  between  men  who,  in  equal  sin- 
cerity, love  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  when  we 
observe  how  those,  who  alike  place  all 
their  hopes  on  the  Mediator,  hold  op- 
posite opinions  on  many  doctrines ; 
and  when  we  yet  further  remember, 
that  a  long  life-time  of  study  and  prayer 
leaves  half  the  Bible  unexplored ;  there 
is  so  much  to  be  unravelled,  so  much 
to  be  elucidated,  so  much  to  be  learned, 
that  we  can  suppose  the  Redeemer, 
day  by  day — if  days  there  be  where 
the  sun  never  sets — imparting  fresh  in- 
telligence to  the  enraptured  assembly, 
and  causing  new  gladness  to  go  the 
round  of  the  crowded  ranks,  as  he  ex- 
pounds a  difficulty,  and  justifies  the 
ways  of  God  to  man. 

And  whether  or  no  we  be  overbold 
in  even  hinting  at  the  possible  subject- 
matter  of  discourse,  we  only  vindicate 
the  title  which  our  text  gives  to  the 
Savior,  when  we  conclude  that  as  the 
God-man  passes  through  "  the  general 
assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born," 
Heb.  12 :  23,  he  wraps  not  himself  up 
in  silence  and  loneliness ;  but  that 
speaking,  as  he  spake  with  the  dis- 
ciples journeying  to  Emmaus,  he  opens 
wonders,  and  causes  every  heart  to 
burn  and  bound.  So  that,  removed  as 
is  the  church  within  the  veil  from  the 
ken  of  our  observation,  and  needing 
not,  as  it  cannot  need,  those  deeds  of 
an  intercessor,  which  engage  chiefly, 
in  our  own  case,  the  ministry  of  Christ, 
we  can  yet  be  confident  that  in  the 
Holy  of  Holies  there  goes  onward  a 
grand  work  of  instruction ;  and  thus 
ascertaining  that,  as  a  preacher  to  his 
people,  Christ's  office  is  not  limited  to 
those  who  sojourn  in  the  flesh,  we  can 
understand  by  the  "  true  tabernacle  " 
the  church  above  conjointly  wath  the 
church  below,  and  yet  pronounce,  un- 
reservedly, of  Jesus,  that  he  is  a  "  a 
minister  of  the  true  tabernacle  which 
the  Lord  pitched  and  not  man." 

Such,  brethreji,  is  our  account  of  the 
title  of  our  text,  whether  respect  be 
had  to  believers  in  glory,  or  to  believ- 
ers still  warring  upon  earth.  If  we  have 
dealt  correctly  with  the  passage,  it  fur- 


nishes one  great  practical  admonition, 
already  incidentally  mentioned,  which 
it  will  be  well  that  you  keep  diligently 
in  mind.  When  you  attend  the  services 
of  the  sanctuary,  remember  who  is  the 
minister  of  that  sanctuary.  You  run  to 
hear  this  man  preach,  and  then  that 
man.  But  who  amongst  you — let  me 
speak  it  with  reverence — comes  in  the 
humble,  prayerful,  faithful  hope  of 
hearing  Christ  preach  1  Yet  Christ  is 
the  "  minister  of  the  true  tabernacle." 
Christ  preaches,  through  his  servants, 
to  those  who  forget  the  instrument, 
and  use  meekly  the  ordinance. 

It  is  a  melancholy  and  dispiriting 
thing  to  observe  how  little  effect  seems 
wrought  by  preaching.  We  take  the 
case  of  a  crowded  sanctuary,  where  the 
business  of  listening  goes  on  with  a 
more  than  common  abstraction.  We 
may  have  before  us  the  rich  exhibition 
of  an  apparently  riveted  attention  ;  and 
the  breathless  stillness  of  a  multitude 
shall  give  witness  how  they  are  hang- 
ing on  the  lips  of  the  speaker.  And  if 
he  grow  impassioned,  and  pour  out  his 
oratory  on  things  ten-ibly  sublime,  the 
countenances  of  hundreds  shall  betray 
a  convulsion  of  spirit — and  if  he  speak 
Qflowino-ly  of  what  is  tender  and  beau- 
tiful,  the  sunnmess  m  many  eyes  shall 
testify  to  their  feeling  an  emotion  of 
delightsomeness.  But  we  are  not  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  charms  of  this 
spectacle.  We  know  too  thoroughly, 
that,  with  the  closing  of  the  sermon, 
may  come  the  breaking  of  the  spell; 
and  that  it  is  of  all  things  the  most  pos- 
sible, that,  if  we  pursued  to  their  homes 
these  earnest  listeners,  we  should  find 
no  proof  that  impression  had  been  made 
by  the  enunciated  truths,  and,  perhaps, 
no  more  influential  remembrance  of  the 
discourse,  by  whose  power  they  had 
been  borne  completely  away,  than  if 
they  had  sat  fascinated  by  the  loveli- 
ness of  a  melody,  or  awe-struck  at  the 
thunderings  of  an  avalanche. 

And  the  main  reason  of  all  this  we 
take  to  be  that  men  forget  the  ordi- 
nance, and  look  only  to  the  instrument. 
If  such  be  the  case,  it  is  no  marvel 
that  they  derive  nothing  from  preach- 
ing but  a  little  animal  excitement,  and 
a  little  head-knowledge.  If  you  listen 
not  for  the  voice  of  Christ,  who  shall 
wonder  that  you  hear  only  the  voice  of 
man,   and  so  go  away  to  your   homes 


30 


IMPOSSIBILITY    OF    CREATURE-MERIT. 


with  your  souls  unfed,  simply  equipped 
for  sitting  in  judgment  upon  the  ser- 
mon as  you  would  upon  a  tragedy,  and 
ready  to  begin  the  review  with  some 
caustic  remark,  which  shall  prove,  that, 
whatever  else  you  have  learned,  you 
have  not  learned  charity  1 

Alas  !  the  times  on  which  we  have 
fallen  are  so  evil,  that  there  is  almost  a 
total  losing-sight  of  the  ordinance  of  a 
visible  church.  Preaching  is  valued, 
not  as  Christ's  mode  of  ministering  to 
his  people,  and  therefore  always  to  be 
prized;  but  as  an  oratorical  display, 
whose  worth,  like  that  of  a  pleading  at 
the  bar,  is  to  be  judged  by  the  skill  of 
the  argument  and  the  power  of  the 
language. 

We  can  but  point  out  to  you  the  er- 
ror. It  must  remain  with  yourselves  to 
strive  to  correct  it.  "  Cease  ye  from 
man."  Isaiah  2  :  22.  When  and  where 
is  this  injunction  so  needful  as  in  a 
church,  and  on  a  Sabbath  1  Every  thing 


is  made  to  depend  on  the  clergyman. 
And  men  will  tell  you  that  he  is  very 
good,  but  very  dull ;  that  his  doctrine 
is  sound,  but  his  delivery  heavy ;  that 
he  is  inanimate,  or  ungraceful,  or  flow- 
ery, or  prosaic.  But  as  to  hearing  that 
he  is  Christ's  servant,  an  instrument  in 
his  Master's  hands — who  meets  with 
this  from  the  Dan  to  the  Beersheba  of 
our  Israel  ]  "  Cease  ye  from  man."  If 
ye  hope  to  be  profited  by  preaching  ;  if 
ye  would  become — and  this  is  a  noble 
thing — independent  of  the  preacher  ; 
strive  ye  diligently  to  press  home  upon 
your  minds,  as  ye  draw  nigh  to  the 
sanctuary,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  "  mi- 
nister of  the  true  tabernacle."  Thus 
shall  ye  be  always  secure  of  a  lesson, 
and  so  be  trained  gradually  for  that 
inner  court  of  the  temple  where,  sitting 
down  with  patriarchs,  and  apostles,  and 
saints,  at  the  feet  of  the  great  Preacher 
himself,  you  shall  leam,  and  enjoy,  im- 
mortality. 


SERMON  III. 


THE   IMPOSSIBILITY   OF   CREATURE-MERIT. 


"  For  all  things  come  of  thee,  and  of  thine  own  have  we  given  thee." — 1  Chronici.es,  xxix,  14. 


Full  of  years,  of  riches,  and  of  ho- 
nors, David,  the  raan  after  God's  own 
heart,  is  almost  ready  to  be  gathered  to 
his  fathers,  and  to  exchange  his  earthly 
diadem  for  one  radiant  with  immortali- 
ty. Yet,  ere  he  pass  into  his  Maker's 
temple  of  the  skies,  he  would  provide 
large  store  of  material  for  that  terres- 
trial sanctuary,  which,  though  it  must 
not  be  reared  by  himself,  he  knew  would 
be  builded  by  Solomon.  The  gold  and 
the  silver,  the  onyx  stones,  and  the 
stones  of  divers  colors,  and  the  mar- 
bles,   these,    and    other    less    precious 


commodities,  the  monarch  of  Israel 
had  heaped  together  for  the  work ;  and 
now  he  summons  the  princes  of  the 
congregation  to  receive  in  trust  the 
legacy.  _ 

Yet  it  was  comparatively  but  little 
to  bequeath  the  rich  and  costly  pro- 
duce of  the  earth ;  and  David  might 
have  felt  that  a  devoted  and  zealous 
spirit  outweighed  vastly  the  metal  and 
the  jewel.  He  indeed  could  leave  be- 
hind him  an  abundance  of  all  that  was 
needful  for  the  biiilding  in  Jerusalem  a 
house  for  the  ark  of  the  covenant ;  but 


IMPOSSIBILITY    OP    CREATURE-MERIT. 


31 


where  was  the  piety,  where  the  holi- 
■ness  of  enterprise  which  should  call  in- 
to being  the  fabric  of  his  wishes  ■? 

He  will  not  then  lie  down  in  his 
grave  without  breathing  over  the  rare 
and  glittering  heaps  a  stin-ing,  yea,  al- 
most thrilling  appeal ;  demanding  who, 
amid  the  assembled  multitude,  would 
emulate  his  example,  and  consecrate 
his  service,  that  day,  unto  the  Lord  ] 
It  augured  well  for  the  kingdom  of  Ju- 
dea  that  its  great  men,  and  its  nobles, 
answered  to  the  call,  as  a  band  of  de- 
voted warriors  to  the  trumpet-peal  of 
loyalty.  He  who  had  provided  rich 
garniture  for  the  temple's  walls,  and 
glorious  hymns  to  echo  through  its 
courts,  had  cause  to  lift  up  his  voice 
with  gladness,  and  bless  the  Lord,  wheu 
the  chief  of  the  fathers,  and  the  heads 
of  the  tribes,  offered  themselves  will- 
ingly, and  swelled,  by  the  gift  of  their 
own  possessions,  the  treasures  already 
devoted  to  the  sanctuary.  He  had  now 
good  earnest  that  the  cherished  pro- 
mise was  on  the  eve  of  fulfilment;  and 
that  though,  having  himself  shed  blood, 
and  been  a  man  of  war  from  his  youth, 
it  was  not  fitting  that  he  should  i^ear 
a  dwelling-place  for  Deity,  oue  who 
sprang  from  his  own  loins  should  be 
honored  as  the  builder  of  a  structure, 
into  which  Jehovah  would  descend 
with  the  cloudy  majesty  of  a  mystic 
Shekinah. 

But,  whilst  glad  of  heart  and  rejoic- 
ing, David  felt  deeply  how  unworthy 
he  was  of  the  mercies  which  he  had 
received,  and  how  marvellous  was  that 
favor  of  Deity  of  which  himself,  and 
his  people,  had  been  objects.  The  na- 
tion had  come  forward,  and,  with  a 
willing  heart,  dedicated  its  treasures  to 
Jehovah.  But  the  king,  whilst  exult- 
ing at  such  evidence  of  national  piety, 
knew  well  that  God  alone  had  imparted 
the  disposition  to  the  people,  and  that, 
therefore,  God  must  be  thanked  for 
what  was  offered  to  God.  "  Now,  there- 
fore," saith  he,  "  our  Grod,  we  thank 
thee,  and  praise  thy  glorious  name. 
But  who  am  I,  and  what  is  my  people, 
that  we  should  be  able  to  offer  so  will- 
ingly after  this  sort  ? "  Two  things, 
you  observe,  excited  his  gratitude  and 
surprise  :  first,  that  the  people  and  him- 
self should  have  so  much  to  offer;  se- 
condly, that  over  and  above  the  abili- 
ty, there  should  be  the  willingness,  to 


make  so  costly  an  oblation.  He  felt, 
that  God  had  dealt  wondrously  with 
Israel  in  emptying  into  its  lap  the 
riches  of  the  earth,  and  thus  rendering 
it  possible  that  piles  of  the  precious 
and  the  beautiful  might  be  given,  at 
his  summons,  for  the  work  of  the  tem- 
ple. But  then  he  also  fblt  that  the  land 
might  have  groaned  beneath  the  accu- 
mulations of  wealth ;  but  that,  had  not 
the  hearts  of  the  people  been  made 
willing  by  God,  no  fraction  of  the  enor- 
mous mass  would  have  been  yielded 
for  the  building  which  he  longed  to 
see  reared.  God  had  given  both  the 
substance,  and  the  willingness  to  con- 
secrate it  to  his  service.  And  when 
David  felt  the  privilege  of  a  temple  be- 
ing allowed  to  rise  in  Jerusalem,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  remembered  how  en- 
tirely it  was  of  God  that  there  was 
either  the  ability,  or  the  readiness,  to 
build  the  structure ;  he  might  well 
burst  into  the  exclamation,  "  Who  am 
I,  and  what  is  my  people,  that  we 
should  be  able  to  offer  so  willingly 
after  this  sort  1  "  and  then  add,  in  the 
words  of  our  text,  "  For  all  things 
come  of  thee,  and  of  thine  own  have 
we  given  thee." 

You  may  thus  perceive  the  connec- 
tion between  the  words  on  which  we 
are  to  meditate,  and  those  which  im- 
mediately precede.  David,  as  we  have 
shown  you,  expressed  surprise  on  two 
accounts,  each  of  which  is  indicated 
by  our  text.  He  marvels  that  God 
should  have  blessed  the  people  with 
such  abundance,  and  explains  why  he 
ascribes  the  abundance  to  God,  by  say- 
ing, "  All  things  come  of  thee."  But 
he  is  also  amazed  at  the  condescension 
of  God  in  giving  willingness,  as  well 
as  ability,  to  the  people.  God  needed 
not  to  receive  at  the  creature's  hands, 
and,  therefore,  it  was  pure  love  which 
moved  him  thus  to  influence  the  heart. 
Nothing  could  be  presented  to  him 
which  was  not  already  his ;  and  might 
not  then  David  be  justly  overpowered 
by  the  graciousness  of  God,  seeing 
that,  however  noble  the  offering,  *'  of 
fliive  own  have  we  given  thee,"  must 
be  the  confession  by  which  it  was  at- 
tended % 

There  will  be  no  necessity,  after 
having  thus  stated  the  occasion  on 
which  the  text  was  delivered,  and  the 
meaning  which  it  originally  bore,  that 


32 


IMPOSSIBILITY    OF    CUEATURE-MERIT. 


we  refer  again  to  the  preparations  of 
David  for  building  the  temple.  It  is 
evident  that  the  words  are  of  most 
general  applicability,  and  that  we  need 
not  take  account  of  the  circumstances 
of  the  individual  who  first  uttered  them, 
when  we  would  interpi-et  their  mean- 
ing, or  extract  their  lessons.  We  shall, 
therefore,  proceed  to  consider  the  pas- 
sage as  detached  from  the  context,  and 
as  thus  presenting  us  with  truths  which 
concern  equally  every  age  and  every 
individual. 

We  regard  the  words  before  us  as 
resisting,  with  singular  power,  the  no- 
tion that  a  creature  can  merit.  We 
know  not  the  point  in  theology  which 
requires  to  be  oftener  stated,  or  more 
carefully  established,  than  the  impossi- 
bility that  a  creature  should  merit  at 
the  hands  of  the  Creator.  It  is  not  to 
be  controverted  that  men  are  disposed 
to  entertain  the  opinion  that  creature- 
merit  is  possible,  so  that  they  have  it 
in  their  power  to  effect  something  de- 
serving recompense  from  God.  They 
will  not  indeed  always  set  the  point  of 
merit  very  high.  They  will  rather  imi- 
tate the  Pharisee  in  the  parable,  who 
evidently  thought  himself  meritorious 
for  stopping  a  degree  or  two  short  of 
being  scandalous.  "  God,  I  thank  thee 
that  I  am  not  as  other  men  are,  extortion- 
ers, unjust,  adulterers."  Luke,  18:  11. 
But  whether  it  be  at  a  low  point  or  a 
lofty,  that  merit  is  supposed  to  com- 
mence, every  man  must  own  as  his  natu- 
ral sentiment  that  it  commences  at  some 
point;  and  each  one  of  us,  if  he  have 
ever  probed  his  own  heart,  will  confess 
himself  prone  to  the  persuasion,  that 
the  creature  can  lay  the  Creator  under 
obligation.  We  find  ourselves  able  to 
deserve  well  of  one  another,  to  confer 
favors,  and  to  contract  debts.  And 
when  we  carry  up  our  thoughts  from 
the  finite  to  the  infinite,  we  quite  for- 
get the  total  change  in  the  relation- 
ship ;  and  we  perceive  not  that  the  po- 
sition in  which  we  stand  to  our  Maker 
excludes  those  desei-vings  which,  un- 
questionably, have  place  between  man 
and  man.  Men  simply  view  God  as  the 
mightiest  of  sovereigns,  and,  knowing 
it  possible  to  do  a  favor  to  their  king, 
conclude  it  possible  to  do  a  favor  to  their 
God. 

Now  it  must  be  of  fii-st-rate  impor- 
tance that  we  ascertain  the  truth  or  the 


falsehood  of  such  a  conclusion.  The 
method  in  which  we  may  look  to  be 
saved  will  greatly  vary,  according  as 
we  admit,  or  deny,  the  possibility  of 
merit.  It  is  quite  clear  that  our  moral 
position,  if  we  cannot  merit,  must  be 
vastly  different  from  what  it  is,  if  we 
can  merit,  and  that,  consequently,  the 
apparatus  of  deliverance  cannot,  in  the 
two  cases,  be  the  same.  So  that  it  is 
no  point  of  curious  and  metaphysical 
speculation,  whether  merit  be  consist- 
ent with  creatureship.  On  the  contrary, 
there  cannot  be  a  question  whose  de- 
cision involves  inferences  of  greater 
practical  moment.  If  I  can  merit,  sal- 
vation may  be  partly  of  debt,  and  I 
may  earn  it  as  wages.  If  I  cannot  me- 
rit, salvation  must  be  wholly  of  grace, 
and  I  must  receive  it  as  a  gift.  And 
thus  every  dispute  upon  justification 
by  faith,  every  debate  in  reference  to 
works  as  a  procuring  cause  of  accept- 
ance, would  virtually  be  settled  by  the 
settlement  of  the  impossibility  of  crea- 
ture-merit. Questions  such  as  these 
are  best  deteiTnined  by  reference  to 
first  principles.  And  if  you  had  once 
demonstrated  that  merit  is  inconsist- 
ent with  creatureship,  you  would  have 
equally  demonstrated  that  neither  faith, 
nor  works,  can  procure  man's  salvation 
in  the  way  of  desert ;  but  that,  what- 
ever the  instrumentality  through  which 
justification  is  effected,  justification  it- 
self must  be  wholly  of  grace. 

Now  we  think,  that,  in  examining 
the  words  of  our  text,  we  shall  find 
powerful  reasons  from  which  to  con- 
clude the  imjjossibility  of  merit.  The 
text  may  be  said  to  state  a  fact,  and 
then  an  inference  from  that  fact.  The 
fact  is,  that  "  All  things  come  of  God :  " 
the  inference  is,  that  a  creature  can 
give  God  nothing  which  is  not  already 
his  own.  We  will  examine  successively 
the  fact,  and  the  inference;  and  then 
apply  the  passage  to  the  doctrine  which 
we  desire  to  establish. 

We  are,  in  the  tii-st  place,  to  speak 
on  the  stated  fact,  that  all  things  come 
of  God. 

Now  there  is  nothing  more  wonder- 
ful in  respect  to  Deity  than  that  uni- 
versality of  operation  which  is  always 
ascribed  to  him.  One  grand  distinction 
between  the  infinite  being,  and  all  finite 
beings,  appears  to  us  to  l>e,  that  the 
one  can  be  working  a  thousand  things 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OP  CREATURE-MERIT. 


33 


at  once,  whilst  the  energies  of  the 
others  must  confine  themselves  to  one 
work  at  one  time.  If  you  figure  to  your- 
selves the  highest  of  created  intelligen- 
ces, you  endows  him  with  a  might  which 
leaves  immeasurably  behind  the  noblest 
human  powers  ;  but  you  never  think  of 
investing  him  with  the  ability  of  act- 
ing, at  the  same  time,  on  this  globe, 
and  on  one  of  those  far-off  planets 
which  we  see  travelling  around  us.  You 
make,  in  short,  the  strength  of  an  arch- 
angel by  multiplying  the  strength  of  a 
man.  But,  whatever  the  degree  up  to 
which  you  think  it  needfiil  to  multiply, 
you  never  add  to  the  strength  the  in- 
comprehensible property,  that  it  may 
be  exerting  itself,  at  the  same  moment, 
in  places  between  which  there  is  an 
untravelled  separation,  and  causing  its 
mightiness  to  be  simultaneously  felt  in 
the  various  districts  of  a  crowded  im- 
mensity. If  you  even  multiplied  finite 
power  till  you  supposed  it  to  become 
infinite,  you  would  only  keep  adding 
to  its  intenseness,  and  would  in  no  de- 
gree attribute  to  it  ubiquity.  And,  how- 
ever you  might  suppose  this  multiplied 
power  capable  of  wonders  which  seem 
to  demand  the  interpositions  of  Deity, 
you  would  still  consider,  that  these 
wonders  must  be  performed  in  succes- 
sion ;  and  you  would  never  imagine  of 
the  power,  that,  in  the  depths  of  every 
ocean,  and  on  the  surface  of  every  star, 
it  could,  at  the  same  instant,  be  putting 
forth  its  magnificent  workings. 

And  thus  it  is  that  the  Omnipresence 
of  Godhead  is  that  property,  which, 
more  than  any  other,  outruns  our  con- 
ceptions. In  multiplying  power,  so  to 
speak,  you  never  multiply  presence. 
But  when  you  had  even  wrought  up 
the  idea  of  a  power  which  can  create, 
and  annihilate,  you  would  give  it  one 
thing  to  create  at  once,  and  one  thing 
to  annihilate  at  once ;  and  you  would 
never  suppose  it  busy  equally,  in  all  its 
glory  and  all  its  resistlessness,  in  every 
department  of  an  universe,  and  with  ev- 
ery fraction  of  infinity. 

So  that  the  topmost  marvel  is  that 
"  All  things  come  of  God."  The  un- 
approachable mystery — it  is  not  that 
God  should  be  in  the  midst  of  this 
sanctuary,  and  that  he  should  be  minis- 
tering life  to  those  gathered  within 
its  walls — it  is,  that  he  should  be  no 
more  here  than  he  is  elsewhere,   and 


no  more  elsewhere  than  he  is  here ;  and 
that  with  as  actual  a  concentration  of 
energy  as  though  he  had  no  other  oc- 
cupation, he  should  be  supplying  our 
fast-recurring  necessities ;  and  yet  that, 
with  such  a  diffusion  of  presence  as 
causes  him  to  be  equally  every  where, 
he  should  superintend  each  district  of 
creation,  and  give  out  vitality  to  each 
order  of  beings.  "  All  things  come  of 
God."  It  is  not  merely  that  all  things 
come»  of  God  by  original  production ; 
all  things  come  of  God  by  after-sus- 
tainment.  And  whether  you  consider 
the  visible  world,  or  the  invisible ;  whe- 
ther you  extend  your  thoughts  over  the 
unmeasured  fields  of  materialism,  or 
send  them  to  the  sui-vey  of  those  count- 
less ranks  of  intelligence  which  stretch 
upwards  between  yourselves  and  your 
Maker — you  are  bound  to  the  belief 
that  every  spot  in  the  unlimited  space, 
and  every  member  of  the  teeming  as- 
semblage, requires  and  receives  the 
operations  of  Deity ;  and  that  if,  for  a 
lonely  instant,  those  operations  were 
suspended,  worlds  would  jostle  and  make 
a  new  chaos,  while  a  disastrous  bank- 
ruptcy of  life  would  succeed  to  the  pre- 
sent exuberance  of  animation. 

So  that  it  is  as  true  of  the  angelic 
hosts,  moving  in  their  power  and  their 
purity,  as  of  ourselves,  fallen  from  im- 
mortality, and  beggared,  and  weaken- 
ed, that  "  all  things  come  of  God." 
There  can  be  but  one  independent  be- 
ing, and  on  that  one  all  others  must 
depend.  An  independent  being  must, 
necessarily,  be  self-existent,  possess- 
ing in  himself  all  the  well-springs  of 
life,  and  all  the  sources  of  happiness. 
A  being  whose  existence  is  derived 
must,  as  necessarily,  be  dependent  on 
the  first  author  for  the  after-continu- 
ance. A  being  who  could  do  without 
God  would  himself  be  God ;  and  there 
needs  no  argument  to  prove  to  you, 
that,  whatever  else  God  could  make, 
he  could  not  make  himself  And  you 
must  take  it,  therefore,  as  a  truth  which 
admits  not  limitation,  that  "  all  things 
come  of  God;  "  so  that  there  is  not  the 
order  of  creatures,  whether  material  or 
immaterial,  which  stands  not,  every 
moment,  indebted  for  every  thing  to 
God,  or  which,  however  rare  its  en- 
dovnnents,  and  however  majestic  its 
possessions,  could  dispense,  for  one 
instant,  with  communications  from  the 
5 


34 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATURE-MERIT. 


fulness  of  the  Almighty,  or  be  thrown 
on  its  own  energies,  without  being 
thrown  to  darkness  and  destruction. 

And  though  it  suit  not  our  purpose 
that  we  should  dwell  long  on  the  fact 
that    "  all    things   come  of  God,"  yet, 
associated  as  this  iact  is  with  whatso- 
ever is   most   wonderful  in  Deity,   we 
may  call  upon  you  to  admire  it,  before 
we  proceed  to  the  inference  which  it 
furnishes.     It  is  an  august  and  an  over- 
powering thought,  that  our  God  should 
be  alike  present  on  every  star,  and  in 
each  of  its  minutest  recesses  ;   and  that, 
though    there   be    a   vast    employment 
of  the    mechanism    of    second    causes, 
there  is  not  wrought  a  beneficial  effect 
throughout    the    boundless    expansions 
of  creation,    whose    actual    authorship 
can  be  referred  to  any  thing  short  of 
the  first  great  cause.     It  is  a  noble  con- 
templation, though  one    by  which  our 
faculties  are  presently  confounded,  that 
of  the   whole   universe    hanging  upon 
Deity  ;   archangel,  and  angel,  and  man, 
and  laeast,  and  worm,  receiving  momen- 
tary supplies  from  the  same  inexhausti- 
ble fountain  ;  and  every  tenant  of  every 
system   appealing   to  the  common    pa- 
rent to  preserve  it,  each  instant,  from 
extinction.     Oh,  we  take  it  for  a  cold, 
and    a  withered    heart,   which   is    con- 
scious of  no  unusual   and  overcoming 
emotions,  when  there  is  told  forth  the 
amazing  fact,  that  the  God,  who  heark- 
ens to  the  prayer  of  the  meanest  and 
most  despised,  and  who  is  verily  pre- 
sent, in  all  his  omnipotence,  when  in- 
voked by  the  very  poorest  of  the  chil- 
dren of  calamity,  should  be   actuating, 
at  the  same  moment,  all  the  machinery 
■of  the  universe,  and    inspiring  all    its 
animation  ;   guiding  the  rollings  of  every 
planet,  and  the  leap  of  every  cataract, 
and  dealing  out  existence  to  every  thing 
that  breatheth.     We  say  again  that  it  is 
this  property  of  God,   the   property  of 
acting  every  where  at  once,  so  that  all 
things    come    of  him,    which    removes 
him  furthest  from  companionship  with 
the  finite,  and  makes  him  inaccessible 
to  all  the  soarings  of  the  creature.     It 
is  the   property  to  which  we  have  no- 
thing   analogous     amongst    ourselves, 
even  on  the   most  reduced   and  minia- 
ture scale.     A  creature  must  be  local. 
He  must  cease  to  act  in  one  place  be- 
fore he   can  begin  to   act  in   another. 
But  the  Creator  knows  nothing  whether 


of  distance  or  time.  Inhabiting  su- 
blimely both  infinity  and  eternity,  there 
cannot  be  the  spot  in  space,  nor  the  in- 
stant in  duration,  when  and  where  he 
is  not  equally  present.  And  seeing  that 
he  thus  occupies  the  universe,  not  as 
being  diffused  over  it,  but  as  existing, 
in  all  his  integrity,  in  its  every  division 
and  subdivision ;  and,  seeing,  moreover, 
that  he  waits  not  the  passage  of  cen- 
turies, but  is  at  "  the  end  from  the  be- 
ginning;" Isaiah,  46  :  10  ;  it  can  be  li- 
terally true,  without  exaggeration,  and 
without  figure,  that  "  all  things  come 
of  him  ;  "  whatsoever  there  is  of  good 
being  wrought  by  him,  whatsoever  of 
evil,  permitted ;  the  present  being  of 
his  performance,  and  the  future  of  his 
appointment. 

And  it  is  worth  observing,  that,  if  it 
must  be  the  confession  of  every  order 
of  being  that  "all  things,"  whatsoever 
they  possess,  "come  of  God,"  such 
confession  must  be  binding,  with  a  dou- 
ble force,  upon  man.  It  must  be  true 
of  us,  on  the  principles  which  prove  it 
true  generally  of  creatures,  that  we 
have  nothing  which  we  have  not  re- 
ceiA'ed,  and  for  which,  therefore,  we 
stand  not  indebted  to  Deity.  But  then, 
by  our  rebellion  and  apostacy,  there 
was  a  forfeiture,  we  say  not  of  rights — 
for  we  deny  that  the  creature  can  have 
right  to  any  thing  from  the  Creator — 
but  of  those  privileges  which  God,  in 
his  mercy,  confeiTod  on  the  work  of 
his  hands.  As  a  benevolent  being,  we 
may  be  sure  that  God  would  not  call 
creatures  into  existence,  and  then  dis- 
miss them  from  his  care  and  his  guar- 
dianship. And  though  we  pretend  not 
to  say  that  creatureship  gave  a  positive 
claim  on  the  Creator,  it  rendered  it  a 
thing  on  which  we  might  venture  to 
calculate,  that,  so  long  as  the  creature 
obeyed,  the  Creator  would  minister  to 
his  every  necessity.  But,  as  soon  as 
there  was  a  failure  in  obedience,  it  v/as 
no  longer  to  be  expected  that  creature- 
ship  would  insure  blessings.  The  in- 
stant that  a  race  of  beings  declined  from 
loyalty  to  God,  there  was  nothing  to 
be  looked  for  but  the  suspension  of  all 
the  outgoings  of  the  Creator's  benefi- 
cence ;  seeing  that  the  law,  entailed  by 
creatureship,  having  been  violated,  the 
privileges  to  which  it  admitted  were  of 
necessity  forfeited. 

And  this  was   the  position   in  which 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATURE-MERIT. 


35 


the  human  race  stood,  when,  by  the 
first  transgiession,  God's  service  was 
renounced.  Wliatever  the  fairness  with 
which  Adam  might  have  calculated, 
that,  if  he  continued  obedient,  his  every 
want  would  be  supplied,  he  could  not 
reckon,  when  he  had  broken  the  com- 
mand, on  a  breath  of  air,  or  a  ray  of  sun- 
shine, or  a  particle  of  food.  It  was  no 
longer,  if  we  may  use  the  expression, 
natural,  that  he  should  be  upheld  in  be- 
ing and  sufficiency.  On  the  contrary, 
the  probability  must  have  been  that  he 
would  be  immediately  annihilated,  or 
left  to  consume  away  piece-meal.  And 
since,  in  spite  of  this  forfeiture,  we  are 
still  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  the  means 
and  mercies  of  existence,  we  must  be 
bound  even  far  more  than  angels  who 
never  transgressed,  to  acknowledge 
that  "  all  things  come  of  God."  Angels 
receive  all  things  by  the  charter  of  crea- 
tion. But  man  tore  up  that  charter ; 
and  we  should  therefore  receive  no- 
thing, had  there  not  been  given  us  a 
new  charter,  even  the  charter  of  re- 
demption. So  that  God  hath  made  a 
fresh  and  special  arrangement  on  be- 
half of  the  fallen.  And  now,  whatso- 
ever we  possess,  whether  it  have  to  do 
vnth  our  intellectual  part,  or  our  ani- 
mal, with  the  present  life  or  the  future, 
is  delivered  into  our  hands  stamped,  so 
to  speak,  with  the  sign  of  the  cross  ; 
and  we  learn  that  "all  things  come  of 
God,"  because  all  things,  even  the  most 
common  and  insignificant,  flow  through 
the  channel  of  a  superhuman  mediation, 
and  are  sprinkled  with  the  blood  to 
which  Divinity  gave  preciousness. 

But  we  may  consider  that  we  have 
sufficiently  examined  the  fact  asserted 
in  our  text,  and  may  pass  on,  secondly, 
to  the  inference  which  it  furnishes. 

This  inference  is — and  you  can  re- 
quire no  argument  to  prove  to  you  its 
justice — that  we  can  give  God  nothing 
which  is  not  already  his.  "All  things 
come  of  thee,  and  of  thine  oion  have 
we  given  thee."  You  must  perceive  at 
once,  that,  if  it  be  true  of  the  creatures 
of  every  rank  of  intelligence,  that  they 
possess  nothing  which  they  have  not 
received  from  God,  they  can  offer  no- 
thing which  is  purely  and  strictly  their 
Qivra..  But  it  is  necessary  that  we  ex- 
amine, with  something  of  attention,  in- 
to the  nature  of  God's  gifts,  in  order  to 
remove  an  objection  which  might  be 


brought  against  our  statements.  If  one 
creature  give  a  thing  to  another,  he 
ceases  to  have  property  in  the  gift,  and 
cannot  again  claim  it  as  his  own.  If  a 
man  make  me  a  present,  he  virtually 
cedes  all  title  to  the  thing  given  ;  and 
if  I  were  afterwards  to  restore  him  the 
whole,  or  a  part,  it  would  be  of  mine 
own,  and  not  of  his  own,  that  I  gave 
him.  But  if — for  even  amongst  our- 
selves we  may  find  a  case  somewhat 
analogous  to  that  of  the  Creator  in  his 
dealings  with  creatures — if  I  were  re- 
duced to  utter  poverty,  with  no  means 
whatsoever  of  earning  a  livelihood ;  and 
if  a  generous  individual  came  forward, 
and  gave  me  capital,  and  set  me  up  in 
trade  ;  and  if,  in  mine  after-prosperity, 
I  should  bring  my  benefactor  some  of- 
fering expressive  of  gratitude  ;  it  is 
clear  that  I  might,  with  the  strictest 
truth,  say,  "  of  thine  own  do  I  give 
thee."  I  should  be  indebted  to  my  be- 
nefactor for  what  I  was  able  to  give  ; 
and,  of  course,  that  for  which  I  stood 
indebted  to  him  might  be  declared  to 
be  his.  But  even  this  case  comes  far 
short  of  that  of  the  Creator  and  the 
creature.  The  creature  belongs  to  God: 
and  God,  therefore,  cannot  give  to  the 
creature  in  that  sense  in  which  one 
creature  may  give  to  another.  All  that 
the  creature  is,  and  all  that  the  crea- 
ture has,  appertains  to  God  ;  so  that,  in 
giving,  God  alienates  not  his  property 
in  that  which  he  bestows.  If  he  own, 
so  to  speiak,  the  angel,  or  the  man,  then 
whatever  the  angel  or  the  man  possesses 
belongs  still  to  his  proprietor ;  and 
though  that  proprietor  may  give  things 
to  be  used,  they  must  continue  Ids  own, 
in  themselves  and  in  their  produce.  Ir 
indeed  it  were  possible  that  a  creature 
could  become  the  property  of  any  other 
than  the  Creator,  it  might  be  also  pos- 
sible that  a  creature  could  possess  what 
was  not  the  Creator's.  But  as  long  as 
it  is  certain  that  no  creature  can  have 
right  to  call  himself  his  own — the  fact 
of  creation  making  him  God's  by  an 
invulnerable  title — it  ought  to  be  re- 
ceived as  a  self-evident  ti-uth,  that  no 
creature  can  possess  a  good  thing  which 
is  his  own.  All  which  he  receives  from 
the  bounty  of  God  still  belongs  to  God. 
So  that  if  whatsoever  is  brilliant  and 
holy  in  the  universe  combined  to  fashion 
an  offering ;  if  the  depths  of  the  mines 
were  fathorned  for  the  richest  of  me- 


36 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OP  CREATURE-MERIT. 


tals,  and  the  starry  pavilions  swept  of 
their  jewellery,  and  the  ranks  of  the 
loftiest  intelligence  laid  under  contribu- 
tion ;  there  could  be  poured  no  gift  into 
the  coffers  of  heaven  ;  but  the  splendid 
oblation,  thus  brought  to  the  Almighty, 
would  be  his  before,  as  much  as  after 
presentation. 

And  this  truth  it  is  by  which  we  look 
to  demonstrate  the  impossibility  of 
creature-merit.  We  will  begin  with  the 
highest  order  of  created  intelligence, 
and  we  will  ask  you  whether  the  angel, 
or  the  archangel,  can  merit  of  God  ? 
If  one  being  merit  of  another,  it  must 
perform  some  action  which  it  was  not 
obliged  to  perform,  and  by  which  that 
other  is  advantaged.  Nothing  else,  as 
you  must  perceive  if  you  will  be  at  the 
pains  of  thinking,  can  constitute  merit, 
I  do  another  a  favor,  and,  therefore,  de- 
serve at  his  hands,  if  I  do  something  by 
which  he  is  profited,  and  which  I  was 
not  obliged,  by  mere  duty,  to  do.  If 
either  of  these  conditions  fail,  merit 
must  vanish.  If  the  other  party  gain 
nothing,  he  can  owe  me  nothing ;  and  \ 
if  I  have  only  done  what  duty  prescri-  j 
bed,  he  had  a  right  to  the  action,  and  | 
cannot,  therefore,  have  been  laid  under 
obligation. 

Now  if  this  be  a  just  description  of 
merit,  can  the  angel  or  the  archangel 
deserve  any  thing  of  God  ?  We  waive 
the  consideration,  that,  if  there  be  merit, 
God  must  be  advantaged — though  there 
lies  in  it  the  material  of  an  overpower- 
ing proof  that  the  notion  of  creature- 
merit  is  little  short  of  blasphemous. 
Who  can  think  of  being  profitable  unto 
God,  when  he  remembers  thie  independ- 
ence of  Deity,  and  calls  to  mind  that 
there  was  a  time  when  the  Creator  had 
not  surrounded  himself  with  worlds  and 
tribes,  and  when,  occupied  with  glori- 
ous and  ineffable  communings,  the  Fa- 
ther, Son,  and  Spirit,  reaped  in  from  the 
deep  solitudes  of  immensity  as  full  a 
revenue  of  happiness  as  they  now  ga- 
ther from  its  thickly-peopled  circles  ? 
No  creature  can  do  without  God.  But 
God  could  have  done  without  creatures. 
They  were  not  necessary  to  God. 
There  was  no  void  in  his  blessedness 
which  required  the  contributions  of 
creatures  before  it  could  be  filled  up. 
And  it  must  be  absurd  to  talk  of  ad- 
vantaging God,  when  we  know  that 
his    magnificence    and    his    happiness 


would  have  been  infinite,  had  he  chosen 
to  dwell  forever  in  his  sublime  loneli- 
ness, and  suffered  not  the  stillness  of 
the  unmeasured  expanse,  full  only  of 
himself,  to  be  broken  by  the  hum  of  a 
swarming  population. 

But  we  waive  this  consideration.  We 
fasten  you  to  the  fact,  that  a  merito- 
rious action  must  be  an  action  of  which 
duty  demands  not  the  performance.  If 
the  angel  have  spare  time  which  be- 
longs not  to  God ;  if  the  angel  have 
material  which  belongs  not  to  God  ;  let 
the  angel  bestow  that  time  upon  that 
material,  and  let  him  bring  the  result 
as  an  oblation  to  his  Maker ;  and  there 
shall  be  merit  in  that  oblation  ;  and  he 
shall  gain  a  recompense  on  the  plea  oi 
desert  :  according  to  the  rule  which  an 
apostle  hath  laid  down,  "  who  hath  first 
given  to  the  Lord,  and  it  shall  be  re- 
compensed unto  him  again  %  "  Romans, 
11  :  35.  If  the  angel  have  powers  which 
he  is  under  no  obligation  of  consecra- 
ting to  God ;  if  they  are  mightier  than 
suffice  for  duty ;  and  if  there  be,  there- 
fore, an  overplus  which  he  is  at  liberty 
to  bestow  on  some  work  of  superero- 
gation ;  let  him  employ  these  uncalled- 
for  energies  in  extra  and  unprescribed 
service,  and,  doubtless,  his  claim  shall 
not  be  unheeded  when  he  gives  in  the 
additional  and  voluntary  performance. 
But  if  the  angel  have  time  which  be- 
longs not  to  God ;  and  if  the  angel 
have  power  which  ho  is  not  required 
to  dedicate  to  God ;  there  is  an  end  of 
the  proved  truth,  "  of  thine  oion  have 
we  given  thee."  In  determiuring  the 
question,  whether  a  creature  can  merit, 
we  have  nothing  to  do,  abstractedly, 
with  the  magnificence  of  the  energies 
of  that  creature,  nor  with  the  stupen- 
dousness  of  the  achievments  which  he 
is  capable  of  effecting.  There  is  not 
of  necessity,  any  greater  reason  why 
an  angel  should  merit,  because  able  to 
move  a  world,  than  why  a  worm  should 
merit,  because  just  able  to  crawl  upon 
its  surface.  The  whole  question  of  the 
possibility  of  merit  is  a  question  of  the 
possibility  of  outrunning  duty.  Unless 
duty  be  exceeded,  every  creature  must 
receive,  as  applicable  to  himself,  the 
words  of  the  Savior,  "  When  ye  shall 
have  done  all  those  things  which  are 
commanded  you,  say,  we  are  unprofita- 
ble servants,  (and,  if  unprofitable,  cer- 
tainly not  meritorious ;)  we  have  done 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OP  CREATURE-MERIT. 


87 


that  which  was  our  duty  to  do."  Luke, 
17:  10. 

And  if  duty  thus  exclude  merit,  the 
condition  of  the  angel,  as  much  as  that 
of  the  worm,  excludes  merit.  If  all 
whidh  the  angel  has  belong  to  the  Cre- 
tor;  if  that  noble  intelligence  which 
elevates  him  far  above  our  own  level 
be  the  property  of  God ;  if  that  awful 
might,  which  could  strew  the  ground 
with  the  thousands  of  the  Assyrian 
host,  be  communicated  by  Deity ;  if 
that  velocity  of  flight,  which  fits  him 
to  go  on  embassages  to  the  very  out- 
skirts of  creation,  be  imparted  by  his 
Maker — there  must  be  a  demand,  an  in- 
alienable demand,  upon  the  angel,  for 
every  instant  of  his  time,  and  for  every 
fraction  of  his  strength,  and  for  every 
waving  of  his  wing.  Duty,  the  duty 
which  is  imposed  upon  him  by  the  fact 
of  his  creatureship,  can  draw  no  fron- 
tier-line excluding  from  a  required  con- 
secration to  God  the  minutest  item  of 
those  multiform  possessions,  which  ren- 
der him  a  splendid  and  masterful  thing, 
the  nearest  approach  to  Divinity  in  all 
that  interminable  series  of  productions 
which  bounded  into  being  at  the  call 
of  the  Omnipotent. 

So  that  the  angel,  just  as  much  as 
the  meanest  of  creatures,  must  say  of 
all  that  he  can  bring  to  God,  of  thine 
own  do  I  give  thee.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
costlier  offering  than  the  human  eye 
hath  seen,  or  the  human  thought  ima- 
gined. There  is  a  fervor  of  affection, 
and  a  grasp  of  understanding,  and  a 
strenuousness  of  labor,  ay,  and  an  in- 
tenseness  of  self-abasement  and  humi- 
lity, which  enter  not  into  the  best  and 
purest  of  the  oblations  which  are  laid 
by  ourselves  at  the  feet  of  our  Maker. 
But  as  there  is  not  one  jot  less  than 
duty  prescribes,  neither  is  there  one 
jot  more.  God  gave  all  which  is 
brought  to  him.  His  the  glowing  love. 
His  the  soaring  intellect.  His  the  aw- 
ful vigor.  His  the  beautiful  lowliness. 
And  shall  he  be  laid  under  obligation 
by  his  own  %  Shall  he  be  bound  to 
make  return,  because  he  hath  received 
of  his  own  %  Oh,  we  may  discuss,  and 
debate,  upon  earth,  the  possibility,  or 
the  impossibility,  of  creature-merit. 
But  we  may  be  sure,  that,  if  the  ques- 
tion could  be  propounded  to  angels,  the 
thought  of  merit  would  be  rejected  as 
treason.  Standing  in  the  immediate  pre- 


sence of  their  glorious  Creator ;  privi- 
leged to  gaze,  so  far  as  it  is  possible 
for  creatures  to  gaze  without  being 
withered,  on  his  unveiled  lustres  ;  and 
fraught  with  the  consciousness,  that, 
however  wonderful  their  powers  and 
capacities,  they  possess  nothing  which 
God  did  not  give,  and  which  God  might 
not  instantly  withdmw — angels  must 
feel  that  the  attempt  to  deserve  of  the 
Almighty  would  be  tantamount  to  an 
attempt  to  dethrone  the  Almighty,  and 
that  the  supposing  that  more  might  be 
done  than  is  demanded  by  duty,  would 
be  the  supposing  an  eternity  exhausted, 
and  time  left  for  some  praiseworthy 
exploits.  Angels  must  discern,  with  an 
acuteness  of  perception  never  reached 
by  ourselves  whilst  hampered  by  cor- 
ruption, that  each  energy  in  their  en- 
dowment constitutes  a  requisition  for 
a  contribution  of  glory  to  Jehovah ; 
and  that  the  endeavor  to  employ  it  to 
the  procuring  greatness,  or  happiness, 
for  themselves,  would  amount  to  a  base 
and  fatal  prostitution,  causing  them  to 
be  ranked  with  the  apostate.  And  thus, 
upon  the  simple  principle  that  *•  all 
things  come  of  God,"  and  that  only  of 
his  own  can  they  give  him,  angels,  who 
are  vast  in  might,  and  brilliant  in  puri- 
ty, would  count  it  the  breaking  into  re- 
bellion to  entertain  the  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  merit ;  and  unless  you 
could  prove  to  them  that  God  had  given 
less  than  all,  that  there  were  abilities 
in  their  nature  which  they  had  derived 
from  sources  independent  on  Deity, 
and  that,  consequently,  their  duty  to- 
wards God  required  not  the  dedication 
of  every  iota  of  every  faculty ;  unless 
you  could  prove  to  them  this, — and 
you  might  prove  this,  when  you  could 
show  to  them  two  Gods,  two  Crea- 
tors, and  parcel  out  between  two  Al- 
mighties the  authorship  of  their  sur- 
passing endowments — you  would  make 
no  way  with  your  demonstration,  that 
it  was  possible  for  an  angel  to  deserve 
of  God.  You  might  accumulate  your 
arguments.  But  as  long  as  they  reached 
not  the  point  thus  marked  out,  still,  as 
the  shining  and  potent  beings  came  in 
from  the  execution  of  lofty  commis- 
sions, and  poured  into  the  treasury  of 
their  Maker  the  noble  contributions  of 
his  accomplisned  purposes,  oh,  they 
would  veil  their  faces,  and  bow  down 
in    lowliness,    and    confess  themselves 


38 


IMPOSSIBILITY  OF  CREATUEE-MERIT. 


unprofitable  ;  and  in  place  of  ground- 
ing a  claim  on  the  employment  of  their 
energies  in  the  service  of  Jehovah,  re- 
verently declare  that  the  non-employ- 
ment would  have  deserved  the  fire  and 
the  rack  ;  so  that,  throwing  from  them 
as  impious  the  notion  of  merit,  they 
would  roll  this  chorus  through  the 
heavenly  Temple,  "  all  things  come  of 
thee,  and  of  thine  own,  O  God,  have 
we  given  thee." 

Now  if  we  bring  down  our  inquiry 
from  the  higher  orders  of  intelligence 
to  the  lower,  we-,  of  course,  carry  with 
us  the  proof  which  has  been  advanced 
of  the  impossibility  of  merit.  If  we 
pass  from  the  case  of  angels  to  that  of 
men,  we  may  fairly  apply  the  results 
of  our  foregoing  argument,  and  consi- 
der the  one  case  as  involved  in  the 
other.  It  will  hardly  be  disputed,  that, 
if  creatureship  exclude  the  possibility 
of  merit  from  amongst  angels,  it  must 
also  exclude  it  from  amongst  men.  We 
argue  not,  indeed,  that  merit  is  more 
out  of  the  reach  of  one  rank  of  beings 
than  of  another.  We  simply  contend 
that  with  every  rank  of  being  merit  is 
an  impossibility;  but,  since  a  thing 
cannot  be  more  than  impossible,  we,  of 
course,  do  not  speak  of  degrees  of  im- 
possibility. And  yet,  undoubtedly,  there 
is  a  sense  in  which  an  angel  comes 
nearer  merit  than  a  man.  An  angel 
falls  not  short  of  duty,  though  it  cannot 
exceed  ;  and,  therefore,  it  deserves  no- 
thing, neither  wrath  nor  reward.  A 
man,  on  the  contrary,  falls  short  of 
duty,  and,  therefore  deserves  wrath ; 
though,  even  if  he  fell  not  short,  he 
could  not  exceed,  and,  therefore,  could 
not  deserve  reward.  So  that  the  angel 
goes  further  than  the  man.  The  angel 
fulfils  duty,  but  cannot  overstep.  The 
man  leaves  a  vast  deal  undone  which 
he  is  required  to  do ;  and  he  must,  at 
least,  make  up  deficiencies,  before  he 
can  think  of  an  overplus.  We  may  con- 
sider, then,  that  in  proving  the  impossi- 
bility of  creature-merit,  when  the  crea- 
ture is  angelic,  we  have  equally  proved 
it,  when  the  creature  is  human.  And 
thus  Heaven  would  have  been  as  much 
a  free-gift  to  Adam,  had  he  never  diso- 
beyed by  eating  of  the  fruit,  as  it  now 
is  to  the  vilest  of  his  descendants,  with 
the  treason-banner  in  his  hand,  and  the 
leprosy  spot  on  his  forehead.  Had 
Adam    walked    unflinchingly    through 


his  probation-time,  spuming  back  the 
tempter,  and  swerving  not  an  iota  from 
loyalty  and  love ;  and  had  he  then  ap- 
peared befijre  his  Maker,  exclaiming, 
now,  O  God,  I  have  deserved  immorta- 
lity ;  why,  this  very  speech  would,  have 
been  the  death-knell  of  our  creation  ; 
and  Adam  would  as  actually  have  fallen, 
and  as  actually  have  sent  down  the  dark 
bequeathments  of  a  curse  to  his  latest 
posterity,  by  pretending  to  have  merit- 
ed because  he  had  obeyed,  as  now  that 
he  led  the  van  in  rebellion,  and,  break- 
ing a  positive  law,  dislocated  the  happi- 
ness of  a  countless  population. 

We  thus  consider  that  the  impossi- 
bility of  human  merit  follows,  as  a  co- 
rollary, on  our  demonstration  of  the 
impossibility  of  angelic.  But  we  shall 
not  content  ourselves  with  inferring 
the  one  case  from  the  other.  Feeling 
deeply  the  importance  of  your  under- 
standing thoroughly  why  you  cannot 
merit  of  God,  we  shall  apply  briefly  our 
text  to  the  commonly-presumed  instan- 
ces of  human  desert. 

You  will  find  one  man  thinking,  that, 
if  he  repent,  he  shall  be  pardoned.  In 
other  words,  he  supposes  that  there  is 
a  virtue  in  repentance  which  causes  it 
to  procure  forgiveness.  Thus  repent- 
ance is  exhibited  as  meritorious ;  and 
how  shall  we  simply  prove  that  it  is 
not  meritorious  ]  Why,  allowing  that 
man  can  repent  of  himself — which  he 
cannot — what  is  the  repentance  on 
which  he  presumes  %  What  is  there  in 
it  of  his  own  %  The  tears  %  they  are 
but  the  dew  of  an  eye  which  is  God's. 
The  sighs  %  they  are  but  the  heavings 
of  a  heart  which  is  God's.  The  resolu- 
tions %  they  are  but  the  workings  of 
faculties  which  are  God's.  The  amend- 
ment %  it  is  but  the  better  employment 
of  a  life  which  is  God's.  Where  then 
is  the  merit  %  O,  find  something  which 
is,  at  the  same  time,  human  and  excel- 
lent in  the  offering,  and  you  may  speak 
of  desert.  But  until  then,  away  with 
the  notion  of  there  being  merit  in  re- 
pentance, seeing  that  the  penitent  man 
must  say,  "All  things  come  of  thee, 
and  of  thine  own,  O  God,  do  I  give 
thee." 

Again  :  some  men  will  speak  of  being 
justified  by  faith,  till  they  come  to  as- 
cribe merit  to  faith.  "  By  faith,"  is  in- 
terpreted as  though  it  meant,  on  ac- 
count   of  faith ;    and    thus    the    great 


IMPOSSIBILITY    OF    CREATURE-MERIT. 


39 


'truth  is  lost  sight  of,  that  we  are  justi- 
fied freely  "  through  the  redemption 
that  is  in  Christ."  Romans,  3  :  24.  But 
how  can  faith  be  a  meritoiious  act  ] 
What  is  faith  but  such  an  assent  of  the 
understanding  to  God's  word  as  binds 
the  heart  to  God's  service  1  And  whose 
is  the  understanding,  if  it  be  not  God's  1 
Whose  is  the  heart,  if  it  be  not  God's  1 
And  if  faith  be  nothing  but  the  render- 
ing to  God  that  intellect,  and  that  en- 
ergy, which  we  have  received  from 
God,  how  can  faith  deserve  of  God  1 
Oh,  as  with  repentance,  so  with  faith ; 
away  with  the  notion  of  merit.  He  who 
believes,  so  that  he  can  dare  the  grave, 
and  grasp  eternity,  must  pour  forth  the 
confession,  "  all  things  come  of  thee, 
and  of  thine  own,  O  God,  do  I  give 
thee." 

And  once  more :  what  merit  can 
there  be  in  works  1  If  you  give  much 
alms,  whose  is  the  money  ?  "  The  sil- 
ver is  mine,  and  the  gold  is  mine,  saith 
the  Lord  of  Hosts."  Haggai,  2  :  8.  If 
you  mortify  the  body,  whose  are  the 
macerated  limbs  1  If  you  put  sackcloth 
on  the  soul,  whose  is  the  chastened  spi- 
rit 1  If  you  be  moral,  and  honest,  and 
friendly,  and  generous,  and  patriotic, 
whose  are  the  dispositions  which  you 
exercise,  whose  the  powers  to  which 
you  give  culture  and  scope  ]  And  if 
you  only  use  God's  gifts,  can  that  be 
meritorious  1  You  may  say,  yes — it  is 
meritorious  to  use  them  aright,  whilst 
others  abuse  them.  But  is  it  wicked- 
ness to  abuse  1  Then  it  can  only  be 
duty  to  use  aright ;  and  duty  will  be 
merit  when  debt  is  donation.  You  may 
bestow  a  fortune  in  charity;  but  the 
wealth  is  already  the  Lord's.  You  may 
cultivate  the  virtues  which  adoni  and 
sweeten  human  life  ;  but  the  employed 
powers  are  the  Lord's.  You  may  give 
time  and  strength  to  the  enterprises 
of  philanthropy  ;  each  moment  is  the 
Lord's,  each  sinew  is  the  Lord's.  You 
may  be  upright  in  every  dealing  of 
trade,  scrupulously  honourable  in  all  the 
intercourses  of  life  ;  but  "  a  just  weight 
and  balance  are  the  Lord's,  all  the 
weights  of  the  bag  are  his  work."  Prov. 
16  :  11.  And  where  then  is  the  merit  of 
works  1  Oh,  throw  into  one  heap  each 
power  of  the  mind,  each  energy  of  the 
body  ;  use  in  God's  service  each  giain 
of  your  substance,  each  second  of  your 
time  ;  give  to  the  Almighty  every  throb 


of  the  pulse,  every  drawing  of  the 
breath  ;  labor  and  strive,  and  be  instant, 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  and  let  the 
steepness  of  the  mountain  daunt  you 
not,  and  the  swellings  of  the  ocean  de- 
ter you  not,  and  the  mggedness  of  the 
desert  appal  you  not,  but  on,  still  on, 
in  toiling  for  your  Maker ;  and  dream, 
and  talk,  and  boast  of  merit,  when  you 
can  find  the  particle  in  the  heap,  or  the 
shred  in  the  exploit,  which  you  may  ex- 
clude from  the  confession,  "  all  things 
come  of  thee,  and  of  thine  own,  O  God, 
have  I  given  thee." 

Now  we  would  tmst  that  the  impos- 
sibility of  creature-merit  has  thus  been 
established  as  an  inference  from  the 
statement  of  our  text.  We  wish  you 
thoroughly  to  perceive  that  merit  is  in- 
consistent with  creature-ship.  We  do 
not  merely  prove  that  this,  or  that,  or- 
der of  being  cannot  merit.  Merit  is  in- 
consistent with  creatureship.  A  crea- 
ture meriting  of  the  Creator  is  an  im- 
possibility. When  the  archangel  can 
merit,  the  worm  may  merit.  And  he 
alone  who  is  independent ;  he  who  has 
received  nothing ;  he  who  is  every  thing 
to  himself,  as  well  as  every  thing  to  the 
universe,  his  own  fountain  of  existence, 
his  own  storehouse  of  happiness,  his 
own  harvest  of  glory ;  God  alone  can 
merit,  and,  therefore,  God  alone  could 
redeem. 

We  have  now  only,  in  conclusion,  to 
ask,  whether  you  will  keep  back  from 
God  what  is  strictly  his  own  ?  Will  ye 
rob  God,  and  pawn  his  time,  and  his  ta- 
lents, and  his  strength  with  the  world  % 
Will  ye  refuse  him  what,  though  it  can- 
not be  given  with  merit,  cannot  be  de- 
nied without  ruin  %  He  asks  your  heart ; 
give  it  him ;  it  is  his  own.  He  asks  your 
intellect ;  give  it  him ;  it  is  his  own. 
He  asks  your  money  ;  give  it  him  ;  it  is 
his  own.  Remember  the  words  of  the 
apostle,  "  Ye  are  not  your  own ;  ye  are 
bought  with  a  price."  2  Cor.  6  :  20.  Ye 
are  not  your  own.  Ye  are  bought  even 
if  ye  perish.  Your  bodies  are  not  your 
own,  though  you  may  enslave  them  to 
lust;  they  are  God's,  to  be  tlirown  to 
the  rack.  Your  souls  are  not  your  own, 
though  you  may  hide,  and  tarnish,  and 
degrade  their  immortality ;  they  are 
God's,  to  be  chained  down  to  the  rock, 
that  the  waves  of  wi-ath  may  dash  and 
break  over  them.  Oh,  we  want  you ; 
nay,  the  spirits  of  the  just  want  you; 


40 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


and  the  holy  angels  want  you :  and  the 
Father,  and  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  want  you ;  all  but  the  devil  and 
ruined  souls  want  you,  to  leave  off  de- 
frauding the  Almighty,  and  to  give  him 
his  own,  themselves,  his  by  creation,  his 
doubly  by  redemption.  I  must  give  God 
ithe  body,  I  must  g^ve  God  the  soul.  I 
give  him  the  body,  if  I  clothe  the  tongue 
with  his  praises  ;  if  I  yield  not  my  mem- 
bers as  instruments  of  unrighteousness ; 
if  I  suffer  not  the  fires  of  unhallowed 
passion  to  light  up  mine  eye,  nor  the 
vampire  of  envy  to  suck  the  color  from 
my  cheek ;  if  I  profane  not  my  hands 
with  the  gains  of  ungodliness ;  if  I  turn 
away  mine  ear  from  the  scoffer,  and 
keep  under  every  appetite,  and  wrestle 
with  every  lust ;  making  it  palpable  that 


I  consider  each  limb  as  not  destined  to 
corruption,  but  intended  for  illustrious 
service,  when,  at  the  trumpet-blast  of 
the  resurrection,  the  earth's  sepulchres 
shall  be  riven.  And  I  give  God  the  soul, 
when  the  understanding  is  reverently 
turned  on  the  investigations  of  celestial 
truth  ;  when  the  will  is  reduced  to  meek 
compliance  with  the  Divine  will ;  and 
when  all  the  affections  move  so  harmo- 
niously with  the  Lord's  that  they  fasten 
on  the  objects  which  occupy  his.  This 
it  is  to  give  God  his  own.  O  God  !  "  all 
things  come  of  thee."  The  will  to  pre- 
sent ourselves  must  come  of  thee.  Grant 
that  will  unto  all  of  us,  that  we  may  con- 
secrate unreservedly  every  thing  to  thy 
service,  and  yet  humbly  confess  that  of 
thine  own  alone  do  we  give  thee. 


SERMON  IV. 


THE   HUMILIATION  OF    THE    MAN   CHRIST  JESUS.* 


"  And  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  be  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the 

cross." — Philippians,  iL  8. 


We  have  been  spared  to  reach  once 
more  that  solemn  season  at  which  our 
Church  directs  specially  our  attention 
to  the  sufferings  and  death  of  the  Re- 
deemer. There  can  never,  indeed,  be 
the  time  at  which  the  contemplation  of 
the  offering-up  of  our  great  high  priest 
is  at  all  out  of  place.  Knowing  the  foun- 
dation of  every  hope,  our  thoughts 
should  be  continually  on  that  substitu- 
tion of  the  innocent  for  the  guilty  which 
wus  made  upon  Calvary,  when  he  "  who 
did  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in 
his   mouth,"!  Peter,    2:  22,"  bare   our 


sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree."  1  Pet. 
2  :  24.  It  is  still,  however,  most  true, 
that  the  preaching  Christ  Jesus  and  him 
crucified,  requires  not,  as  it  consists  not 
in,  the  perpetual  recurrence  to  the  slay- 
ing of  our  surety.  The  preaching  of  the 
cross  is  not,  necessarily,  that  preaching 
which  makes  most  frequent  mention  of 
the  cross.  That  is  the  preaching  of  the 
cross,  and  that  is  the  preaching  of  Christ, 
which  makes  the  crucifixion  of  the  Son 
of  God  its  groundwork ;  which  offers 
no  mercy,  and  exhorts  to  no  duty,  but 
on  the  distinct   understanding  that  no 


"  1  am  indebted  to  Bishop  Sherlock  for  much  assistance  in  handling  this  and  the  following 
sabject. 


THE  HUMILIATION   OF  THE   MAN   CHRIST  JESUS. 


41 


mercy  could  be  obtained,  had  not  a  Me- 
diator purchased  it ;  no  duty  performed, 
had  he  not  gained  for  us  the  power. 
But  when  the  groundwork  has  been  tho- 
roughly laid,  then,  though  it  behooves  us 
occasionally  to  refer  to  first  principles, 
and  to  examine  over  again  the  strength 
of  our  basis,  it  is  certainly  not  our  busi- 
ness to  insist  continually  on  the  presen- 
tation of  sacrifice;  just  as  if,  this  one 
article  received,  the  whole  were  mas- 
tered of  the  creed  of  a  christian. 

For  nothing  do  we  more  admire  the 
services  of  our  Church,  than  for  the 
carefulness  displayed  that  there  be  no 
losing  sight  of  the  leading  doctrines  of 
the  faith.  It  may  be  said  of  the  Clergy 
of  the  Church  of  England,  that  they  are 
almost  compelled  by  the  Almanac,  if  not 
by  a  sense  of  the  high  duties  of  their 
calling,  to  bring  successively  before 
their  congregations  the  prominent  arti- 
cles of  Christianity.  It  is  not  left  to 
their  own  option,  as  it  comparatively 
would  be  if  they  were  not  fastened  to  a 
ritual,  to  pass  a  year  without  speaking 
of  the  Crucifixion,  the  Resurrection,  and 
Ascension  of  Christ,  of  the  Trinity  of 
persons  in  the  Godhead,  or  of  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Spirit.  If  they  be  dis- 
posed to  keep  any  of  these  matters  out 
of  their  discourses,  the  Collects  bring 
the  omitted  doctrines  before  the  people, 
and  convict  the  pastors  of  unfaithful- 
ness. A  dissenting  congregation  may 
go  on  for  years,  and  never  once  be  di- 
rected to  the  grand  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  in  Unity.  They  are  dependent 
on  their  minister.  He  may  advance 
what  he  chooses,  and  keep  back  what 
he  chooses ;  for  he  selects  his  own  les- 
sons, as  well  as  his  own  texts.  An  es- 
tablished congi-egation  is  not  thus  de- 
pendent on  its  minister.  He  may  be  an 
Unitarian  in  his  heart;  but  he  must  be 
80  far  a  Trinitarian  to  his  people  as  to 
declare  from  the  desk,  even  if  he  keep 
silence  in  the  pulpit,  that  "  the  Catholic 
faith  is  this,  that  we  worship  one  God 
in  Trinity,  and  Trinity  in  Unity."*  And 
thus,  whatever  the  objections  which 
may  be  urged  against  forms  of  prayer, 
we  cannot  Isut  think  that  a  country  with- 
out a  liturgy  is  a  country  which  lies 
open  to  all  the  incursions  of  heresy. 

We  obey,  then,  with  thankfulness,  the 


appointment  of  our  Church,  which  turns 
our  thoughts  specially  at  particular 
times  on  particular  doctrines ;  not  at 
any  season  excluding  their  discussion, 
but  providing  that,  at  least  once  in  the 
year,  each  should  occupy  a  prominent 
place. 

We  would  lead  you,  therefore,  now 
to  the  survey  of  the  humiliation  of  the 
man  Christ  Jesus,  and  thus  take  a  step 
in  that  pilgrimage  to  Gethsemane  and 
Calvary  which,  at  the  present  time,  is 
enjoined  on  the  faithful. 

We  bring  before  you  a  verse  from  tho 
well-known  passage  of  Scripture  which 
forms  the  epistle  of  the  day,  and  which 
furnishes  some  of  our  strongest  argu- 
ments against  those  who  deny  the  di- 
vinity of  Christ.  It  cannot  well  be  dis- 
puted, whatever  the  devised  subterfuges 
for  avoiding  the  inferences,  that  St.  Paul 
speaks  of  the  Mediator  in  three  different 
states ;  a  state  of  glory,  when  he  was 
"  in  the  form  of  God ; '  a  state  of  hu- 
miliation, when  he  assumed  "  the  form 
of  a  servant ;  "  a  state  of  exaltation, 
when  there  was  "  given  him  a  name 
which  is  above  evei-y  name."  It  is  fur- 
ther evident,  that  the  state  of  glory 
preceded  the  state  of  humiliation ;  so 
that  Christ  must  have  pre-existed  in  the 
form  of  God,  and  not  have  begun  to 
exist  when  appearing  on  earth  in  the 
form  of  a  servant.  Indeed  the  apostle 
is  inculcating  humility,  and  enforcing 
his  exhortation  by  the  example  of  the 
Savior.  "  Let  this  mind  be  in  you  which 
was  also  in  Christ  Jesus."  You  can  re- 
quire no  proof  that  the  strength  of  this 
exhortation  lies  in  the  fact,  that  Christ 
displayed  a  vast  humility  in  consentinfr 
to  become  man  ;  and  that  it  were  to 
take  from  it  all  power,  and  all  meaning, 
to  suppose  him  nothing  more  than  a 
man.  It  is  surely  no  act  of  humility  to 
be  a  man ;  and  no  individual  can  set  an 
example  of  humility  by  the  mere  beino- 
a  man.  But  if  one  who  pre-exists  in  an- 
other rank  of  intelligence  become  a 
man,  then,  but  not  otherwise,  there 
may  be  humility,  and  consequently  ex- 
ample, in  his  manhood. 

We  can,  however,  only  suggest  these 
points  to  your  consideration,  desiring 
that  you  may  be  led  to  give  to  the 
whole  passage  that  attention  which  it 


*  Athanasian  Creed. 


42 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


singularly  deserves.  We  must  confine 
ourselves  to  the  single  verse  w^liich  we 
have  selected  as  our  text,  and  which,  in 
itself,  is  so  full  of  information  that  there 
may  be  difficulty  in  giving  to  each  part 
the  requisite  notice. 

The  verse  refers  to  the  Redeemer  in 
his  humiliation,  but  cannot,  as  we  shall 
find,  be  fairly  interpreted  without  taking 
for  granted  his  pre-existent  glory.  St. 
Paul,  you  observe,  speaks  of  Christ  as 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  and  as 
then  huniblmg  himself,  so  as  to  become 
*'  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death 
of  the  cross."  It  will  be  well  that  we 
advance  a  few  remarks  on  the  phrase 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  before  we 
consider  that  act  of  humility  here  as- 
cribed to  the  Savior. 

Now  the  true  humanity  of  the  Son 
of  God  is  as  fundamental  an  article  of 
Christianity  as  his  true  divinity.  You 
would  as  effectually  demolish  our  reli- 
gion by  proving  that  Christ  was  not  real 
man,  as  by  proving  that  Christ  was  not 
real  God.  We  must  have  a  mediator 
between  God  and  man;  and  "  a  media- 
tor is  not  a  mediator  of  one,"  Gal.  3  :  20, 
but  must  partake  of  the  nature  of  each. 
Shall  we  ever  hesitate  to  pronounce  it 
the  comforting  and  sustaining  thing  to 
the  followers  of  Christ,  that  the  Re- 
deemer is,  in  the  strictest  sense,  their 
kinsman  ]  We  may  often  be  required, 
in  the  exercise  of  the  office  of  an  am- 
bassador from  God,  to  set  ourselves 
a^^ainst  what  we  count  erroneous  doc- 
trines touching  the  humanity  of  the  Sa- 
vior. But  shall  it,  on  this  account,  be 
supposed  that  we  either  unden-ate,  or 
keep  out  of  sight,  this  mighty  truth  of 
Christianity,  that  the  Son  of  God  be- 
came as  truly,  and  as  literally,  man,  as 
I  myself  am  man.  We  cannot,  and  we 
will  not,  allow  that  there  was  in  him 
that  fountain  of  evil  which  there  is  in 
ourselves.  We  contend  that  the  ab- 
sence of  the  fountain,  and  not  the  mere 
prevention  of  the  outbreak  of  its  waters, 
is  indispensable  to  the  constitution  of 
such  purity  as  belonged  to  the  holy 
child  Jesus.  But  that  he  was  like  my- 
self in  all  points,  m)%jnfulness  only  ex- 
cepted; that  his  fles"h,'like  mine,  could 
be  lacerated  by  stripes,  wasted  by  hun- 
ger, and  torn  by  nails  ;  that  his  soul, 
like  mine,  could  be  assaulted  by  temp- 
tation, Jiarassed  by  Satan,  and  disquiet- 
ed under  the  hidings  of  the  countenance 


of  the  Father ;  that  he  could  suffer  eve- 
ry thing  which  I  can  suffer,  except  the 
remorse  of  a  guilty  conscience  ;  that 
he  could  weep  every  tear  which  I  can 
weep,  except  the  tear  of  repentance ; 
that  he  could  fear  with  every  fear,  hope 
with  every  hope,  and  joy  with  every 
joy,  which  I  may  entertain  as  a  man, 
and  not  be  ashamed  of  as  a  Christian; 
there  is  our  creed  on  the  humanity  of 
the  Mediator.  If  you  could  once  prove 
that  Christ  was  not  perfect  man — bear- 
ing always  in  mind  that  sinfulness  is 
not  essential  to  this  pei-fectness — there 
would  be  nothing  worth  battling  for  in 
the  truth  that  Christ  was  perfect  God : 
the  only  Redeemer  who  can  redeem, 
like  the  Goel  under  the  law,  my  lost 
heiitage,  being  necessarily  my  kins- 
man ;  and  none  being  my  kinsman  who 
is  not  of  the  same  nature,  born  of  a  wo- 
man, of  the  substance  of  that  woman, 
my  brother  in  all  but  rebellion,  myself 
in  all  but  unholiness. 

We  are  bound,  therefore,  to  examine, 
with  all  care,  expressions  which  refer 
to  the  humanity  of  the  Savior,  and  es- 
pecially those  which  may  carry  the  ap- 
pearance of  impugning  its  reality.  Now 
it  is  remarkable,  and  could  not  be  with- 
out design,  that  St.  Paul  uses  words 
which  go  not  directly  to  the  fact  of 
the  reality  of  the  humanity,  but  which 
might  almost  be  thought  to  evade  that 
fact.  He  does  not  bx'oadly  and  roundly 
assert,  that  Christ  was  man.  He  takes 
what,  at  least,  may  be  called  a  circuit- 
ous method,  and  uses  three  expressions, 
all  similar,  but  none  direct.  "  Took  up- 
on him  the  form  of  a  servant."  "  Was 
made  in  the  likeness  of  men."  "  Being 
found  in  fashion  as  a  man."  There  must, 
we  say,  have  been  some  weighty  reason 
with  the  apostle  why  he  should,  as  it 
were,  have  avoided  the  distinct  men- 
tion of  Christ's  manhood,  and  have  em- 
ployed language  which,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, is  ambiguous.  Why  speak  of  the 
"  form  of  a  servant,"  or  the  "  likeness 
of  men,"  and  of  "  being  found  in  fashion 
as  a  man,"  when  he  wished  to  convey 
the  idea  that  Christ  was  actually  a  ser- 
vant, and  literally  a  man  % 

We  will,  first  of  all,  show  you  that 
these  expi'cssions,  however  apparently 
vague  and  indefinite,  could  never  have 
been  intended  to  bring  into  question  the 
reality  of  Christ's  humility.  The  apos- 
tle employs  precisely  the  same  kind  of 


THE  HUMILIATION  OP  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


#? 


language  m  reference  to  Christ's  divi- 
nity. He  had  before  said  of  the  Savior, 
"  who  being  in  the  form  of  God''  If  then 
"  the  likeness  of  men,"  or  "  the  form  of 
a  servant,"  implied  that  Christ  was  not 
really  man,  or  not  really  a  sei-vant,  "  the 
form  of  God"  would  imply  that  he  was 
not  really  God.  The  several  expi-es- 
Bions  must  have  a  similar  interpreta- 
tion. And  if,  therefore,  Christ  was  not 
really  man,  Christ  was  not  really  God; 
and  what  then  was  he  1  Neither  man, 
nor  God  is  a  conclusion  for  which  no 
heretic  is  prepared.  All  admit  that  he 
was  God  separately,  or  man  separately, 
or  God  and  man  conjointly.  And  there- 
fore the  expressions,  "  form  of  God," 
"  form  of  a  servant,"  must  mean  lite- 
rally God,  and  literally  a  servant ;  other- 
wise Christ  was  neither  divine  nor  hu- 
man, but  a  phantom  of  both,  and  tliere- 
fore  a  nothing.  So  that,  whatever  St. 
Paul's  reasons  for  employing  this  kind 
of  expression,  you  see  at  once  that, 
since  he  uses  it  alike,  whether  in  refer- 
ence to  the  connection  of  Christ  with 
divinity,  or  to  that  with  humanity,  it 
can  take  off  nothing  from  the  reality  of 
either  the  manhood  or  the  Godhead. 
If  it  took  from  one,  it  must  take  equally 
from  both.  And  thus  Christ  would  be 
left  without  any  subsistence — a  conclu- 
sion too  monstrous  for  that  most  credu- 
lous of  all  things — scepticism. 

We  are  certain,  therefore — inasmuch 
as  the  alternative  is  an  absurdity  which 
waits  not  for  refutation — that  when 
St.  Paul  asserts  of  Christ  that  he  was 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  he  intends 
nothing  at  variance  with  the  doctrine 
of  the  real  humanity  of  the  Savior.  He 
points  him  out  as  actually  man  ;  though, 
for  reasons  which  remain  to  be  investi- 
gated, he  adopts  the  phrase,  "  the  fa- 
shion of  a  man." 

Now  it  cannot,  we  think,  be  doubted 
that  an  opposition  is  designed  between 
the  expressions  "  in  the  form  of  God," 
and  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  and 
that  we  shall  understand  the  intent  of 
the  latter  only  through  possessing  our- 
selves of  that  of  the  former.  If  you  con- 
sult your  Bibles,  you  will  perceive  the 
representation  of  St.  Paul  to  be,  that  it 
was  "  the  form  of  God  "  of  which  Christ 
emptied  himself,  or  which  Christ  laid 
aside,  when  condescending  to  be  born 
of  a  woman.  "  Who  being  in  the  form 
of  God,   thought  it  not  robbery  to  be 


equal  with  God;  but  made  himself  of 
no  reputation,  (so  we  render  it,  but  li- 
terally it  is  '  emptied  himself,')  and 
took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant." 
It  was,  therefore,  "  the  form  of  God  " 
which  Christ  laid  aside.  He  was  still 
God,  and  could  not,  for  a  lonely  instant, 
cease  to  be  God.  But  he  did  not  appear 
as  God.  He  put  from  him,  or  he  veiled, 
those  effulgent  demonstrations  of  Deity 
which  had  commanded  the  homage,  and 
called  forth  the  admiration  of  the  celes- 
tial hierarchy.  And  though  he  was,  all 
the  while,  God,  God  as  truly,  and  as  ac- 
tually, as  when,  in  the  might  of  mani- 
fested Omnipotence,  he  filled  infinite 
space  with  glorious  masses  of  architec- 
ture, still  he  so  restrained  the  blazings 
of  Divinity  that  he  could  not,  in  the 
same  sense,  be  known  as  God,  but  want- 
ed the  form  whilst  retaining  the  essence. 
He  divested  himself,  then,  of  the  form 
of  God,  and  assumed,  in  its  stead,  the 
form  or  fashion  of  a  man.  Heretofore, 
he  had  both  been,  and  appeared  to  be 
God.  Now  he  was  God,  but  appeared 
as  a  man.  The  very  being  who  had  daz- 
zled the  heavenly  hosts  in  the  form  of 
God,  walked  the  earth  in  the  form  and 
fashion  of  a  man.  Such,  we  think,  is  a 
fair  account  of  the  particular  phrase- 
ology which  St.  Paul  employs.  The 
apostle  is  speaking  of  Christ  as  more 
than  man.  Had  Christ  been  only  man, 
how  preposterous  to  say  of  him,  that 
he  was  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man." 
What  other  fashion,  what  other  out- 
ward appearance,  can  a  mere  man  pre- 
sent, but  the  fashion,  the  outward  ap- 
pearance of  a  man  %  But  if  Christ  were 
God,  and  yet  appeared  as  man,  there  i.>j 
pei-fect  accuracy  in  the  statement  that 
he  was  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man;  " 
and  we  can  understand,  readily  cnougii, 
how  he  who  never  ceased,  and  could 
not  cease  to  be  God,  might,  at  one  time, 
manifest  divinity  in  the  form  of  God, 
and,  at  another,  shroud  that  divinity  in 
the  form  of  a  servant. 

We  would  pause  yet  a  moment  on 
this  point,  for  it  is  worth  your  closest 
attention.  We  are  told  that  Christ 
"  emptied  himself,"  so  that  "  though  he 
was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  he  became 
poor."  2  Cor.  8 :  9.  But  of  what  did  he 
empty  himself?-  Not  of  his  being,  not 
of  his  nature,  not  of  his  attributes.  It 
must  be  blasphemous  to  speak  of  pro- 
perties of  Godhead    as  laid    aside,  or 


^4 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


even  suspended.  But  Christ  "  emptied 
himself"  of  the  glories  and  the  majes- 
ties to  which  he  had  claim,  and  which, 
as  he  sat  on  the  throne  of  the  heavens, 
he  possessed  in  unmeasured  abundance. 
Whatsoever  he  was  as  to  nature  and 
essence,  whilst  appearing  amongst  the 
angels  in  the  form  of  God,  that  he  con- 
tinued to  be  still,  when,  in  the  fonn  of 
a  servant,  he  walked  the  scenes  of  hu- 
man habitation.  But  then  the  glories  of 
the  form  of  God,  these  for  a  while  he 
altogether  abandoned.  If  indeed  he  had 
appeared  upon  earth — as,  according  to 
the  dignity  of  his  nature,  he  had  right 
to  appear — in  the  majesty  and  glory  of 
the  Highest,  it  might  be  hard  to  under- 
stand what  riches  had  been  lost  by  di- 
vinity. The  scene  of  display  would 
have  been  changed.  But  the  splendor 
of  display  being  unshorn  and  undimin- 
ished, the  armies  of  the  sky  might  have 
rongi-egated  round  the  Mediator,  and 
have  given  in  their  full  tale  of  homage 
and  admiration.  But,  oh,  it  was  poverty 
that  the  Creator  should  be  moving  on 
a  province  of  his  own  empire,  and  yet 
not  be  recognized  nor  confessed  by  his 
creatui'es.  It  was  poverty  that,  when 
he  walked  amongst  men,  scattering 
blessings  as  he  trode,  the  anthem  of 
praise  boated  not  around  him,  and  the 
air  was  often  burdened  vdth  the  curse 
and  the  blasphemy.  It  was  poverty  that, 
as  he  passed  to  and.  fro  through  tribes 
whom  he  had  made,  and  whom  he  had 
come  down  to  redeem,  scarce  a  soli- 
tary voice  called  him  blessed,  scarce 
a  solitary  hand  was  stretched  out  in 
friendship,  and  scarce  a  solitary  roof 
ever  proffered  him  shelter.  And  when 
you  contrast  this  deep  and  desolate  po- 
verty with  that  exuberant  wealth  which 
had  been  always  his  own,  whilst  heaven 
continued  the  scene  of  his  manifesta- 
tions— the  wealth  of  the  anthem-peal 
of  ecstasy  from  a  million  rich  voices, 
and  of  the  solemn  bowing  down  of 
sparkling  multitudes,  and  of  the  glow- 
ing homage  of  immortal  hierarchies, 
whensoever  he  showed  forth  his  power 
or  his  purposes — ye  cannot  fail  to  per- 
ceive that,  in  taking  upon  him  flesh,  the 
Eternal  Son  descended,  most  literally, 
from  abundance  to  want ;  and  that, 
though  he  continued  just  as  mighty  as 
before,  just  as  infinitely  gifted  with  all 
the  stores  and  resources  of  essential  di- 
vinity, the  transition  was  so  total,  from 


the  reaping-in  of  glory  from  the  whol«r 
field  o'i  the  universe  to  the  receivings 
comparatively,  nothing  of  his  revenues 
of  honor,  that  we  may  assert,  without 
reserve,  and  without  figure,  that  he 
who  was  rich,  for  our  sakes  became 
poor.  "  In  the  form  of  God,"  he  had 
acted  as  it  were,  visibly,  amid  the  en- 
raptured plaudits  of  angel  and  arch- 
angel, cherubim  and  seraphim.  But 
now,  in  the  form  of  man,  he  must  be 
withdrawn  from  the  delighted  inspec- 
tions of  the  occupants  of  heaven,  and 
act,  as  powerfully  indeed  as  before,  but 
mysteriously  and  invisibly,  behind  a 
dark  curtain  of  flesh,  and  on  the  dreary 
platform  of  a  sin-burdened  territory. 
So  that  the  antithesis,  "  the  form  of 
God,"  and  "  found  in  fashion  as  a  man," 
marks  accurately  the  change  to  which 
the  Mediator  submitted.  And  thus, 
whilst  on  our  former  showings,  there  is 
no  impeachment,  in  the  phrase,  of  the 
reality  of  Christ's  humanity,  we  now 
exract  from  the  description  a  clear 
witness  to  the  divinity  of  Jesus,  and 
show  you  that  a  form  of  speech  which 
seems,  at  first  sight,  vague  and  indefi- 
nite, was,  if  not  rendered  unavoidable, 
yet  readily  dictated,  by  the  union  of 
natures  in  the  person  of  the  Redeemer. 

But  we  will  now  pass  on  to  consider 
that  act  of  humility  which  is  ascribed 
in  our  text  to  Christ  Jesus.  "  Being 
found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  liumhltJ. 
himself,  and  became  obedient  unto 
death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross." 

Now  we  would  have  it  observed — for 
some  of  the  greatest  truths  in  theology 
depend  on  the  fact — that  the  apostle  is 
here  speaking  of  what  Christ  did  after 
he  had  assumed  humanity,  and  not  oi 
what  he  did  in  assuming  humanity. 
There  was  an  act  of  humiliation,  such 
as  mortal  thought  cannot  compass,  in 
the  conjing  dawn  of  Deity,  and  his 
tabernacling  in  flesh.  We  may  well  ex- 
claim, wonder,  O  heavens,  and  be  aston- 
ished, O  earth,  when  we  remember  that 
He  whom  the  universe  cannot  contain, 
did,  literally,  condescend  to  circum- 
scribe himself  within  the  fonn  of  a  ser- 
vant ;  and  that  in  no  figure  of  speech, 
but  in  absolute,  though  mysterious  re- 
ality, "  the  Word  was  made  flesh,"  St. 
John,  1  :  14,  and  the  So'U  of  the  High- 
est born  of  a  pure  virgin.  We  shall 
never  find  terms  in  which  to  embody 
even  our  own  conceptions  of  this  un- 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


45 


measured  humiliation  ;  whilst  these  con- 
ceptions themselves  leave  altogether 
unapproached  the  boundai-y  lines  of  the 
wonder.  Who  can  "  by  searching  find 
out  God  1  "  Job,  11:7.  Who,  then,  by 
striving  can  calculate  the  abasement 
that  God  should  become  man  1  If  I 
could  climb  to  Deity,  I  might  know 
what  it  was  for  Deity  to  descend  into 
dust.  But  forasmuch  as  God  is  inac- 
cessible to  all  my  soarings,  it  can  never 
come  within  the  compass  of  iriy  imagi- 
nation to  tell  up  the  amount  of  conde- 
scension ;  and  it  will  always  remain  a 
prodigy,  too  large  for  every  thing  but 
faith,  that  the  Creator  coalesced  with  the 
creature,  and  so  constituted  a  mediator. 

But  it  is  not  to  this  act  of  humilia- 
tion that  our  text  bears  reference.  This 
was  the  humiliation  in  the  assumption 
of  humanity.  But  after  humanity  had 
been  assumed,  when  Christ  was  "  found 
in  fashion  as  a  man,"  he  yet  further 
humbled  himself;  so  that,  over  and 
above  the  humiliation  as  God,  there 
was  an  humiliation  as  man.  And  it  is  on 
this  fact  that  we  would  fasten  your  at- 
tention. You  are  to  view  the  Son  of 
God  as  havinsf  brouofht  himself  down 
to  the  level  of  humanity,  as  having  laid 
aside  his  dignities,  and  taken  part  of 
the  flesh  and  the  blood  of  those  whom 
he  yearned  to  redeem.  But  then  you 
are  not  to  consider  that  the  humiliation 
ended  here.  You  are  not  to  suppose 
that  whatsoever  came  after  was  Avound 
up,  so  to  speak,  in  the  original  humilia- 
tion, and  thus  was  nothing  more  than 
its  fuller  developement.  God  humbled 
himself,  and  became  man.  But  there 
was  yet  a  lower  depth  to  whi-ch  this 
first  humiliation  did  not  necessarily 
carry  him.  "  Being  found  in  fashion  as 
a  man,  he  hu?nblcd  himself." 

The  apostle  does  not  leave  us  to  con- 
jecture in  what  this  second  humiliation 
mainly  consisted.  He  represents  it  as 
submission  to  death,  "  even  the  death 
of  the  cross."  So  that,  after  becom- 
ing man,  it  was  "humbling  himself"  to 
yield  to  that  sentence  from  which  no  man 
is  exempted.  It  was  "  humbling  him- 
self," to  die  at  all ;  it  was  "  humbling 
himself"  still  more,  to  die  ignominiously. 

We  will  examine  successively  these 
statements,  and  the  conclusions  to 
which  they  naturally  lead. 

It  was  humility  in  Christ  to  die  at 
all.  Who  then  was  this  mysterious  man 


of  whom  it  can  be  said  that  he  humbled 
himself  in  dying  1  Who  can  that  man 
be,  in  whom  that  was  humility  which, 
in  othei-s,  is  necessity  1  Has  there  ever 
been  the  individual  amongst  the  natu- 
ral descendants  of  Adam,  however  rare 
his  endowments  or  splendid  his  achieve- 
ments, however  illustrious  by  the  might 
of  heroism,  or  endeared  by  the  warmth 
of  philanthropy,  of  whom  we  could  say 
that  it  was  humility  in  him  to  die  1  It 
were  as  just  to  say  that  it  was  humility 
in  him  to  have  had  only  five  senses,  as 
that  it  was  humility  in  him  to  die.  The 
most  exalted  piety,  the  nearest  ap- 
proaches to  perfection  of  character,  the 
widest  distances  between  himself  and 
all  others  of  the  race ;  these,  and  a 
hundred  the  like  reasons,  would  never 
induce  us  to  give  harborage,  for  an  in- 
stant, to  the  thought  that  a  man  stood 
exempt  from  the  lot  of  humanity,  or 
that  it  was  left,  in  any  sense,  to  his 
option  whether  or  no  he  would  diev 
And,  therefore,  if  there  be  a  strong  me- 
thod of  marking  off  a  man  from  the 
crowd  of  the  huma,n  species,  andof  dis- 
tintjuishino^  him  fi-om  all  who  bear  the 
same  outward  appearance,  in  some 
mightier  respects  than  those  of  a  men- 
tal or  moral  superiority,  is  it  not  the 
ascribing  to  him  what  we  may  call  a 
lordship  over  life,  or  the  representing 
him  as  so  literally  at  liberty  to  live,  that 
it  shall  be  humility  in  him  to  die  1  We 
hold  it  for  an  incontrovertible  truth, 
that,  had  St.  Paul  said  nothing  of  the 
pre-exislent  glory  of  our  Mediator, 
there  Would  have  been  enough  in  the 
expression  of  our  text  to  satisfy  vmpre- 
judiced  minds  that  a  mere  man,  such 
as  one  of  ourselves,  could  be  no  just 
description  of  the  Lord  Christ  Jesus. 
If  it  were  himiility  in  the  man  to  die, 
there  must  have  been  a  power  in  the 
man  of  refusing  to  die.  If,  in  becoming 
"  obedient  unto  death,"  the  man  *'  hum- 
bled himself,"  there  can  be  no  debate 
that  his  dying  was  a  voluntary  act;  and 
that,  had  he  chosen  to  decline  submis- 
sion to  the  rending  asunder  of  soul  and 
body,  he  might  have  continued  to  this 
day,  unworn  by  disease,  unbroken  by 
age,  the  immortal  man,  the  indestruc- 
tible flesh.  We  can  gather  nothing  from 
such  form  of  expression,  but  that  it 
would  have  been  quite  possible  for  the 
Mediator  to  have  upheld,  through  long 
cycles,  undecayed  his  humanity,  and  to 


ih 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS, 


have  preserved  it  stanch  and  unbroken, 
whilst  generation  after  generation  rose, 
and  flourished,  and  fell.  He  in  whom  it 
was  humility  to  die,  must  have  been 
one  who  could  have  resisted,  through 
a  succession  of  ages,  the  approaches 
of  death,  and  thus  have  still  ti^odden 
our  earth,  the  child  of  centuries  past, 
the  heir  of  centuries  to  come. 

We  plead  for  it  as  a  most  simple  and 
necessary  deduction,  and  we  deny  alto- 
gether that  it  is  a  harsh  and  overstrain- 
ed inference,  from  the  fact  that  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  humbled  himself  in  dying, 
that  the  man  was  more  than  man,  and 
that  a  nature,  higher  than  human,  yea, 
even  divine,  belonged  to  his  person. 
We  can  advance  no  other  account  of 
such  an  act  of  humility.  If  you  were 
even  to  say  that  the  second  Adam  was, 
in  every  respect,  just  such  a  man  as  the 
first,  ere  evil  entered,  and,  with  it,  ob- 
noxiousness  to  death,  you  would  intro- 
duce greater  difficulties  than  the  one 
to  be  removed.  You  may  say  that  if, 
for  the  sake  of  winning  some  advantage 
to  his  posterity,  Adam,  whilst  yet  un- 
fallen,  and  therefore,  without  "  the  sen- 
tence of  death,"  2  Cor.  1 :2,  in  his  mem- 
bers, had  consented  to  die,  ho  would, 
strictly  speaking,  have  humbled  him- 
self in  dying;  and  that  consequent- 
ly Christ,  supposing  him  sinless  like 
Adam,  and  therefore,  under  no  necessir 
ty  of  death,  might  have  displayed  hu- 
mility in  consenting  to  die,  and  yet  not 
thereby  have  proved  himself  divine  as 
well  as  human.  We  are  not  disposed 
to  controvert  the  statement.  So  far  as 
we  can  judge — though  we  have  some 
jealousy  of  allowing  that  a  mere  crea- 
ture can  liumhle  himself  in  executing 
God's  work — it  may  be  true,  that,  had 
the  man  Christ  Jesus  been,  in  every  re- 
spect, similar  to  the  unfallen  Adam, 
there  might  have  been  humility  in  his 
dying,  and  yet  no  divinity  in  his  person. 

But  then  we  strenuously  set  our- 
selves against  such  a  false  and  perni- 
cious view  of  the  Savior's  humanity. 
We  will  admit  that  a  Papist,  but  we 
deny  that  a  Protestant  can,  without 
doing  utter  violence  to  his  creed,  main- 
tain that  in  every  respect  Christ  re- 
sembled the  unfallen  Adam.  The  Pa- 
pist entertains   extravagant  notions  of 


the  virgin-mother  of  our  Lord.  He  sup- 
poses her  to  have  been  immaculate, 
and  free  from  original  corruption.  The 
Protestant,  on  the  contrary,  withhold- 
ing not  from  Mary  due  honor  and  es- 
teem, classes  her,  in  every  sense, 
amongst  the  daughters  of  man,  and  be- 
lieves that,  whatever  her  superior  love- 
liness of  character,  she  had  her  full 
share  of  the  pollution  of  our  nature. 
Now  it  may  consist  well  enough  with 
the  Papist's  theory,  but  it  is  wholly  at 
variance  with  the  Protestant's,  to  sup- 
pose that  the  man  Jesus,  made  of  the 
substance  of  his  mother,  had  a  human- 
ity, like  that  of  Adam,  free  from  infir- 
mity as  well  as  fi'om  sinful  propensity. 
And  we  can  never  bring  up  the  human- 
ity of  Christ  into  exact  sameness  with 
the  humanity  of  Adam,  without  either 
overthrowing  the  fundamental  article 
of  faith,  that  the  Redeemer  was  the 
seed  of  the  woman,  or  ascribing  to  his 
mother  such  preternatural  purity  as 
makes  her  own  birth  as  mysterious  as 
her  son's. 

We  should  pause,  for  a  moment,  in 
our  argument,  and  speak  on  the  point 
of  the  Savior's  humanity.  We  are  told 
that  Christ's  humanity  was  in  every 
respect  the  same  as  our  own  humanity; 
fallen,  therefore,  as  ours  is  fallen.  But 
Christ,  as  not  being  one  of  the  natural 
descendants  of  Adam,  was  not  included 
in  the  covenant  made  with,  and  viola- 
ted by,  our  common  father.  Hence  his 
humanity  was  the  solitaiy  exception, 
the  only  humanity  which  became  not 
fallen  humanity,  as  a  consequence  on 
apostacy.  If  a  man  be  a  fallen  man,  he 
must  have  fallen  in  Adam ;  in  other 
words,  he  must  be  one  of  those  whom 
Adam  federally  represented.  But  Christ, 
as  being  emphatically  the  seed  of  the 
woman,  was  not  thus  federally  repre- 
sented ;  and  therefore  Christ  fell  not, 
as  we  fell  in  Adam.  He  had  not  been 
a  party  to  the  broken  covenant,  and  thus 
could  not  be  a  sharer  in  the  guilty  con- 
sequences of  the  infraction. 

But,  nevertheless,  while  we  argue 
that  Christ  was  not  what  is  tei-med  a 
fallen  man,  we  contend  that,  since 
"  made  of  a  woman,"  Galatians,  4  ;  4, 
he  was  as  truly  "  man,  of  the  substance 
of  his  mother,"  *   as  any  one  amongst 


*  Atbanasian  Creed. 


THE  HUMILIATION  OP  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


47 


ourselves,  the  weakest  and  most  sinful. 
He  was  "  made  of"  a  woman,"  and  not  a 
new  creation,  like  Adam  in  Paradise. 
When  we  say  that  Christ's  humanity 
was  unfallen,  we  are  far  enough  from 
saying  that  his  humanity  was  the  same 
as  that  of  Adam,  before  Adam  trans- 
gressed. He  took  humanity  with  all 
those  innocent  infirmities,  but  without 
any  of  those  sinful  propensities,  which 
the  fall  entailed.  There  are  consequen- 
ces on  guilt  which  are  perfectly  guilt- 
less. Sin  introduced  pain,  but  pain  it- 
self is  not  sin.  And  therefore  Christ, 
as  being  "  man,  of  the  substance  of  his 
mother,"  derived  from  her  a  suffering 
humanity;  but  as  "conceived  by  the 
Holy  Ghost,"*  he  did  not  derive  a 
sinful.  Fallen  humanity  denotes  a  hu- 
manity which  has  descended  from  a 
state  of  moral  purity  to  one  of  moral 
impurity.  And  so  long  as  there  has  not 
been  this  descent,  humanity  may  re- 
main unfallen,  and  yet  pass  from  physi- 
cal strength  to  physical  weakness..  This 
is  exactly  what  we  hold  on  the  humani- 
ty of  the  Son  of  God.  We  do  not  as- 
sert that  Christ's  humanity  was  the 
Adamic  humanity  ;  the  humanity,  that 
is,  of  Adam  whilst  still  loyal  to  Jeho- 
vah. Had  this  humanity  been  reprodu- 
ced, there  must  have  been  an  act  of 
creation ;  whereas,  beyond  controver- 
sy, Christ  was  "  made  of  a  woman," 
and  not  created,  like  Adam,  by  an  act 
of  omnipotence.  And  allowing  that 
Christ's  humanity  was  not  the  Adamic, 
of  course  we  allow  that  there  were  con- 
sequences of  the  fall  of  which  it  par- 
took. We  divide,  therefore,  these  con- 
sequences into  innocent  infirmities,  and 
sinful  propensities.  From  both  was 
Adam's  humanity  free  before,  and  with 
both  was  it  endowed  after,  transgres- 
sion. Hence  it  is  enough  to  have  ei- 
ther, and  the  humanity  is  bi-oadly  dis- 
tinguished from  the  Adamic.  Now 
Christ  took  humanity  with  the  inno- 
cent infirmities.  He  derived  humanity 
from  his  mother.  Bone  of  her  bone, 
and  flesh  of  her  flesh,  like  her  he  could 
hunger,  and  thirst,  and  weep,  and 
mourn,  and  writhe,  and  die.  But  whilst 
he  took  humanity  with  the  innocent 
infirmities,  he  did  not  take  it  with  the 
sinful  propensities.     Here  Deity  inter- 


posed. The  Holy  Ghost  overshadowed 
the  Virgin,  and,  allowing  weakness  to 
be  derived  from  her,  forbade  wicked- 
ness ;  and  so  caused  that  there  should 
be  generated  a  sorrowing  and  a  suffer- 
ing humanity,  but  nevertheless  an  un- 
defiled  and  a  spotless ;  a  humanity  with 
tears,  but  not  with  stains;  accessible 
to  anguish,  but  not  prone  to  offend; 
allied  most  closely  with  the  produced 
misery,  but  infinitely  removed  from  the 
producing  cause.  So  that  we  hold — 
and  we  give  it  you  as  what  we  believe 
the  orthodox  doctrine — that  Christ's 
humanity  was  not  the  Adamic  humani- 
ty, that  is,  the  humanity  of  Adam  be- 
fore the  fall ;  nor  fallen  humanity,  that 
is,  in  every  respect  the  humanity  of 
Adam  after  the  fall.  It  was  not  the  Ad- 
amic, because  it  had  the  innocent  infir- 
mities of  the  fallen.  It  was  not  the 
fallen,  because  it  had  never  descended 
into  moral  impurity.  It  was,  therefore, 
most  literally  our  humanity,  but  with- 
out sin.  "  Made  of  a  woman,"  Christ 
derived  all  from  his  mother  that  we 
derive,  except  sinfulness.  And  this  he 
derived  not,  because  Deity,  in  the  per- 
son of  the  Holy  Ghost,  interposed  be- 
tween the  child  and  the  pollution  of 
the  parent. 

But  we  now  recur  to  the  subject- 
matter  of  discussion.  We  may  consi- 
der our  position  untouched,  that  since 
a  man  "made  of  a  woman,"  humbled 
himself  in  dying,  he  must  have  had  an- 
other nature  which  gave  him  such  pow- 
er over  the  human,  that  he  might  either 
yield  to,  or  resist,  its  infirmities.  Christ 
took  our  nature  with  its  infirmities. 
And  to  die  is  one  of  these  infi.imities, 
just  as  it  is  to  hunger,  or  to  thirst,  or  to 
be  weary.  There  is  no  sin  in  dying.  It 
is,  indeed,  a  consequence  on  sin.  But 
consequences  may  be  endured  without 
share  in  the  cause ;  so  that  Christ 
could  take  flesh  which  had  in  it  a  ten- 
dency to  death,  but  no  tendency  to  sin. 
It  is  not  saying  that  Christ's  flesh  was 
sinful  like  our  own,  to  say  that  it  was 
corruptible  like  our  own.  There  might 
be  eradicated  all  the  tendencies  to  the 
doing  wrong,  and  still  be  left  all  the 
physical  entailments  of  the  wrong  done 
by  another.  And  no  man  can  read  the 
prophecy,    "thou    wilt    not    leave    my 


.Apostles'  Creed. 


48 


THE  HUMILIATION  OP  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


soul  in  hell,  neither  wilt  thou  suffer 
thine  Holy  One  to  see  corruption," 
Psalm  16  :  10,  without  perceiving  that 
there  was  no  natural  incorruptibility, 
and,  therefore,  no  natural  deathlessness 
in  the  flesh  of  Christ  Jesus  ;  for  if  the 
flesh  had  been  naturally  incorruptible, 
and,  therefore,  naturally  deathless,  how 
could  God  be  represented  as  providing 
that  this  flesh  should  not  remain  so 
long  in  the  grave  as  "  too  see  coiTup- 
tion  ?  "  The  prophecy  has  no  meaning, 
if  it  be  denied  that  Christ's  body  would 
have  coiTupted,  had  it  continued  in  the 
sepulchre. 

We  may  assert,  then,  that  in  Christ's 
humanity,  as  in  our  own,  there  was  a 
tendency  to  dissolution  ;   a  tendency  re- 
sulting from  entailed  infirmities  which 
were  innocent,  but  in  no  degree  from 
sinfulness,    whether    derived    or    con- 
tracted.    But  as   the  second  person    in 
/r~the  Trinity,  the  Lord  of  life  and  glory, 
■  Christ   Jesus    possessed    an    unlimited 
control  over  this  tendency,  and  might, 
had  he  pleased,  for  ever  have  suspend- 
ed, or  for  ever   have   counteracted   it. 
And  herein  lay  the  alleged  act  of  hu- 
mility. Christ  was  unquestionably  mor- 
tal ;  otherwise  it  is  most  clear  that  he 
could  not  have  died  at  all.     But  it  is  to 
the  full  as  unquestionable  that  he  must 
have    been    more    than   mortal ;   other- 
wise death  was  unavoidable  ;   and  where 
can    be  the  humility    of  submitting  to 
that  which  we  have  no  power  of  avoid- 
ing 1    As    mere    man,    he    was    mortal. 
But  then  as  God,  the  well-spring  of  life 
to  the  population   of  the   universe,  he 
could  forever   have    withstood    the  ad- 
vances of  death,  and  have  refused  it  do- 
minion in  his   own  divine  person.     But 
"he  humbled  himself."   In   order    that 
there  might  come  down  upon  him  the 
fulness   of  the  wrath-cup,   and  that  he 
might  exhaust  the  penalties  which  roll- 
ed, like  a  sea  of  fire,  between  earth  and 
heaven,  he  allowed  scope  to  that  liable- 
ness  to  death  which  he  might  for  ever 
have   arrested  ;   and   died,  not  through 
any   necessity,  but  through  the  act   of 
his    own    will ;  died,    inasmuch    as    his 
humanity  was  mortal ;  died  voluntarily, 
inasmuch  as  his  person  was  divine. 

And  this  was  humility.  If,  on  becom- 
ing man,  he  had  ceased  to  be  God, 
there  would  have  been  no  humility  in 
his  death.  He  would  only  have  submit- 
ted to  what  he  could  not  have  declin- 


ed. But  since,  on  becoming  what  he 
was  not,  he  ceased  not  to  be  what  he 
was,  he  brought  down  into  the  fashion 
of  man  all  the  life-giving  energies 
which  appertained  to  him  as  God ;  and 
he  stood  on  the  earth,  the  wondrous 
combination  of  two  natures  in  one  per- 
son ;  the  one  nature  infirm  and  tending 
to  decay,  the  other  self-existent,  and 
the  source  of  all  being  throughout  a 
crowded  immensity. 

And  the  one  nature  might  have  eter- 
nally kept  up  the  other ;  and,  with- 
standing the  inroads  of  disease,  and 
pouring  in  fresh  supplies  of  vitality,. 
have  given  undecaying  vigor  to  the 
mortal,  perpetual  youth  to  the  coriup- 
tible.  But  how  then  could  the  Scrip- 
tures have  been  fulfilled;  and  wheie 
would  have  been  the  expiation  for  the 
sins  of  a  burdened  and  groaning  crea- 
tion ]  It  was  an  act  of  humility — the 
tongue,  we  have  told  you,  cannot  ex- 
press it,  and  the  thought  cannot  com- 
pass it — that,  "  for  us  men  and  for  our 
salvation,"  the  Eternal  Word  consent- 
ed to  "  be  made  flesh."  God  became 
man.  It  was  stupendous  humility.  But 
he  was  not  yet  low  enough.  The  man 
must  humble  himself,  humble  himself 
even  unto  death  ;  for  "  without  shed- 
ding of  blood  is  no  remission."  He- 
brews, 9  :  22.  And  he  did  humble  him- 
self. Death  was  avoidable,  but  he  sub- 
mitted ;  the  grave  might  have  been 
overstepped,   but  he  entered. 

It  would  not  have  been  the  working 
out  of  human  redemption,  and  the  mil- 
lions with  whom  lie  had  entered  into 
brotherhood  would  have  remained  un- 
delivered from  their  thraldom  to  Satan, 
had  Ueity  simply  united  itself  to  hu- 
manity, and  then  upheld  humanity  so 
as  to  enable  it  to  defy  its  great  enemy, 
death.  There  lay  a  curse  on  the  earth's 
population,  and  he  who  would  be  their 
surety  must  do  more  than  take  their 
nature — he  must  carry  it  through  the 
darkness  and  the  fearfulness  of  the  real- 
ized malediction.  But  what  else  was 
this  but  a  fresh  act  of  humility,  a  new 
and  unlimited  stretch  of  condescen- 
sion] Even  whilst  on  earth,  and  cloth- 
ed round  with  human  flesh  and  blood, 
Christ  Jesus  was  still  that  great  "  I  am," 
who  sustains  "  ail  things  by  the  word 
of  his  power,"  Hebrews,  1  :  3,  and  out 
of  whose  fulness  every  rank  of  created 
intelligence  hath,  from  the   beginning, 


THE  HUMILIATION  OP  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


49 


drawn  the  elements  of  existence.     And 
therefore,  though  "  found  in  fashion  as 
a  man,"  he  was  all  along  infinitely  su- 
perior to    the   necessity  of  human  na- 
ture ;  and,  being  able  to  lay  down  life 
and  to  take  it  again   at  pleasure,  was 
only  subject    to  death    because    deter- 
mining to  die.     It  was  then  humility  to 
die.     It  was  the  voluntary  submission 
to  a  curse.     It  was  a  free-will  descent 
from    the    high    privilege    of   bearing 
on  humanity  through  the  falling   myri- 
ads of  successive    generations,  and  of 
strengthening  it  to  walk  as  the  denizen 
of  eternity,  whilst  there  went  forward 
unresisted,  on  the  right    hand    and  on 
the  left,  the  mowing-down  the  species. 
And  when,  therefore,  you    would    de- 
scribe the    humiliation    of   the  Son  of 
God,  think  not  that   you  have  opened 
the    depths    of   abasement,  when    you 
have  shown  him  exchanging  the  throne 
of  light,  and  the   glory  which    he  had 
with  the    Father,  for    a    tabernacle  of 
flesh,  and  companionship  with  the  re- 
bel. He  went  down  a  second  abyss,  we 
had  almost  said,  as  fathomless    as  the 
first.     From  heaven  to  earth,  who  shall 
measure  if?  But  when  on  earth,  when 
a  man,  there  was  the  whole  precipice 
of  God's  curse,  not  one  hair-breadth  of 
which  was  he  necessitated  to  descend. 
And  when,  therefore,  he  threw  himself 
over  this  precipice,  and   sank  into  the 
grave,  who  will  deny  that  there  was  a 
new  and  overwhelming  display  of  con- 
descension ;   that  there  was  performed 
by  the  God-man,  even  as  there  had  been 
by  the  God,  an  act  of  self-humiliation 
to  which  we  can  find  no  parallel ;   and 
that,    consequently,    "  being    found    in 
fashion  as  a  man,  Christ  Immhled  him- 
self, and  became  obedient  unto  death  1 " 
But  this  is  not  all.    You  have  not  yet 
completed  the  survey  of  the  Mediator's 
humiliation. 

It. was  wonderful  self-abasement  that 
he  should  choose  to  die.  But  the  man- 
ner of  the  death  makes  the  humility  a 
thousand  fold  more  apparent.  "  He  be- 
came obedient  unto  death,  even  the 
death  of  the  cross."  We  wish  it  observ- 
ed that  Christ  Jesus  was  not  insensible 
to  ignominy  and  disgrace.  He  submit- 
ted ;  but,  oh,  he  felt  acutely  and  bitter- 
ly. You  cannot  cause  a  sharper  pang  to 
an  ingenuous  and  upright  mind  than  by 
the  imputation  of  crime.  The  conscious- 
ness of  innocence  only   heightens    the 


smart.     It  is  the  guilty  man  who  cares 
only    for    the    being    condemned — the 
guiltless  is  pierced  through  and  through 
by  the  being  accused.     And  let  it  never 
be  thought  that  the    humanity  of   the 
Son  of  God,  holy  and    undefiled  as  it 
was,  possessed    not    this    sensitiveness 
to  disgrace.     "  Be  ye  come    out  as  a- 
gainst  a  thief,  with  swords  and  staves  %  " 
St.   Luke,  22  :  52,  was  a  remonstrance 
which  clearly  showed  that  he  felt  keen- 
ly the    shame  of    unjust  and    ruffianly 
treatment.     And  as  if  it  were  not  hu- 
miliation enough  to  die,  shall  he,  with 
all  this    sensitiveness    to    disgrace,  die 
the  death  which  was,  of  all  others,  ig- 
nominious 1  a  death  appropriated  to  the 
basest  condition  of  the  worst  men,  and 
unworthy  of  a  free  man,  whatever  the 
amount    of   his    guiltiness  1    Shall    the 
separation  of  soul  from  body  be  effect- 
ed   by    an    execution    to    which     none 
were  doomed  but  the  most  wretched  of 
slaves,  or  the  most    abandoned  of  mis- 
creants ;  by  a  punishment,  too  inhuman 
indeed  to  find  place  in  the  Jewish  code, 
but  the  nearest  approach  to  which,  the 
hanging  up   the  dead  bodies  of  crimi- 
nals, was  held  so  infamous  and  execra- 
ble,   that  the  fearful  phrase,  "  accui-sed 
by  God,"  was  applied  to   all  thus  sen- 
tenced and  used]  We  speak  of  nothing 
but  the  shame  of  the  cross  ;   for  it  was 
the  shame  which  gave  display  to  humi- 
lity. And  we  are  bold  to  say,  that,  after 
the  condescension  of  God  in  becoming 
man,    after   the    condescension   of   the 
God-man    in    consenting    to  die,  there 
was  an  act  of  condescension,  scarce  in- 
ferior to  the  others,  in  that  the  death 
was  "  the  death  of  the  cross. "  He  who 
humbled   himself  in  dying  at  all,  hum- 
bled himself  unspeakably  more  in  dying 
as   a  malefactor.     It  would  have  been 
humility  had  he  who  was  exempt  from 
the  necessity  of  our  nature   consented 
to  fall,  as  heroes  fall,  amid  the  tears  of 
a  grateful   people,  and  the  applauses  of 
an  admiring  world.  It  would  have  been 
humility  had  he  breathed  out  his  soul 
on   the   regal   couch,  and  far-spreading 
tribes    had   felt    themselves    orphaned. 
But  to  be  suspended   as  a  spectacle  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth;  to  die  a  lin- 
gering death,  exposed  to  the  tauntings 
and  revilings  of  a  profligate  multitude, 
"  all  they  that  see  me  laugh  me  to  scorn ; 
they  shoot  out  the  lip,  they  shake  the 
head ;"  Psahn  22  :  7  ;  to  be  "  numbered 
7 


JO 


THE  HUMILIATION  OF  THE  MAN  CHRIST  JESUS. 


with  the  transgi'essors,"  Isaiah,  53  :  12, 
and  expire  amid  the  derision  and  de- 
spite of"  his  own  kinsmen  after  the  flesh  ; 
if  the  other  were  humiUty,  how  shall 
we  describe  this  1  Yet  to  this,  even  to 
this,  did  the  Mediator  condescend.  "  He 
endured,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  the  cross, 
despising  the  shame."  Hebrews,  12  :  2. 
He  felt  the  shame ;  otherwise  there 
was  nothing  memorable  in  his  bringing 
himself  to  despise  it.  He  despised  it, 
not  as  feeling  it  no  evil,  but  as  making 
it  of  no  account  when  set  against  the 
glorious  results  which  its  endurance 
would  effect.  For  it  was  not  only  ne- 
cessary that  he  should  die,  it  was  also 
necessary  that  he  should  die  ignomini- 
ously.  He  must  die  as  a  crimi?ial ;  we 
wish  you  to  observe  that.  He  was  to 
die  as  man's  substitute ;  and  man  was 
a  criminal,  yea,  the  very  basest.  So 
that  death  by  public  sentence,  death  as 
a  malefactor,  may  be  said  to  have  been 
required  from  a  surety  who  stood  in 
the  place  of  traitors,  with  all  their  trea- 
son on  his  shoulders.  The  shame  of  the 
cross  was  not  gratuitous.  It  was  not 
enough  that  the  substitute  humbled 
himself  to  death  ;  he  must  humble  him- 
self to  a  shameful  death.  And  Christ 
Jesus  did  this.  He  could  say,  in  the  pa- 
thetic words  of  prophecy,  "  I  hid  not 
my  face  from  shame  and  spitting."  Isa. 
50  :  6.  And  shall  we  doubt,  that,  man 
as  he  was,  keenly  alive  to  unmerited 
disgrace,  the  indignities  of  his  death 
added  loathsomeness  to  the  cup  which 
he  had  undertaken  to  drink  ;  and  shall 
we  not  then  confess  that  there  was  an 
humiliation  in  the  mode  of  dying,  over 
and  above  that  of  taking  flesh,  and  that 
of  permitting  himself  to  be  mortal — 
so  that  the  apostle's  words  are  vindi- 
cated in  their  every  letter,  "  being  found 
in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  humhlcd  himself, 
and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even 
the  death  of  the  cross  1  " 

We  can  only,  in  conclusion,  press  on 
you  the  exhortation  of  St.  Paul :  "Let 
this  mind  be  in  you  which  was  also  in 
Christ  Jesus."  He  died  to  make  atone- 
ment, but  he  died  also  to  set  a  pattern. 
Shall  selfishness  find  patrons  amongst 
yoti  when  you  have  gazed  on  this  exam- 
ple of  disinterestedness  %  Shall  pride 
be  harbored  after  you  have  seen  Deity 


humbling  himself,    and   then,   as    man, 
abasing  himself,  till  there  was  no  lower 
point  to  which  he  could  descend  1  And 
all  this   for  us ;    for  you,  for  me ;     for 
the  vile,  for  the  reprobate,  for  theiost! 
And  what  return  do  we  make  %     Alas  ! 
for  the  neglect,  the  contempt,  the  cold- 
ness, the  formality,  which  he  who  hum- 
bled himself,  and  agonized,  and  died  the 
death  of  shame  on  our  behalf,  receives 
at  our  hands.  Which  of  us  is  faithfully 
taking  pattern  %  Which  of  us,  I  do  not 
say,   has    mastered   and    ejected  pride, 
but  is  setting  himself  in  good   earnest, 
and  with  all  the  energy  which  might  be 
brought   to  the  work,  to   the  wrestling 
with  pride  and    sweeping  it  from  the 
breast  %  would  to   God    that  this    pas- 
sion-season may  leave  us  more  humble, 
more    self-denying,   more    disposed    to 
bear  one  another's  burdens,  than  it  finds 
us.     Would  to  God  that  it  may  write, 
more  deeply  than  ever  on   our  hearts, 
the  doctrine  which  is  the  alone  engine 
against  the    haughtiness  and  self-suffi- 
ciency of  the  fallen,  that  the  Mediator 
between  eartli    aud  heaven  was    "  per- 
fect God  and  perfect  man."  *     There 
must  be  Deity  in  the  rock  which  could 
bear  up  a  foundered  world.     May  none 
of  you  forget  this.     The  young  amongst 
you  more  especially,  keep  ye  this  dili- 
gently in  mind.  I  have  lived  much  amid 
the  choicest  assemblies   of  the   literary 
youth  of  our  land,  and  I  know  full  well 
how  commonly  the  pride  of  talent,  or 
the   appetite   for  novelty,  or  the  desire 
to  be    singular,  or  the    aversion  '  from 
what    is    holy,  will    cause  an  unstable 
mind  to  yield  itself  to  the  specious  so- 
phistry, or  the   licentious  effrontery,  of 
sceptical  writings.     I    pray    God    that 
none  of  you  be  drawn  within  the  ed- 
dies   of    that    whirljjool    of   infidelity, 
which    rends    into    a  thousand    shivers 
the  noblest  barks,  freighted  with  a  rich 
lading  of  intellect  and  learning.     Be  ye 
watchful  alike    against  the    dogmas  of 
an  indolent  reasoning,  and    the    syren 
strains  of  a  voluptuous  poetry,  and  the 
fiendlike  sneers  of  reprobate  men,  and 
the  polished  cavils  of  fashionable  con- 
tempt.    Let   none   of  these  seduce   or 
scare   you   from  the    simplicity  of  the 
faith,    and  breathe  blightingly  on  your 
allegiance,    and  shrivel    you    into    that 


•  Athanasian  Creed. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OP  THE  RESURRECTION. 


6f 


withered  and  sapless  thing,  the  disciple 
of  a  creed  which  owns  not  divinity  in 
Christ.  If  I  durst  choose  between 
poison-cups,  I  would  take  Deism  rather 
than  Socinianism.  It  seems  better  to 
reject  as  forgeiy,  than,  having  received 
as  truth,  to  drain  of  meaning,  to  use, 
without  reserve,  the  sponge  and  the 
thumb-screw;  the  one,  when  passages 
are  too  plain  for  controversy,  the  other 
when  against  us,  till  unmercifully  tor- 
tured. May  you  all  see  that,  unless  a 
Mediator,  more  than  human,  had  stood 
in  the  gap  to  stay  the  plague,  the  penal- 


ties of  a  broken  law,  unsatisfied  through 
eternity,  must  have  entered  like  fiery 
arrows,  and  scathed  and  maddened  each 
descendant  of  Adam.  May  you  all  learn 
to  use  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement 
as  the  basis  of  hope,  and  the  motive  to 
holiness.  Thus  shall  this  passion-season 
be  a  new  starting-point  to  all  of  us ;  to 
those  who  have  never  entered  on  a  hea- 
venward course ;  to  those  who  have 
entered,  and  then  loitered ;  so  that 
none,  at  last,  may  occupy  the  strange 
and  fearful  position  of  men  for  whom 
a  Savior  died,  but  died  in  vain. 


SERMON  V. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION  VIEWED  IN  CONNEC- 
TION WITH  THAT  OF  THE  SOUL'S  IMMORTALITY. 


"  Jesus  said  unto  her,  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life." — John,  xi.  25. 


There  is  perhaps  no  narrative  in  the 
New  Testament  more  deeply  interest- 
ing than  that  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus. 
It  was  nearly  the  last  miracle  which 
Jesus  performed  while  sojourning  on 
earth;  and,  as  though  intended  for  a 
great  seal  of  his  mission,  you  find  the 
Savior  preparing  himself,  with  extraor- 
dinary care,  for  this  exhibition  of  his 
power.  He  had  indeed  on  two  other 
occasions  raised  the  dead.  The  daugh- 
ter of  Jairus,  and  the  widow's  son  of 
Nain,  had  both,  at  his  bidding,  been  re- 
stored to  life.  But  you  will  remember, 
that,  with  regard  to  the  former,  Christ 
had  used  the  expression,  "  the  damsel 
is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth  :  "  Mark,  5  :  39  : 
and  that,  probably,  the  latter  had  been 
only  a  short  time  deceased  when  car- 
ried out  for  burial.  Hence,  in  neither 
case,  was  the  evidence  that  death  had 
taken  place,  and  that  the  party  was  not 


in  a  trance,  so  clear  and  decisive  that 
no  room  was  left  for  the  cavils  of  the 
sceptic.  And  accordingly  there  is 
ground  of  doubt  whether  the  apostles 
themselves  were  thoroughly  convinced 
of  Christ's  power  over  death  ;  whether, 
that  is,  they  believed  him  able  to  re- 
cover life  when  once  totally  and  truly 
extinguished.  At  least,  you  will  observe, 
that,  when  told  that  Lazarus  was  actu- 
ally dead,  they  were  filled  with  sorrow; 
and  that,  when  Christ  said  that  he  would 
go  and  awaken  him  from  sleep,  they  re- 
solved indeed  to  accompany  their  Mas- 
ter, but  expected  rather  to  be  them- 
selves stoned  by  the  Jews,  than  to  see 
their  friend  brought  back  from  the 
sepulchre. 

We  may  suppose,  therefore,  that  it 
was  with  the  design  of  furnishing  an 
irresistible  demonstration  of  his  power, 
that,  after  hearing  of  the  illness  of  La- 


52 


THE  DOCTRINE  OP  THE  RESURRECTION. 


zarus,  Jesus  tarried  two  days  in  the 
place  where  the  message  had  found  him. 
He  loved  Lazarus,  and  Martha  and  Mary 
his  sisters.  It  must  then  have  been  the 
dictate  of  affection  that  he  should  hast- 
en to  the  distressed  family  as  soon  as 
informed  of  their  affliction.  13ut  had  he 
reached  Bethany  before  Lazarus  expir- 
ed, or  soon  after  the  catastrophe  had 
occurred,  we  may  readily  see  that  the 
same  objection  might  have  been  urged 
against  the  miracle  of  restoration,  as  in 
the  other  instances  in  which  the  grave 
had  been  deprived  of  its  prey.  There 
would  not  have  been  incontrovertible 
proof  of  actual  death;  and  neither, 
therefore,  would  tliere  have  been  in- 
controvertible proof  that  Jesus  was 
"  the  prince  of  life."  Acts,  3:  15.  But, 
by  so  delaying  his  journey  that  he  ar- 
rived not  at  Bethany  until  Lazarus  had 
been  four  days  dead,  Christ  cut  off  all 
occasion  of  cavil,  and,  rendering  it  un- 
deniable that  the  soul  had  been  sepa- 
rated from  the  body,  rendered  it  equally 
undeniable,  when  he  had  wrought  the 
miracle,  that  he  possessed  the  power 
of  re-uniting  the  two. 

As  Jesus  approached  Bethany,  he  was 
met  by  Martha,  who  seems  to  have  en- 
tertained some  indistinct  apprehension 
that  his  prevalence  with  God,  if  not  his 
own  might,  rendered  possible,  even  then, 
the  restoration  of  her  brother,  "  I  know 
that,  even  now,  whatsoever  thou  wilt 
ask  of  God,  God  will  give  it  thee." 
This  drew  from  Jesus  the  saying,  "  thy 
brother  shall  rise  again."  The  resur- 
rection of  the  body  was,  at  this  time, 
an  article  of  the  national  creed,  being 
confessed  by  the  great  mass  of  the  Jews, 
though  denied  by  the  Sadducees.  Hence 
Martha  had  no  difficulty  in  assenting  to 
what  Jesus  declared;  though  she  plain- 
ly implied  that  she  both  wished  and 
hoped  something  more  on  behalf  of  her 
brother,  *'  I  know  that  he  shall  rise 
again  in  the  resurrection,  at  the  last 
day."  And  now  it  was,  that,  in  order  to 
obtain  a  precise  declaration  of  faith  in 
his  power,  Jesus  addressed  Martha  in 
the  words  of  our  text,  words  of  an  ex- 
traordinary beauty  and  solemnity,  put 
by  the  Church  into  the  mouth  of  the 
minister,  as  he  meets  the  sorrowing 
band  who  bear  a  brother,  or  a  sister,  to 
the  long  home  ajipointed  for  our  race. 
Jesus  said  unto  her,  •'  I  am  the  resur- 
rection and  the  Hfe.^"     Martha  had  ex- 


pressed frankly  her  belief  in  a  general 
resurrection ;  but  she  seemed  not  to  as- 
sociate this  resurrection  with  Jesus  as 
a  cause  and  an  agent.  The  Redeemer, 
therefore,  gathers,  as  it  were,  the  gene- 
ral resurrection  into  Himself;  and,  as 
though  asserting  that  all  men  shall  in- 
deed rise,  but  only  through  mysterious 
union  with  himself,  he  declares,  not 
that  he  will  effect  the  resurrection,  sum- 
moning by  his  voice  the  tenantry  fi-om 
the  sepulchres,  but  that  he  is  Himself 
that  resurrection  :  "  I  am  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  life." 

Now  it  were  beside  our  purpose  to 
follow  further  the  narrative  of  the  rais- 
ing of  Lazarus.  We  have  shown  you 
how  the  words  of  our  text  are  intro- 
duced, and  we  shall  find  that,  when  de- 
tached from  the  context,  they  furnish 
material  of  thought  amply  sufficient 
for  a  single  discourse. 

It  seems  to  us,  that,  in  claiming  such 
titles  as  those  which  are  to  come  un- 
der review,  Christ  declared  himself  the 
cause  and  the  origin  of  the  immortality 
of  our  bodies  and  souls.  In  announcing 
himself  as  "  the  resun-ection,"  he  must 
be  considered  as  stating  that  he  alone 
effects  the  wondrous  result  of  the  cor- 
ruptible putting  on  incorruption.  In 
announcing  himself  as  "  the  life,"  he 
equally  states  that  he  endows  the  spirit 
with  its  happiness,  yea,  rather  with  its 
existence  through  eternity.  If  Christ 
had  only  termed  himself  "  the  resurrec- 
tion," we  might  have  considered  him 
as  refen-ing  merely  to  the  body — as- 
serting it  to  be  a  consequence  on  his 
work  of  mediation  that  the  dust  of  ages 
shall  again  quicken  into  life.  But  when 
He  terms  himself  also  "  the  life,"  we 
cannot  but  suppose  a  reference  to  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  so  that  this 
noble  and  sublime  fact  is,  in  some  way, 
associated  with  the  achievements  of 
redemption. 

We  are  accustomed,  indeed,  to  think 
that  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is  in- 
dependent on  the  atonement ;  so  that, 
although  had  there  been  no  redemption 
there  would  have  been  no  resurrection, 
the  principle  within  us  would  have  re- 
mained unquenched,  subsisting  for  ever, 
and  for  ever  accessible  to  pain  and  pen- 
alty. We  shall  not  pause  to  examine 
the  justice  or  injustice  of  the  opinion. 
We  shall  only  remark  that  the  exist- 
ence of  the  soul  is,  undoubtedly,  as  de- 


THE  DOCTRINE  OP  THE  RESURRECTION. 


53 


pendent  upon  God  as  that  of  the  body  ; 
that  no  spii-it,  except  Deity  himself,  can 
be  necessarily,  and  inherently,  immor- 
tal ;  and  that,  if  it  should  please  the 
Almighty  to  put  an  arrest  on  those  mo- 
mentary outgoings  of  life  which  flow 
from  himself,  and  permeate  the  uni- 
verse, he  would  instantly  once  more  be 
alone  in  infinity,  and  one  vast  bankrupt- 
cy of  being  overspread  all  the  provin- 
ces of  creation.  There  seems  no  rea- 
son, if  we  may  thus  speak,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  why  the  soul  should  not  die. 
Her  life  is  a  derived  and  dependent 
life;  and  that  which  is  derived  and  de- 
pendent may,  of  com-se,  cease  to  be, 
at  the  will  of  the  author  and  upholder. 
And  it  is  far  beyond  us  to  ascertain 
what  term  of  being  would  have  been 
assigned  to  the  soul,  had  there  arisen 
no  champion  and  surety  of  the  fallen. 
We  throw  ourselves  into  a  region  of 
speculation,  across  which  there  runs  no 
discernible  pathway,  when  we  inquire 
whether  there  would  have  been  an  an- 
nihilation, supposing  there  had  not  been 
a  redemption  of  man.  We  can  only 
say,  that  the  soul  has  not,  and  cannot 
have,  any  more  than  the  body,  the 
sources  of  vitality  in  herself.  We  can, 
therefore,  see  the  possibility,  if  not 
prove  the  certainty,  that  it  is  only 
because  "  the  word  was  made  flesh," 
John,  1 :  14,  and  struggled  for  us  and 
died,  that  the  human  spirit  is  unquench- 
able, and  that  the  principle,  which  dis- 
tinguishes us  from  the  brutes,  shall  re- 
tain everlastingly  its  strength  and  its 
majesty. 

But  without  travelling  into  specula- 
tive questions,  we  wish  to  take  our  text 
as  a  revelation,  or  announcement,  of 
the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  and  to  ex- 
amine how,  by  joining  the  terms,  resur- 
rection and  life,  Christ  made  up  what 
was  wanting  in  the  calculations  of  na- 
tural religion,  when  turned  on  deter- 
mininsT  this  grand  article  of  faith. 

Now  with  this  as  our  chief  object 
of  discourse,  we  shall  endeavor,  in  the 
first  place,  to  show  briefly  the  accuracy 
with  which  Christ  may  be  designated 
"  the  Resurrection."  We  shall  then, 
in  the  second  place,  attempt  to  prove, 
that  the  resurrection  of  the  body  is  a 
great  element  in  the  demonstration  of 
"  the  life,"  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

We  begin  by  reminding  you  of  a  fact, 
not  easily  overlooked,  that  the  resur- 


rection is,  in  the  very  strictest  sense,  a 
consequence  on  redemption.  Had  not 
Chnst  undertaken  the  suretyship  of  our 
race,  there  would  never  have  come  a 
time  when  the  dead  shall  be  raised.  If 
there  had  been  no  interposition  on  be- 
half of  the  fallen,  whatever  had  become 
of  the  souls  of  men,  their  bodies  must 
have  remained  under  the  tyranny  of 
death.  The  original  curse  was  a  curse 
of  death  on  the  whole  man.  And  it 
cannot  be  argued  that  the  curse  of 
the  body's  death  could  allow,  so  long 
as  unrepealed,  the  body's  resurrection. 
So  that  we  may  lay  it  down  as  an 
undisputed  truth,  that  Christ  Jesus 
achieved  man's  resurrection.  He  was, 
emphatically,  the  Author  of  man's  re- 
surrection. Without  Christ,  and  apart 
from  that  redemption  of  our  nature 
which  he  wrought  out  by  obedience 
and  suffering,  there  would  have  been 
no  resurrection.  It  is  just  because  the 
Eternal  Son  took  our  nature  into  union 
with  his  own,  and  endured  therein  the 
curse  provoked  by  disobedience,  that 
a  time  is  yet  to  arrive  when  the  buried 
generations  shall  throw  off*  the  dis- 
honors of  coiTuption. 

But  we  are  ready  to  allow  that  the 
proving  Christ  the  cause,  or  the  author 
of    the   resurrection,    is    not,    in   strict 
truth,   the  proving  him   that   resuiTec- 
tion  itself.     There  must  be  some  broad 
sense  in  which  it  holds  good  that  the 
resuiTection  of  Christ  was  the  resurrec- 
tion of  all  men  ;  otherwise  it  would  be 
hard  to  vindicate  the  thorough    accu- 
racy of  our  text.     And  if  you  call  to 
mind  the  statement  of  St.  Paul,  "  since 
by  man  came  death,  by  man  came  also 
the  resuiTection  of  the  dead,"  1  Cor. 
15  :  21,  you  will  perceive  that  the  re- 
surrection came   by  Christ,  in  exactly 
the  same  manner  as  death  had  come  by 
Adam.     Now  we  know  that  death  came 
by  Adam  as  the  representative  of  hu- 
man nature ;  and  we,   therefore,   infer 
that  the    resurrection   came  by    Christ 
as  the  representative  of  human  nature. 
Retaining  always  his  divine  personality, 
the   second   person  of  the   Trinity  took 
our  nature  into  union  with    his   own ; 
and  in  all  his  obedience,  and  in   all  his 
suffering,  occupied  this   nature   in   the 
character,  and  with  the  properties,  of  a 
head.     When  he  obeyed,  it  was  the  na- 
ture,  and  not  a  human  person  which 
obeyed.     When  he  suffered,  it  was  the 


54 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


nature,  and  not  a  human  person  which 
suffered.  So  that,  when  he  died,  he 
died  as  our  head ;  and  when  he  rose, 
he  arose  also  as  our  head.  And  thus — 
keeping  up  the  alleged  parallel  between 
Adam  and  Christ — as  every  man  dies 
because  concerned  in  the  disobedience 
of  the  one,  so  he  rises  because  included 
in  the  ransom  of  the  other.  Human  na- 
ture having  been  crucified,  and  buried, 
and  raised  in  Jesus,  all  who  partake  of 
this  nature,  partake  of  it  in  the  state 
into  which  it  has  been  brought  by  a 
Mediator,  a  state  of  rescue  from  the 
power  of  the  grave,  and  not  of  a  con- 
tinuance in  its  dark  dishonors.  The 
nature  had  almost  literally  died  in  Adam, 
and  this  nature  did  as  literally  revive 
in  Christ.  Christ  carried  it  through  all 
its  scenes  of  trial,  and  toil,  and  temp- 
tation, up  to  the  closing  scene  of  an- 
guish and  death ;  and  then  he  went 
down  in  it  to  the  chambers  of  its 
lonely  slumbers;  and  there  he  brake 
into  shivers  the  chain  which  bound  it 
and  kept  it  motionless  ;  and  he  brought 
it  triumphantly  back,  the  moital  immor- 
talized, the  decaying  imperishable,  and 
"  I  am  the  Resurrection,"  was  then  the 
proclamation  to  a  wondering  universe. 

We  trench  not,  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree, on  the  special  privileges  of  the 
godly,  when  we  assert  that  there  is  a 
link  which  unites  Christ  with  every  in- 
dividual of  the  vast  family  of  man,  and 
that,  in  virtue  of  this  link,  the  graves 
of  the  earth  shall,  at  the  last  day,  be 
rifled  of  their  tenantry.  The  assertion 
is  that  of  St.  Paul :  "  Forasmuch  then 
as  the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh 
and  blood,  he  also  himself  likewise  took 
part  of  the  same,  that  through  death 
he  might  destroy  him  that  had  the 
power  of  death."  Heb.  2  :  14.  So  that 
the  Redeemer  made  himself  bone  of  our 
bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh  ;  and  he 
thus  united  himself  with  every  dweller 
upon  the  globe ;  and,  as  a  consequence 
on  such  union,  that  which  he  wrought 
out  for  his  own  flesh,  he  wrought  out 
for  all  flesh  ;  making,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  and  by  one  and  the  same 
act,  his  own  immortal,  and  that  of  all 
immortal.  He  was  then,  literally,  "  the 
Resurrection."  His  resurrection  was 
the  resurrection  of  the  nature,  and  the 
resurrection  of  the  nature  was  the  re- 
surrection of  all  men.  Oh,  it  is  an 
amazing  contemplation,  one  to  which 


even  thought  must  always  fail  to  do 
justice  !  The  fii'st  Adam  just  laid  the 
blighting  hand  of  disobedience  on  the 
root  of  human  nature,  and  the  count- 
less millions  of  shoots,  which  were  to 
spring  up  and  cover  the  earth,  were 
stricken  with  corruption,  and  could 
grow  only  to  wither  and  decay.  The  se- 
cond Adam  nurtured  the  root  in  righte- 
ousness, and  watered  it  with  blood. 
And,  lo  !  a  vivifying  sap  went  up  into 
every,  the  most  distant  branch;  and 
over  this  sap  death  wields  no  power; 
for  the  sap  goes  down  with  the  branch 
into  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  and,  at 
God's  appointed  time,  shall  quicken  it 
afresh,  and  cause  it  to  arise  indestruc- 
tible through  eternity.  It  would  be 
quite  inconsistent  with  the  resurrection 
of  the  natui'e — and  this  it  is,  you  ob- 
serve, which  makes  Christ  "  the  Resur- 
rection"— that  any  individual  partak- 
ing that  nature,  should  continue  for 
ever  cased  up  in  the  sepulchre.  And 
if  there  never  moved  upon  this  earth 
beings  who  gave  ear  to  the  tidings  of 
salvation;  if  the  successive  generations 
of  mankind,  without  a  lonely  exception, 
laughed  to  scorn  the  proffers  of  mercy 
and  forgiveness ;  still  this  desperate 
and  unvarying  infidelity  would  have  no 
effect  on  the  resurrection  of  the  species. 
The  bond  of  flesh  is  not  to  be  rent  by 
any  of  the  acts  of  the  most  daring  re- 
bellion. And  in  virtue  of  this  union, 
sure  as  that  the  Mediator  rose,  sure  as 
that  he  shall  return  and  sit,  in  awful 
pomp,  on  the  judgment-seat,  so  sure 
is  it  that  the  earth  shall  yet  heave 
at  every  pore;  and  that,  even  had  it 
received  in  deposit  the  bodies  of  none 
save  the  unrighteous  and  the  infidel,  it 
would  give  up  the  dust  with  a  most 
faithful  accuracy;  so  that  the  Inu'ied 
would  arise,  imperishable  in  bone  and 
sinew  ;  and  the  despisers  of  Christ,  be- 
ing of  one  flesh  with  him,  must  share 
in  the  resurrection  of  that  flesh,  though, 
not  being  of  one  spirit,  they  shall  have 
no  part  in  its  glorification. 

You  see,  then,  that  Christ  is  more 
than  the  efficient  cause  of  the  resurrec- 
tion; that  he  is  the  resun'ection :  "  I 
am  the  Resurrection."  And  we  cannot 
quit  this  portion  of  our  subject  without 
again  striving  to  impress  upon  you  the 
augustness  and  sublimity  of  the  ascer- 
tained fact.  The  untold  myriads  of  our 
lineage  rose  in  the  resurrection  of  the 


THE  DOCTRINE  OP  THE  RESURRECTION. 


5^ 


new  Head  of  our  race.  Never,  oh  never, 
would  the  sheeted  rehques  of  mankind 
have  walked  forth  from  the  vaults  and 
the  church-yards  ;  never  from  the  val- 
ley and  the  mountain  would  there  have 
started  the  millions  who  have  fallen  in 
the  battle-tug ;  never  would  the  giant- 
caverns  of  the  unfathomed  ocean  have 
yielded  up  the  multitudes  who  were 
swept  from  the  earth  when  its  wicked- 
ness grew  desperate,  or  whom  strand- 
ed navies  have  bequeathed  to  the  guar- 
dianship of  the  deep  ;  never  would  the 
dislocated  and  decomposed  body  have 
shaken  off  its  dishonors,  and  stood  out 
iu  strength  and  in  symmetry,  bone 
coming  again  to  bone,  and  sinews  bind- 
ing them,  and  skin  covering  them — had 
not  He,  who  so  occupied  the  nature 
that  he  could  act  for  the  race,  descend- 
ed, in  his  prowess  and  his  purity,  into 
tile  chambers  of  death,  and  scattering 
the  seeds  of  a  new  existence  through- 
(.)ut  their  far-spreading  ranges,  aban- 
doned them  to  gloom  and  silence  till  a 
ihicd  and  on-coming  day;  appointing 
that  then  the  seeds  should  certainly 
L;(;rminate  into  a  rich  harvest  of  undy- 
ing bodies,  and  the  walls  of  the  cham- 
bers, falling  flat  at  the  trumpet-blast  of 
judgment,  disclose  the  swarming  ar- 
mies of  the  buried  marching  onward  to 
the  "  great  white  throne."   Rev.  20  :  11. 

Eut  we  shall  not  dwell  longer  on  the 
fact  that  Christ  Jesus  is  "  the  Resur- 
rection." Our  second  topic  of  dis- 
course presents  most  of  difficulty  ;  and 
we  shall,  therefore,  give  it  the  remain- 
der of  our  time. 

We  wish  to  take  our  text  as  an  an- 
nouncement of  the  immortality  of  the 
!^:)ul,  and  to  examine  how,  by  joining 
the  terms  resuirection  and  life,  Christ 
supplied  what  was  wanting  in  the  cal- 
culations of  natural  religion.  Now  we 
hold  no-  terms  with  those,  who,  through 
an  overwrought  zeal  for  the  honor  of 
ihe  Gospel,  would  deprecate  the  strug- 
glings  after  knowledge  which  charac- 
lerized  the  days  preceding  Christianity. 
There  arose,  at  times,  men,  gifted  above 
their  fellows,  who  threw  themselves 
boldly  into  the  surrounding  dai'kness, 
and  brought  out  sparklings  of  truth 
which  they  showed  to  a  wondering,  yet 
doubting,  world.  Thus  the  immortali- 
ty of  the  soul  was  certainly  held  by 
sundry  of  the  ancient  philosophers. 
And  though  there  might  be  much  error 


compounded  with  truth,  and  much  fee- 
bleness in  the  notions  entertained  of 
spiritual  subsistence,  it  was  a  great  tri- 
umph on  the  part  of  the  soul,  that  she 
did  at  all  shake  off  the  trammels  of 
flesh,  and,  soaring  upwards,  snatch 
something  like  proof  of  her  own  high 
destinies. 

We  believe  that  amongst  those  who 
enjoyed  not  the  advantages  of  revela- 
tion there  was  no  susjoicion  of  a  resur- 
rection, but  there  was,  at  least,  a  sur- 
mise of  life.  We  say  a  surmise  of  life. 
For  if  you  examine  carefully  the  limit 
to  which  unaided  discovery  might  be 
pushed,  you  will  find  cause  to  think 
that  a  shrewd  guess,  or  a  brilliant  con- 
jecture, is  the  highest  attainment  of 
natural  religion.  That  mere  matter  can 
never  have  consciousness ;  that  mere 
matter  can  never  feel ;  that,  by  no  con- 
stitution and  adjustment  of  its  atoms, 
can  mere  matter  become  capable  of 
acts  of  understanding  and  reason  ;  we 
can  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
these  are  self-evident  truths,  of  which 
no  candid  mind  will  ask  a  demonstra- 
tion. The  mind  is  its  own  witness  that 
it  is  something  more  than  matter.  And 
when  men  have  thus  proved  themselves 
in  part  immaterial,  they  have  made  a 
long  advance  towards  proving  them- 
selves immortal.  They  have  ascertain- 
ed, at  least,  the  existence  of  a  princi- 
ple, which,  not  being  matter,  will  not 
necessarily  be  affected  by  the  dissolu- 
tion of  matter.  And  having  once  deter- 
mined that  there  is  a  portion  of  man 
adapted  for  the  soaring  away  from  the 
ruins  of  matter,  let  attention  be  given 
to  the  scrutiny  of  this  portion,  and  it 
will  be  found  so  capable  of  noble  per- 
formances, so  fitted  for  the  contempla- 
tion of  things  spiritual  and  divine,  that 
it  shall  commend  itself  to  the  inquirer 
as  destined  to  the  attainments  of  a  lof- 
tier existence.  So  that  we  are  certain 
upon  the  point  that  man  might  prove 
himself  in  part  immaterial,  and,  there-, 
fore,  capable  of  existence,  when  sepa- 
rate from  matter.  And  we  are  persuad- 
ed yet  furthei',  that,  having  shown  him- 
self capable  of  a  future  existence,  he 
might  also  show  himself  capable  of  an 
immortal ;  there  being  ample  reason  on 
the  side  of  the  opinion,  that  the  princi- 
ple, which  could  survive  at  all,  might 
go  on  surviving  for  ever. 

Now  this  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  ar- 


56 


THE  DOCTRINE  OP  THE  RESURRECTION. 


gument  which  might  be  pursued  for  the 
soul's  immortality.  Man  might  reason 
up  from  matter  as  insensible  to  himself 
as  sensible.  He  might  conclude,  that, 
since  what  is  wholly  material  can  ne- 
ver think,  he  himself,  as  being  able  to 
think,  must  be,  in  part,  immaterial. 
And  the  moment  he  has  made  out  the 
point  of  an  immaterial  principle  actu- 
ating matter,  he  may  bring  to  bear  a 
vast  assemblage  of  proofs,  derived  alike 
from  the  aspirings  of  this  principle  and 
the  attributes  of  God,  all  confirmatory 
of  the  notion,  that  the  immaterial  shall 
survive  when  the  material  has  been 
worn  down  and  sepulchred. 

But  we  think  that  when  a  man  had 
reasoned  up  to  a  capacity  of  immor- 
tality, he  would  have  reached  the  fur- 
thest possible  point.  We  think  that 
natural  religion  could  just  show  him 
that  he  might  live  for  ever,  but  cer- 
tainly not  that  he  would  live  for  ever. 
He  mitjht  have  been  brousfht  into  a 
persuasion  that  the  principle  within 
him  was  not  necessarily  subject  to 
death.  But  he  could  not  have  assured 
himself  that  God  would  not  consign 
this  principle  to  death.  It  is  one  thing 
to  prove  a  principle  capable  of  immor- 
tality, and  quite  another  to  prove  that 
God  will  allow  it  to  be  immortal.  And 
if  man  had  brought  into  the  account 
the  misdoings  of  his  life ;  if  he  had  re- 
membered how  grievously  he  had  per- 
mitted the  immaterial  to  be  the  slave 
of  the  material,  giving  no  homage  to 
the  ethereal  and  magnificent  principle, 
but  binding  it  basely  down  within  the 
frame-work  of  flesh  ;  why,  we  may  sup- 
pose there  would  have  come  upon  him 
the  fear,  we  had  almost  said  the  hope, 
that,  by  an  act  of  omnipotence,  God 
would  terminate  the  existence  of  that 
which  might  have  been  everlasting,  and, 
sending  a  canker-worm  into  the  long- 
dishonored  germ,  forbid  the  soul  to 
shoot  upwards  a  plant  of  immortality. 
So  that  we  again  say  that  a  capacity, 
but  not  a  certainty  of  immortality, 
would  be,  probably,  the  highest  discov- 
ery arrived  at  by  natural  religion.  And 
just  here  it  was  that  the  Gospel  came 
in,  and  bringing  man  tidings  from  the 
Father  of  spirits,  informed  him  of  the 
irrevocable  appointment  that  the  soul, 
like  the  Deity  of  which  it  is  the  spark, 
shall  go  not  out  and  wax  not  dim.  Re- 
vealed religion  approached  as  the  aux- 


iliary to  natural,  and,  confirming  all  its 
discoveries  of  man's  capacity  of  im- 
mortality, removed  all  doubts  as  to  his 
destinies  being  everlasting.  And  thus 
it  were  fair  to  contend,  that,  up  to  the 
coming  of  Christ,  man  had  done  no- 
thing more  than  carry  himself  to  the 
border-line  of  eternity  ;  and  that  there 
he  stood,  a  disembodied  spirit,  full  of 
the  amazing  consciousness,  that,  if  per- 
mitted to  spring  into  the  unbounded 
expanse,  he  should  never  be  mastered 
by  the  immensity  of  flight ;  but  ham- 
pered, all  the  while,  by  the  suspicion 
that  there  might  go  out  against  him 
a  decree  of  the  Omnipotent,  binding 
down  the  wings  of  the  soul,  and  for- 
bidding this  expiation  over  the  for  ever 
and  for  ever  of  Godhead.  So  that  the 
Gospel,  though  it  taught  not  man  that 
he  might  be,  assuredly  did  teach  him 
that  he  should  be,  immortal.  It  brought 
him  not  the  first  tidings  of  an  immate- 
rial principle,  but,  certainly,  it  first  in- 
formed him  that  nothing  should  inter- 
fere with  the  immaterial  becoming  the 
eternal. 

Now  you  will  observe  that  it  has 
been  the  object  of  these  remarks,  to 
prove  that  natural  religion  did  much, 
and  at  the  same  time  left  much  undone, 
in  regard  to  the  disclosures  of  a  future 
state  to  man.  We  have  striven,  there- 
fore, to  show  you  a  point  up  to  which 
discovery  might  be  pushed  without  aid 
from  revelation,  but  at  which,  if  not 
thus  assisted,  it  must  come  necessarily 
to  a  stand.  And  now,  if  you  would 
bring  these  statements  into  connection 
with  our  text,  we  may  again  say  that 
natural  religion  had  a  surmise  of  life, 
but  no  suspicion  of  a  resurrection  ;  that 
if  Christ  had  only  said  "  I  am  the  life," 
he  would  have  left  in  darkness  and  per- 
plexity the  question  of  the  soul's  im- 
mortality ;  but  that  by  combinino^  two 
titles,  by  calling  himself  "  the  resur- 
rection and  the  life,"  he  removed  the 
difficulties  from  that  question,  and 
brought  to  light  the  immortality.  Wo 
wish  you  to  be  clear  on  this  gi'eat  point 
We  shall,  therefore,  examine  how  na- 
tural religion  came  to  be  deficient,  and 
how  the  statement  of  our  text  supplied 
what  was  wanting. 

Now  we  see  no  bettor  method  of  pro- 
secuting this  inquiry,  than  the  putting 
one's  self  into  the  position  of  a  man 
who  has  no  guidance  but  that  of  natu- 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


57* 


ral  religion.  If  there  had  never  shone 
on  me  the  beams  of  the  Gospel,  and  if 
I  could  only  gather  my  arguments  from 
what  I  felt  within  myself,  and  from  what 
I  saw  occurring  around  me,  I  might  ad- 
vance, step  by  stejJ,  through  some  such 
process  as  the  following.  I  am  not 
wholly  a  material  thing.  I  can  perceive, 
and  reason,  and  remember.  I  am  con- 
scious to  myself  of  powers  which  it  is 
impossible  that  mere  matter,  however 
wrought  up  or  moulded,  could  possess 
or  exercise.  There  must,  then,  be  with- 
in me  an  immaterial  principle,  a  some- 
thing which  is  not  matter,  a  soul,  an 
invisible,  mysterious,  powerful,  pervad- 
ing thing.  And  this  soul,  I  feel  that  it 
struggles  after  immortality.  I  feel  that 
it  urges  me  to  the  practice  of  virtue, 
however  painful,  and  that  it  warns  me 
against  the  pursuit  of  vice,  however 
pleasant.  I  feel  that  it  acts  -upon  me  by 
motives,  derived  from  the  properties  of 
a  God,  but  which  lose  all  their  point 
and  power,  unless  I  am  hereafter  to  be 
judged  and  dealt  with  according  to  my 
actions.  And  if  natural  religion  have 
thus  enabled  me,  at  the  least,  to  conjec- 
ture that  there  shall  come  a  judgment, 
and  a  state  of  retribution,  what  is  it 
which  puts  an  arrest  on  my  search  ings, 
and  forbids  my  going  onward  to  cer- 
tainty 1  We  reply  without  hesitation, 
death.  Natural  religion  cannot  overleap 
the  grave.  It  is  just  the  fact  of  the 
body's  dissolution,  of  the  taking  down 
of  this  fleshly  tabernacle,  of  the  resolu- 
tion of  bone,  and  flesh,  and  sinew  into 
dust — it  is  just  this  fact  which  shakes  all 
my  calculations  of  a  judgment,  and 
throws  a  darkness,  not  to  be  penetrated, 
round  "  life  and  immortality."  2  Tim. 
1:10.  And  why  so  ?  Why,  after  show- 
ing that  I  am  immaterial — why,  after 
proving  that  a  part  of  myself  spurns 
from  it  decay,  and  is  not  necessarily 
affected  by  the  breaking-up  of  the  body 
— why- should  death  interfere  with  my 
conviction  of  the  certainties  of  judg- 
ment and  retribution  1  We  hold  the 
reason  to  be  simple  and  easily  defined. 
If  there  shall  come  a  judgment,  of 
course  the  beings  judged  must  be  the 
very  beings  who  have  lived  on  this 
earth.  If  there  shall  come  a  retribution, 
of  course  the  beings  rewarded  or  pun- 
ished must  be  the  very  beings  who  have 
been  virtuous  or  vicious  in  this  present 
existence.     There  can  be  nothing  clear- 


er than  that  the  individuals  judged,  and 
the  individuals  recompensed,  must  be 
the  very  individuals  who  have  here 
moved  and  acted,  the  sons  and  the 
daughters  of  humanity.  But  how  can 
they  be  1  The  soul  is  not  the  man. 
There  must  be  the  material,  as  well  a»» 
the  immaterial,  to  make  up  man.  The 
vicious  person  cannot  be  the  suffering 
person,  and  the  virtuous  person  cannot 
be  the  exalted  person,  and  neither  can 
be  the  tried  person,  unless  body  and 
soul  stand  together  at  the  tribunal, 
constituting  hereafter  the  very  person 
which  they  constitute  here.  And  if  na- 
tural religion  know  nothing  of  a  resur- 
rection— and  it  does  know  nothing,  the 
resurrection  being  purely  an  article  of 
revelation — we  hold  that  natural  reli- 
gion must  here  be  thrown  out  of  all 
her  calculations,  and  that  confusion  and 
doubt  will  be  the  result  of  her  best 
searchings  after  truth. 

I  see  that  if  there  be  a  judgment 
hereafter,  the  individuals  judged  must 
be  the  very  individuals  who  have  f)bey- 
ed  here,  or  disobeyed  here.  But  if  the 
material  part  be  dissolved,  and  there  re- 
main nothing  but  the  immaterial,  they 
are  not,  and  they  cannot  be,  the  very 
same  individuals.  The  soul,  we  again 
say,  is  not  the  man.  And  if  the  soul,  by 
itself,  stand  in  judgment,  it  is  not  the 
man  who  stands  in  judgment.  And  if 
the  man  stand  not  in  judgment,  there 
is  no  putting  of  the  obedient,  or  the 
offending  being  upon  trial.  So  that 
there  is  at  once  an  overthrow  of  the 
reasoning  by  which  I  had  sustained 
the  expectation,  that  the  future  comes 
charged  with  the  actings  of  a  mighty 
jurisdiction.  I  cannot  master  the  mys- 
teries of  the  sepulchre.  I  may  have 
sat  down  in  one  of  the  solitudes  of  na- 
ture ;  and  I  may  have  gazed  on  a  fir- 
mament and  a  landscape  which  seemed 
to  burn  with  divinity ;  and  I  may  have 
heard  the  whisperings  of  a  more  than 
human  voice,  telling  me  thtit  I  am  des- 
tined for  companionship  with  the  bright 
tenantry  of  a  far  lovelier  scene  ;  and  I 
may  then  have  pondered  on  myself: 
there  may  have  throbbed  within  me  the 
pulses  of  eternity  ;  I  may  have  felt  the 
soarings  of  the  immaterial,  and  I  may 
have  risen  thrilling  with  the  thought 
that  I  should  yet  find  myself  the  im- 
mortal. But  if,  when  I  went  forth  to 
mix  again  with  my  fellows — the  splen- 
8 


58 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


did  tliought  still  crowding  every  cham- 
ber of  the  spirit — I  met  the  spectacle 
of  the  dead  borne  along  to  their  buiial ; 
why,  this  demonstration  of  human  mor- 
tality would  be  as  a  thunder-cloud 
passing  over  my  brilliant  contempla- 
tions; and  I  should  not  know  how  to 
believe  myself  reserved  for  endless  al- 
lotments, when  I  saw  one  of  my  own 
lineage  coffined  and  sepulchred.  How 
can  this  buried  man  be  judged  1  How 
can  he  be  put  upon  trial  ?  His  soul  may 
be  judged,  his  soul  may  be  put  upon 
trial.  But  the  soul  is  not  himself.  And 
if  it  be  not  himself  who  is  judged,  judg- 
ment proceeds  not  according  to  the  ri- 
gors of  justice,  and,  therefore,  not  ac- 
cording to  the  attributes  of  Deity. 

And  thus  the  grand  reason  why  na- 
tural religion  cannot  fully  demonstrate 
a  judgment  to  come,  and  a  state  of  re- 
tribution, seems  to  be   that   it   cannot 
demonstrate,  nay  rather,  that  it  cannot 
even  suspect,    the  resurrection  of  the 
body.     The  great  difficulty,  whilst  man 
18  left  to  discover  for  himself,  is  how 
to  bring  upon  the  platform  of  the  fu- 
ture the  identical  beings  who  are  shat- 
tered by  death.      So    that    unless   you 
introduce  "  the  resurrection,"  you  will 
not  make  intelligible  "  the  life."     The 
showing  that  the  body  will  rise  is  in- 
dispensable to  the  showing,  not  indeed 
that  the  soul  is  capable  of  immortality, 
but   that  her  immortality  can  consist, 
as  it  must  consist,  with  judgment  and 
retribution.      We    contend,    therefore, 
that  the  great  clearing-up  of  the  soul's 
immortality  was  Christ's  combining  the 
titles  of  our  text,  "  I  am  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  life."     Let  man  be  assured 
that  his  body  shall  rise,  and  there  is  an 
end  to  those  difficulties   which  throng 
around   him  when    observing   that   his 
body  must  die.     Thus  it  was  "  the  re- 
surrection "  which   turned    a   flood   of 
brightness  on   "  the  life."     The    main 
thing  wanted,  in  order  that  men  might 
he  assured  of  immortality,  was  a  grap- 
pling with  death.     It  was  the  showing 
that  there  should  be  no  lasting  separa- 
tion between  soul  and  body.     It  was  the 
exhibiting  the    sepulchres    emptied  of 
their  vast  population,  and  giving  up  the 
dust  remoulded  into  human  shape.  And 
this  it  was  which  the  Mediator  effected, 
not  BO  much  by  announcement  as   by 
action,  not  so  much  by   preaching  re- 
surrection and  life,  as  by  being  "  the 


resurrection  and  the  life."  He  went 
down  to  the  grave  in  the  weakness  of " 
humanity,  but,  at  the  same  time,  in  the 
might  of  Deity.  And,  designing  to 
pour  forth  a  torrent  of  lustre  on  the 
life,  the  everlasting  life  of  man,  oh,  he 
did  not  bid  the  firmament  cleave  asun- 
der, and  the  constellations  of  eternity 
shine  out  in  their  majesties,  and  daz- 
zle and  blind  an  overawed  creation. 
He  rose  up,  a  moral  giant,  from  his 
grave-clothes  ;  and,  proving  death  van- 
quished in  his  own  stronghold,  left  the 
vacant  sepulchre  as  a  centre  of  light  to 
the  dwellers  on  this  planet.  He  took 
not  the  suns  and  systems  which  crowd 
immensity  in  order  to  form  one  brilliant 
cataract,  which,  rushing  down  in  its 
glories,  might  sweep  away  darkness 
from  the  benighted  race  of  the  apos- 
tate. But  he  came  forth  from  the  tomb, 
masterful  and  victorious  ;  and  the  place 
where  he  had  lain  became  the  focus  of 
the  rays  of  the  long-hidden  tvuth  ;  and 
the  fragments  of  his  gi'ave-stone  were 
the  stars  from  which  flashed  the  im- 
mortality of  man. 

It  was  by  teaching  men  that  they 
should  rise  again,  it  was  by  being  him- 
self "  the  resurrection,"  that  he  taught 
them  they  should  live  the  life  of  im- 
mortality. This  was  bringing  the  miss- 
ing element  into  the  attempted  demon- 
stration ;  for  this  was  proving  that  the 
complete  man  shall  stand  to  be  judged 
at  the  judgment-seat  of  God.  And  thus 
it  is,  we  again  say,  that  the  combina- 
tion of  titles  in  our  text  makes  the  pas- 
sage an  intelligible  revelation  of  the 
soul's  immortality.  And  prophets  might 
have  stood  upon  the  earth,  proclaiming 
to  the  nations  that  every  individual 
earned  within  himself  a  princij^le  im- 
perishable and  unconquerable ;  they 
might  have  spoken  of  a  vast  and  so- 
lemn scene  of  assize  ;  and  they  might 
have  conjured  men  by  the  bliss  and  the 
glory,  the  iire  and  the  shame  of  never- 
ending  allotments :  but  doubt  and  un- 
certainty must  have  overcast  the  fu- 
ture, unless  they  could  have  bidden 
their  audience  anticipate  a  time  when 
the  whole  globe,  its  mountains,  its  de- 
serts, its  cities,  its  oceans,  shall  seem 
resolved  into  the  elements  of  human- 
kind ;  and  millions  of  eyes  look  up  from 
a  million  chasms ;  and  long-severed  spi- 
rits rush  down  to  the  very  tenements 
which  encased  them  in  the  days  of  pro- 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


59' 


bation  :  ay,  prophets  avouIcI  have  spo- 
ken in  vain  of  judgment  and  immortali- 
ty, unless  they  could  have  told  out  this 
marvellous  leaping  into  life  of  whatso- 
ever hath  been  man ;  and  never  could 
the  cloud  and  the  mist  have  been  rolled 
away  from  the  boundless  hereafter,  had 
there  not  arisen  a  being  who  could  de- 
clare, and  make  good  the  declaration, 
"  I  am  the  resun-ection  and  the  life." 

Now  we  have  been  induced  to  treat 
on  the  inspiring  words  of  our  text  by 
the  consideration  that  death  has,  of  late, 
been  unusually  busy  in  our  metropolis 
and  its  environs,  and  that,  therefore, 
such  a  subject  of  address  seemed  pe- 
culiarly calculated  to  interest  your  feel- 
ings. We  thank  thee,  and  we  praise 
thee,  O  Lord  our  Redeemer,  that  thou 
hast  "  abolished  death."  2  Timothy,  1  : 
10-  We  laud  and  magnify  thy  glorious 
name,  that  thou  hast  wrestled  with  our 
tyrant  in  the  citadel  of  his  empire  ; 
and  that,  if  we  believe  upon  thee,  death 
has,  for  us,  been  spoiled  of  its  power, 
so  that,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting, 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  1"  1  Cor. 
15:  55,  may  burst  from  our  lips  as  we 
expect  the  dissolution  of  "  our  earthly 
house  of  this  tabernacle."  2  Cor.  5:1. 
What  is  it  but  sin,  unpardoned  and 
wrath-deserving  sin,  which  gives  death 
its  fearfulness  1  It  is  not  the  mere  se- 
paration of  soul  from  body,  though  we 
own  this  to  be  awful  and  unnatural, 
worthy  man's  abhorrence,  as  causing 
him,  for  a  while,  to  cease  to  be  man. 
It  is  not  the  reduction  of  this  flesh  into 
original  elements,  earth  to  earth,  fire  to 
fii-e,  water  to  water,  which  makes  death 
so  terrible,  compelling  the  most  stout- 
hearted to  shrink  back  from  his  ap- 
proaches. It  is  because  death  is  a  con- 
sequence of  sin,  and  this  one  conse- 
quence involves  others  a  thousand-fold 
more  tremendous — a  sea  of  anger,  and 
Jvaves  of  fire,  and  the  desperate  anguish 
of  a  storm-tossed  spirit — it  is  on  this 
account  that  death  is  appalling :  and 
they  who  could  contentedly,  and  even 
cheerfully,  depart  from  a  world  which 
has  mocked  them,  and  deceived  them, 
and  wearied  them,  oh,  they  cannot  face 
a  God  whom  they  have  disobeyed,  and 
neglected,  and  scorned. 

And  if,  then,  there  be  the  taking 
away  of  sin ;  if  iniquity  be  blotted  out 
as  a  cloud,  and  transgression  as  a  thick 
cloud ;  is  not  all  its  bitterness  abstract- 


ed from  death  ?  And  if,  yet  further,  in 
addition  to  the  pardon  of  sin,  there 
have  been  imparted  to  man  a  "  right 
to  the  tree  of  life,"  Rev.  22  :  14,  so 
that  there  are  reserved  for  him  in  hea- 
ven the  splendors  of  immortality ;  is 
not  the  terrible  wrenched  away  from 
death  ]  But  is  not  sin  pardoned  through 
the  blood-shedding  of  Jesus  ;  and  is  not 
glory  secured  to  us  through  the  inter- 
cession of  Jesus  1  And  where  then  is 
the  tongue  bold  enough  to  deny,  that 
death  is  virtually  abolished  unto  those 
who  believe  on  "  the  resurrection  and 
the  life  1 "  Oh,  the  smile  can  rest  bright- 
ly on  a  dying  man's  cheek,  and  the  words 
of  rapture  can  flow  from  his  lips,  and 
his  eye  can  be  on  angel  forms  waiting 
to  take  charge  of  his  spirit,  and  his  ear 
can  catch  the  minstrelsy  of  cherubim  ; 
an,d  what  are  these  but  trophies — con- 
querors of  earth,  and  statesmen,  and  phi- 
losophers, can  ye  match  these  trophies  1 
— of   "  the  resurrection  and  the  life  1 " 

We  look  not,  indeed,  always  for  tri- 
umph and  rapture  on  the  death-beds 
of  the  rifrhteous.  We  hold  it  to  be 
wrong  to  expect,  necessarily,  encou- 
ragement for  ourselves  from  good  men 
in  the  act  of  dissolution.  They  require 
encouragement.  Christ,  when  in  his 
agony,  did  not  strengthen  others  :  he 
needed  an  angel  to  strengthen  himself. 
But  if  there  be  not  ecstasy,  there  is  that 
composedness,  in  departing  believers, 
which  shows  that  "  the  everlasting 
arms,"  Deut.  33  :  27,  are  under  them  and 
around  them.  It  is  a  beautiful  thinsr  to 
see  a  christian  die.  The  confession, 
whilst  there  is  strength  to  articulate, 
that  God  is  faithful  to  his  promises ; 
the  faint  pressure  of  the  hand,  giving 
the  same  testimony  when  the  tongue 
can  no  longer  do  its  ofiice  ;  the  motion 
of  the  lips,  inducing  you  to  bend  down, 
so  that  you  catch  broken  syllables  of 
expressions  such  as  this,  "  come.  Lord 
Jesus,  come  quickly  ;  "  these  make  the 
chamber  in  which  the  righteous  die 
one  of  the  most  privileged  scenes  upon 
earth  ;  and  he  who  can  be  present,  and 
gather  no  assurance  that  death  is  fet- 
tered and  manacled,  even  whilst  grasp- 
ing the  believer,  must  be  either  inacces- 
siljle  to  moral  evidence,  or  insensible 
to  the  most  heart-touching  appeal. 

One  after  another  is  withdrawn  from 
the  church  below,  and  heaven  is  gather- 
ing into  its  capacious  bosom  the  com- 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


pany  of  the  justified.  We  feel  our  loss, 
when  those  whose  experience  quali- 
fied them  to  teach,  and  whose  life  was 
a  sermon  to  a  neighborhood,  are  re- 
moved to  the  courts  of  the  church 
above.  But  we  "  sorrow  not,  even  as 
others  which  have  no  hope,"  1  Thess. 
4 :  13,  as  we  mark  the  breaches  which 
death  makes  on  the  right  hand  and 
on  the  left.  We  may,  indeed,  think 
that  "  the  righteous  is  taken  away  from 
the  evil  to  come,"  Isaiah,  57  :  1,  and 
that  we  ourselves  are  left  to  struggle 
through  approaching  days  of  fear  and 
perplexity.  Be  it  so.  We  are  not  alone. 
He  who  is  "  the  resurrection  and  the 
life"  leads  us  on  to  the  battle  and  the 
grave.  It  might  accord  better  with  our 
natural  feelings,  that  they  who  have  in- 
structed us  by  example,  and  cheered 
by  exhortation,  should  remain  to  coun- 
sel and  to  animate,  when  the  tide  of 
war  swells  highest,  and  the  voice  of 
blasphemy  is  loudest.  We  feel  that  we 
can  but  ill  spare  the  matured  piety  of 
the  veteran  Christian,  and  the  glowing 
devotion  of  younger  disciples.  Yet  we 
will  say  with  Asa,  when  there  came 
against  him  Zerah  the  Ethiopian,  with 
an  host  of  an  hundred  thousand  and  three 
hundred  chariots,  "  Lord,  it  is  nothing 
with  thee  to  help  whether  with  many, 
or  with  them  that  have  no  power ;  help 
us,  O  Lord  our  God,  for  we  rest  on  thee, 
and  in  thy  name  we  go  against  this 
multitude."  2  Chron.  14  :  11. 

"  The  resurrection  and  the  life,"  these 
are  thy  magnificent  titles,  Captain  of 
our  salvation !  And,  therefore,  we  com- 
mit to  thee  body  and  soul ;  for  thou 
hast  redeemed  both,  and  thou  wilt  ad- 
vance both  to  the  noblest  and  most 
splendid  of  portions.  Who  quails  and 
shrinks,  scared  by  the  despotism  of 
death  ?  Who  amongst  you  fears  the 
dashings  of  those  cold  black  waters 
which  roll  between  us  and  the  promised 
land]  Men  and  brethren,  gi-asp  your 
own  privileges.  Men  and  brethren, 
Christ  Jesus  has  "  abolished  death :" 
will  ye,  by  your  faithlessness,  throw 
strength  into  the  skeleton,  and  give 
back  empire  to  the  dethroned  and  de- 
stroyed 1  Yes,  "  the  resurrection  and 
the  life  "  "  abolished  death."  Ye  must 
indeed  die,  and  so  far  death  remains 
undestroyed.  But  if  the  terrible  be  de- 
stroyed when  it  can  no  longer  terrify, 
and  if  the  injurious  be  destroyed  when 


it  can  no  longer  injure ;  if  the  enemy 
be  abolished  when  it  does  the  work  of 
a  friend,  and  if  the  tyrant  be  abolished 
when  performing  the  offices  of  a  ser- 
vant;  if  the  repulsive  be  destroyed 
when  we  can  welcome  it,  and  if  the 
odious  be  destroyed  when  we  can  em- 
brace it ;  if  the  quicksand  be  abolished 
when  we  can  walk  it  and  sink  not ;  if 
the  fire  be  abolished  when  we  can  pass 
through  it  and  be  scorched  not ;  if  the 
poison  be  abolished  when  we  can  drink 
it  and  be  hurt  not ;  then  is  death  de- 
stroyed, then  is  death  abolished,  to  all 
who  believe  on  "  the  resurrection  and 
the  life ;"  and  the  noble  prophecy  is 
fulfilled  (bear  witness,  ye  groups  of  the 
ransomed,  bending  down  from  your 
high  citadel  of  triumph),  "O  Death,  I 
will  be  thy  plagues ;  O  Grave,  I  will  be 
thy  destruction."  Hosea,  13  :  14. 

"  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  " — oh, 
for  the  angel's  tongue  that  words  so 
beautiful  might  have  all  their  melodious- 
ness— "  saying  unto  me,  write,  blessed 
are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord 
from  henceforth  :  yea,  saith  the  Spirit, 
that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors, 
and  their  works  do  follow  them."  Rev. 
14  :  13.  It  is  yet  but  a  little  while,  and 
we  shall  be  delivered  from  the  burden 
and  the  conflict,  and,  with  all  those  who 
have  preceded  us  in  the  righteous  strug- 
gle, enjoy  the  deep  raptures  of  a  Media- 
tor's presence.  Then,  re-united  to  the 
friends  with  whom  we  took  sweet  coun- 
sel upon  earth,  we  shall  recount  our 
toil  only  to  heighten  our  ecstasy  ;  and 
call  to  mind  the  tug  and  the  din  of  war, 
only  that,  with  a  more  bounding  throb, 
and  a  richer  song,  we  may  feel  and 
celebrate  the  wonders  of  redemption. 
And  when  the  morning  of  the  first 
resurrection  breaks  on  this  lonsr-dis- 
ordered  and  groanmg  creation,  then 
shall  our  text  be  understood  in  all  its 
majesty,  and  in  all  its  marvel :  and  then 
shall  the  words,  whose  syllables  mingle 
so  often  with  the  funeral  knell  that  we 
are  disposed  to  cai-ve  them  on  the  cy- 
press-tree rather  than  on  the  palm,  *'  I 
am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  form 
the  chorus  of  that  noble  anthem,  which 
those  for  whom  Christ  "  died  and  rose 
and  revived,"  Rom.  14 :  9,  shall  chant 
as  they  march  from  judgment  to  glory. 

We  add  nothing  more.  We  show  you 
the  privileges  of  the  righteous.  We 
tell  you,   that  if  you  would  die  their 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


61 


death,  you  must  live  their  life.  And, 
conjuring  you,  by  the  memory  of  those 
who  have  gone  hence  in  the  faith  of 
the  Redeemer,  that  ye  "  run  with  pa- 
tience the  race  set  before  you,"  Heb. 
12  :  1,  we  send  you  to  your  homes  with 
the    comforting    words    which   succeed 


our  text,  "he  that  believeth  on  me, 
though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live ; 
and  whosoever  liveth  and  believeth 
in  me  shall  never  die  ;  believest  thou 
this  1  "  God  foi'bid  there  should  be  one 
of  you  refusing  to  answer  with  Martha, 
"  yea.  Lord,  yea." 


SERMON  VI. 


THE    POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS  AND  RIGHTEOUSNESS  TO  RE- 
PRODUCE THEMSELVES. 


"  For  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." — Gal.  vi.  7. 


You  may  be  all  aware  that  what  is 
termed  the  argument  from  analogy  has 
been  carried  out  to  great  length  by 
thinking  men,  and  that  much  of  the 
strongest  witness  for  Christianity  has 
been  won  on  this  field  of  investigation. 
It  is  altogether  a  most  curious  and  pro- 
fitable inquiry,  which  sets  itself  to  the 
tracing  out  resemblances  between  na- 
tural and  spiritual  things,  and  which 
thus  proposes  to  establish,  at  the  least, 
a  probability  that  creation  and  Chris- 
tianity have  one  and  the  same  author. 
And  we  think  that  we  shall  not  over- 
step the  limits  of  truth,  if  we  declare 
that  nature  wears  the  appearance  of 
having  been  actually  designed  for  the 
illustration  of  the  Bible.  We  believe  that 
he  who,  with  a  devout  mind,  searches 
most  diligently  into  the  beauties  and 
mysteries  of  the  material  world,  will 
find  himself  met  constantly  by  exhibi- 
tions, which  seem  to  him  the  pages  of 
Scripture  written  in  the  stars,  and  the 
forests,  and  the  waters,  of  this  creation. 
There  is  such  a  sameness  of  dealing, 
characteristic  of  the  natural  and  the 
spiritual,  that  the  Bible  may  be  read  in 
the  outspread  of  the  landscape,  and  the 
operations  of  agriculture  :  whilst,  con- 
versely, the  laws  obeyed  by  this  earth 


and  its  productions  may  be  traced  as 
pervading  the  appointments  of  revela- 
tion. It  were  beside  our  purpose  to  go 
at  length  into  demonstration  of  this 
coincidence.  But  you  may  all  perceive, 
assuming  its  existence,  that  the  fur- 
nished argument  is  clear  and  convinc- 
ing. If  there  run  the  same  principle 
through  natural  and  spiritual  things, 
through  the  book  of  nature  and  the  Bi- 
ble, we  vindicate  the  same  authorship 
to  both,  and  prove,  with  an  almost  geo- 
metric precision,  that  the  God  of  crea- 
tion is  also  the  God  of  Christianity,  I 
look  on  the  natural  firmament  with  its 
glorious  inlay  of  stars ;  and  it  is  unto 
me  as  the  breastplate  of  the  great  high- 
priest,  "  ardent  with  gems  oracular," 
from  which,  as  from  the  urim  and  thum- 
mim  on  Aaron's  ephod,  come  messa- 
ges full  of  divinity.  And  when  I  turn 
to  the  page  of  Scripture,  and  perceive 
the  nicest  resemblance  between  the 
characters  in  which  this  page  is  writ- 
ten, and  those  which  glitter  before  me 
on  the  crowded  concave,  I  feel  that,  in 
trusting  myself  to  the  declarations  of 
the  Bible,  I  cling  to  Him  who  speaks 
to  me  from  every  point,  and  by  every 
splendor  of  the  visible  universe,  whose 
voice  is  in  the    marchings  of  planets. 


62 


THE  POWER   OP  WICKEDNESS. 


and  the  rushing  of  whose   melodies  is 
in  the  wings  of  the  day-hght. 

But,  though  we  go  not  into  the  ge- 
neral inquiry,  we  take  one  great  prin- 
ciple, the  principle  of  a  resurrection, 
and  we  affirm,  in  illustration  of  what 
has  been  advanced,  that  it  runs  alike 
through  God's  natural  and  spiritual 
dealings.  Just  as  God  hath  appointed 
that  man's  body,  after  moldering  away, 
shall  come  forth  quickened  and  renew- 
ed, so  has  he  ordained  that  the  seed, 
after  corrupting  in  the  ground,  shall 
yield  a  harvest  of  the  like  kind  with 
itself.  It  is,  moreover,  God's  ordinary 
course  to  allow  an  apparent  destruction 
as  preparatory,  or  introductory  to,  com- 
plete success  or  renovation.  He  does 
not  permit  the  springing  up,  until  there 
has  been,  on  human  calculation,  a  tho- 
rough withering  away.  So  that  the 
maxim  miu:ht  be  shown  to  hold  univer- 
sally  good,  "  that  which  thou  sowest 
is  not  quickened,  except  it  die."  1  Cor. 
15  :  36.  We  may  observe  yet  further, 
that,  as  with  the  husbandman,  if  he  sow 
the  corn,  he  shall  reap  the  corn,  and  if 
he  sow  the  weed,  he  shall  reap  the 
weed ;  thus  with  myself  as  a  responsi- 
ble agent,  if  I  sow  the  coiTuptible,  I 
shall  reap  the  corruptible ;  and  if  I  sow 
the  imperishable,  I  shall  reap  the  im- 
perishable. The  seed  reproduces  itself. 
This  is  the  fact  in  reference  to  spiritual 
things,  on  which  we  would  fasten  your 
attention  ;  "  whatsoever  a  man  soweth, 
that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Now  we  are  all,  to  a  certain  extent, 
familiar  with  this  principle ;  for  it  is 
forced  on  our  notice  by  every-day  oc- 
currences. We  observe  that  a  disso- 
lute and  reckless  youth  is  ordinai-ily 
followed  by  a  premature  and  miserable 
old  age.  We  see  that  honesty  and  in- 
dustry win  commonly  comfort  and  re- 
spect ;  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  levity 
and  a  want  of  carefulness  produce  pau- 
perism and  disrepute.  And  yet  further, 
unless  we  go  over  to  the  ranks  of  infi- 
delity, we  cannot  question  that  a  course 
of  disobedience  to  God  is  earning  man's 
eternal  destruction ;  whilst,  through 
submission  to  the  revealed  will  of  his 
Master,  there  is  secured  admittance 
into  a  glorious  heritage.  We  are  thus 
aware  that  thex-e  runs  through  the  Crea- 
tor's dealings  with  our  race  the  prin- 
ciple of  an  identity,  or  sameness,  be- 
tween the  things  which  man  sows  and 


those  which  he  reaps.  But  we  think  it 
possible  that  we  may  have  contented 
ourselves  with  too  superficial  a  view  of 
this  principle ;  and  that,  through  not 
searching  into  what  may  be  termed  its 
philosophy,  we  allow  much  that  is  im- 
portant to  elude  observation.  The  seed 
sown  in  the  earth  goes  on,  as  it  were,  by 
a  sort  of  natural  process,  and  without  di- 
rect interference  from  God,  to  yield  seed 
of  the  same  description  with  itself.  And 
we  wish  it  well  observed,  whether  there 
be  not  in  spiritual  things  an  analogy  the 
most  perfect  to  what  thus  takes  place 
in  natural.  We  think  that,  upon  a  care- 
ful examination,  you  will  find  ground- 
work of  belief  that  the  simile  holds 
good  in  every  possible  respect :  so  that 
what  a  man  sows,  if  left  to  its  own  ve- 
getating powers,  will  yield,  naturally, 
a  harvest  of  its  own  kind  and  descrip- 
tion. 

We  shall  study  to  establish  this  point 
in  regard,  first,  to  the  present  scene  of 
probation  ;  and,  secondly,  to  the  future 
scene  of  recompense. 

We  begin  with  the  present  scene  of 
probation,  and  will  put  you  in  posses- 
sion of  the  exact  point  to  be  made  out, 
by  referring  you  to  the  instance  of  Pha- 
raoh. We  know  that  whilst  God  was 
acting  on  the  Egyptians  by  the  awful 
apparatus  of  plague  and  prodigy,  he  is 
often  said  to  have  hardened  Pharaoh's 
heart,  so  that  the  monarch  refused  to 
let  Israel  go.  And  it  is  a  great  ques- 
tion to  decide,  whether  God  actually 
interfered  to  strengthen  and  confinn  the 
obstinacy  of  Pharaoh,  or  only  left  the 
king  to  the  workings  of  his  own  heart, 
as  knowing  that  one  degree  of  unbe- 
lief would  generate  another  and  a 
stancher.  It  seems  to  us  at  vai-iance 
with  all  that  is  revealed  of  the  Creator, 
to  suppose  him  urging  on  the  wicked 
in  his  wickedness,  or  bringing  any  en- 
gine to  bear  on  the  ungodly  which  shall 
make  them  more  desperate  in  rebellion. 
God  willeth  not  the  death  of  any  sin- 
ner. And  though,  after  long  striving 
with  an  individual,  after  plying  him 
with  the  various  excitements  which  are 
best  calculated  to  stir  a  rational,  and 
agitate  an  immortal  being,  he  may  with- 
draw all  the  aids  of  tlie  Spirit,  and  so 
give  him  over  to  that  worst  of  all  ty- 
rants, himself;  yet  this,  we  contend, 
mast  be  the  extreme  thing  ever  done 
by  the    Almighty  to  man,    the  leaving 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


63 


him,  but  not  the  constraining  him,  to 
do  evil.   And  when,  therefore,  it  is  said 
that  God  hardened  Pharaoh's  heart,  and 
when  the  expression  is  repeated,  so  as 
to  mark  a  continued  and  on-going  har- 
dening, we  have  no  other  idea  of  the 
meaning,  than  that  God,  moved  by  the 
obstinacy  of  Pharaoh,  withdrew  from 
him,  gi-adually,  all  the  restraints  of  his 
grace  ;   and  that  as  these  restraints  were 
more  and  more  removed,  the  heart  of 
the  king  was  more  and  more  hardened. 
We  look  upon  the  instance  as  a  precise 
illustration  of  the  truth,  that  "  whatso- 
ever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap."     Pharaoh  sowed  obstinacy,  and 
Pharaoh  reaped  obstinacy.     The  seed 
was  put  into  the  soil;    and  there  was 
no  need,  any  more  than  with  the  grain 
of  com,  that  God  should  interfere  with 
any  new    power.     Nothing  more    was 
required  than  that  the  seed  should  be 
left  to  vegetate,  to  act  out  its  own  na- 
ture.    And  though  God,  had  he  pleased, 
might    have   counteracted   this  nature, 
yet,  when  he  resolved  to  give  up  Pha- 
raoh to  his  unbelief,  he  had  nothing  to 
do  but  to  let  alone  this  nature.      The 
seed  of  infidelity,  which   Pharaoh  had 
sown  when  he  rejected  the  first  miracles, 
was  left  to  itself,  and  to  its  own  vegeta- 
tion.    It  sent  up,  accordingly,  a  harvest 
of  its  own  kind,  a  han^est  of  infidelity, 
and  Pharaoh  was  not  to  be  persuaded 
by  any  of  the  subsequent  miracles.     So 
that,  when  the  monarch  went  on  from 
one  deoree  of  hardness  to  another,  till 
at  length,  advancing  through  the  cold 
ranks  of   tlie  prostrated    first-born,   he 
pursued,  across  a  blackened  and  devas- 
tated   territory,  the  people    for  whose 
emancipation  there  had  been  the  visible 
making  bare   of  the  arm  of  Omnipo- 
tence, he  was  not  an  instance — perish 
the  thought — of  a  man  compelled   by 
his   Maker  to  offend  and  be  lost ;  but 
simply  a  witness  to   the  truth  of  the 
principle,  that  "  whatsoever  a  man  sow- 
eth, that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Now  that  which  took  place  in  the 
case  of  this  Egyptian  is,  we  argue,  pre- 
cisely what  occurs  in  regard  generally 
to  the  impenitent.  God  destroys  no 
man.  Every  man  who  is  destroyed 
must  destroy  himself  When  a  man 
stifles  an  admonition  of  conscience,  he 
may  fairly  be  said  to  sow  the  stiflings 
of  conscience.  And  when  conscience 
admonishes  him  the  next  time,  it  will 


be  more  feebly  and  faintly.     There  will 
be  a  less  difficulty  in  overpowering  the 
admonition.     And  the  feebleness  of  re- 
monstrance, and  the  facility  of  resist- 
ance, will  increase  on  every  repetition ; 
not  because  God  interferes  to  make  the 
man  callous,  but  because  the  thing  sovm 
was   stifling  of  conscience,   and  there- 
fore the  thing  reaped  is  stifling  of  con- 
science.    The  Holy  Spirit  strives  with 
every  man.     Conscience  is  but  the  voice 
of  Deity  heard  above  the  din  of  hurnan 
passions.     But  let  conscience  be  resist- 
ed, and  the  Spirit  is  giieved.     Then,  as 
with  Pharaoh,  there  is  an  abstraction 
of  that  influence  by  which  evil  is  kept 
under.     And  thus  there  is    a  less  and 
less    counteraction    to    the    vegetating 
power   of  the    seed,    and,  therefore,  a 
more  and  more  abundant  upspringing 
of  that  which  was  sown.  So  that,  though 
there  must  be  a  direct  and  mighty  in- 
terference of  Deity  for  the  salvation  of  a 
man,  there  is  no  such  interference  for 
his    destruction.      God   must   sow   the 
seed  of  regeneration,  and  enable  man, 
according   to    the    phraseology    of  the 
verse  succeeding  our  text,  to  sow  "  to 
the  Spirit."     But  man  sows  for  himself 
the  seed  of  impenitence,  and  of  himself, 
"  he  soweth  to  his  flesh."     And  what  he 
sows,  he  reaps.     If,  as  he  grows  older, 
he  grow  more  confirmed  in  his  wicked- 
ness ;  if  wai-nings  come  upon  him  with 
less  and  less  energy;    if  the    solemni- 
ties of  the  judgment  lose  more  and  more 
their  power  of  alarming  him,  and  the 
terrors  of  hell  their  power  of  affrighting 
him ;  why,  the  man  is  nothing  else  but 
an  exhibition  of  the  thickening  of  the 
harvest    of  which   himself  sowed    the 
seed ;   and  he  puts  forth,  in  this  his  con- 
firmed and  settled  impenitence,  a  de- 
monstration,   legible   by  every    careful 
obsei-ver,  that  there  needs  no  apparatus 
for  the   turning  a  man  gradually  from 
the  clay  to  the  adamant,  over  and  above 
the  apparatus  of  his  own  heart,  left  to 
itself,  and  let  alone  to  harden. 

We  greatly  desire  that  you  should 
rio-htly  understand  what  the  agency  is 
through  which  the  soul  is  destroyed. 
It  is  not  that  God  hath  sent  out  a  de- 
cree ao-ainst  a  man.  It  is  not  that  he 
throws  a  darkness  before  his  eyes  which 
cannot  be  penetrated,  and  a  chillness 
into  his  blood  which  cannot  be  thawed, 
and  a  torpor  into  his  limbs  which  can- 
not be  overcome.     Harvest-time  bring- 


di 


THE  POWER  OP  WICKEDNESS. 


ing  an  abundant  produce  of  what  was 
sown  in  the  seed-time — this,  we  con- 
tend, is  the  sum-total  of  the  mystery. 
God  interferes  not,  as  it  were,  with  the 
processes  of  nature.  He  opposes  not, 
or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  he  with- 
draws gradually  his  opposition  to,  the 
vegetation  of  the  seed.  And  this  is  all. 
There  is  nothing  more  needed.  You 
resist  a  motion  of  the  Spirit.  Well  then, 
this  facilitates  further  resistance.  He 
who  has  resisted  once  will  have  less 
difficidty  in  resisting  the  second  time, 
and  less  than  that  the  third  time,  and 
less  than  that  the  fourth  time.  So  that 
there  comes  a  harvest  of  resistances, 
and  all  from  the  single  grain  of  the  first 
resistance.  You  indulge  yourself  once 
.in  a  known  sin.  Why  you  will  be  more 
^easily  overpowered  by  the  second  temp- 
tation, and  again  more  easily  by  the 
thii-d,  and  again  more  easily  by  the 
fourth.  And  what  is  this  but  a  harvest 
of  sinful  indulgences,  and  all  from  the 
one  grain  of  the  first  indulgence  1  You 
omit  some  portion  of  spiritual  exer- 
cises, of  prayei",  or  of  the  study  of  the 
word.  The  omission  will  grow  upon 
you.  You  will  omit  more  to-moiTow, 
and  more  the  next  day,  and  still  more 
the  next.  And  thus  there  will  be  a  har- 
vest of  omissions,  and  all  from  the  soli- 
tary grain  of  the  first  omission.  And 
if,  through  the  germinating  jiower  of 
that  which  man  sows,  he  proceed  natu- 
rally from  bad  to  worse;  if  resistance 
produce  resistance,  and  indulgence  in- 
dulgence, and  omission  omission  ;  shall 
it  be  denied  that  the  sinner,  throughout 
the  whole  history  of  his  experience, 
throughout  his  progress  across  the 
waste  of  worldliness  and  obduracy  and 
impenitence — passing  on,  as  he  does, 
to  successive  stages  of  indifference  to 
God,  and  fool-hardiness,  and  reckless- 
ness— is  nothing  else  but  the  mower  of 
the  fruits  of  his  owai  husbandry,  and 
thus  wtnesses,  with  a  power  which  out- 
does all  the  power  of  language,  that 
"  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall 
he  also  reap  1 " 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  we  go  into 
what  we  term  the  philosophy  of  our 
text,  when  applied  to  the  present  scene 
of  probation.  We  take  the  seed  in  the 
soil.  We  show  you  that,  by  a  natural 
process,  without  the  intcrfei'ence  of 
God,  and  simply  through  his  ceasing  to 
counteract  the  tendencies,  there  is  pro- 


duced a  wide  crop  of  the  same  grain  as 
was  sown.  And  thus — all  kinds  of  op- 
position to  God  propagating  themselves 
— he  who  becomes  wrought  up  into  an 
infidel  hardihood,  or  lulled  into  a  se- 
pulchral apathy,  is  nothing  but  the  sow- 
er living  on  to  be  the  reaper,  the  hus- 
bandman in  the  successive  stages  of  an 
agriculture,  wherein  the  ploughing,  and 
the  planting,  and  the  gathering,  are  all 
his  own  achievement  and  all  his  own 
destruction. 

Now  we  have  confined  ourselves  to 
the  supposition  that  the  thing  sown  is 
wickedness.  But  you  will  see  at  once, 
that,  with  a  mere  verbal  alteration, 
whatever  has  been  advanced  illustrates 
our  text  when  the  thing  sown  is  righ- 
teousness. If  a  man  resist  temptation, 
there  will  be  a  facility  of  resisting  ever 
augmenting  as  he  goes  on  with  self- 
denial.  Every  new  achievement  of 
principle  will  smooth  the  way  to  future 
achievements  of  the  like  kind ;  and  the 
fniit  of  each  moral  victory — for  we  may 
consider  the  victoi-y  as  a  seed  that  is 
sown — is  to  place  us  on  loftier  vantage- 
ground  for  the  triumphs  of  nghteous- 
ness  in  days  yet  to  come.  We  cannot 
perfonn  a  virtuous  act  without  gaining 
fresh  sinew  for  the  service  of  virtue; 
just  as  we  cannot  perform  a  vicious, 
without  riveting  faster  to  ourselves  the 
fetters  of  vice.  And,  assuredly,  if  there 
be  thus  such  a  growing  strength  in  ha- 
bit that  every  action  makes  way  for  its 
repetition,  we  may  declare  of  virtue 
and  righteousness  that  they  reproduce 
themselves  ;  and  is  not  this  the  same 
thing  as  proving  that  what  we  sow,  that 
also  do  we  reap  1 

We  would  yet  further  remark,  im- 
der  this  head  of  discourse,  that  the  prin- 
ciple of  reaping  what  we  sow  is  spe- 
cially to  ])e  traced  through  all  the  work- 
ings of  philanthropy.  We  arc  persuaded 
that,  if  an  eminently  charitable  man 
expenenced  great  reverse  of  circum- 
stances, so  that  from  having  been  the 
affluent  and  the  benefactor  he  became 
the  needy  and  dependent,  he  would  at- 
tract to\vards  himself  in  his  distress, 
all  the  sympathies  of  a  neighborhood. 
And  whilst  the  great  man,  who  had  had 
nothing  but  his  greatness  to  recom- 
mend him,  would  be  unpitietl  or  un- 
cared-for in  disaster ;  and  the  avari- 
cious man,  who  had  grasped  tightly 
his    wealth,  would    meet  only  ridicule 


THE  POWER  OP  WICKEDNESS. 


65 


when  it  had  escaped  from  his  hold  ; 
the  philanthropic  man,  who  had  used 
his  riches  as  a  steward,  would  form,  in 
his  penury,  a  sort  of  focus  for  the  kind- 
liness of  a  thousand  hearts  ;  and  multi- 
tudes would  press  forward  to  tender 
him  the  succor  which  he  had  once 
given  to  others  ;  and  thus  there  would 
be  a  mighty  reaping  into  his  own  gra- 
naries of  that  very  seed  which  he  had 
been  assiduous  in  sowing. 

We  sfo  on  to  observe  that  it  is  the 
marvellous  property  of  spiritual  things, 
though  we  can  scarcely  affirm  it  of  na- 
tural, that  the  effort  to  teach  them  to 
others,  gives  enlargement  to  our  own 
sphere  of  information.  We  are  per- 
suaded that  the  most  experienced  Chris- 
tian cannot  sit  down  with  the  neglected 
and  grossly  ignorant  laborer — nay,  not 
with  the  child  in  a  Sunday  or  infant- 
school — and  strive  to  explain  and  en- 
force the  great  truths  of  the  Bible,  with- 
out finding  his  own  views  of  the  Gospel 
amplified  and  cleared  through  this  en- 
gagement in  the  business  of  tuition. 
The  mere  trying  to  make  a  point  plain 
to  another,  will  oftentimes  make  it  far 
plainer  than  ever  to  ourselves.  In  illus- 
trating a  doctrine  of  Scripture,  in  en- 
deavorinsT  to  bring  it  down  to  the  level 
of  a  weak  or  undisciplined  understand- 
ing, you  will  find  that  doctrine  present- 
ing itself  to  your  own  minds  with  a 
new  power  and  unimagined  beauty ; 
and  though  you  may  have  read  the 
standard  writers  on  theology,  and  mas- 
tered the  essays  of  the  most  learned 
divines,  yet  shall  such  fresh  and  vigor- 
ous apprehensions  of  truth  be  derived 
often  from  the  effort  to  press  it  home 
on  the  intellect  and  conscience  of  the 
ignorant,  that  you  shall  pronounce  the 
cottage  of  the  untaught  peasant  your 
best  school-house,  and  the  questions 
even  of  a  child  your  most  searching 
catechisings  on  the  majestic  and  mys- 
terious things  of  our  faith.  And  as  you 
tell  over  to  the  poor  cottager  the  story 
of  the  incarnation  and  crucifixion,  and 
inform  him  of  the  nature  and  effects  of 
Adam's  apostacy;  or  even  find  your- 
self required  to  adduce  more  elemen- 
tary truths,  pressing  on  the  neglected 
man  the  being  of  a  God,  and  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul ;  oh,  it  shall  con- 
stnntly  occur  that  you  will  feel  a  keener 
fler.so  than  ever  of  the  preciousness  of 
Christ,  or  a  greater  awe  at  the  majes- 


ties of  Jehovah,  or  a  loftier  bounding 
of  spirit  at  the  thought  of  your  own 
deathlessness  :  and  if  you  feel  tempted 
to  count  it  strange  that  in  teaching 
another  you  teach  also  yourself,  and 
that  you  caiTy  away  from  your  inter- 
course with  the  mechanic,  or  the  child, 
such  an  accession  to  your  own  know- 
ledge, or  your  own  love,  as  shall  seem 
to  make  you  the  indebted  party,  and 
not  the  obliging  ;  then  you  have  only 
to  remember — and  the  remembrance 
will  sweep  away  surprise — that  it  is  a 
fixed  appointment  of  the  Almighty,  that 
"  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall 
he  also  reap." 

In  respect,  moreover,  to  alms-giving, 
we  may  assert  that  there  is  evidently 
such  a  present  advantage  in  communi- 
cating of  our  temporal  good  things, 
that  the  giver  becomes  the  receiver, 
and  thus  the  principle  under  review 
finds  a  fresh  illustration.  The  general 
comfort  and  security  of  society  depend 
so  greatly  on  the  well-being  of  the 
lower  orders,  that  the  rich  consult  most 
for  themselves  when  they  consult  most 
for  the  poor.  There  must  be  restless- 
ness and  anxiety  in  the  palace,  whilst 
misery  oppresses  the  great  mass  of  a 
population.  And  every  effort  to  increase 
the  happiness,  and  heighten  the  charac- 
ter of  the  poor,  will  tell  powerfully  on 
the  condition  of  those  by  whom  it  is 
made,  seeing  that  the  contentment  and 
good  order  of  the  peasantry  of  a  coun 
try  give  value  to  the  revenues  of  its 
nobles  and  merchants.  For  our  own 
part,  we  never  look  on  a  public  hospi- 
tal or  infirmary,  we  never  behold  the 
alms-houses  into  which  old  age  may  be 
received,  and  the  asylums  which  have 
been  thrown  up  on  all  sides  for  the 
widow  and  the  orphan,  without  feel- 
ing that,  however  generously  the  rich 
come  forward  to  the  relief  of  the  poor, 
they  advantage  themselves  whilst  pro- 
viding for  the  suffering  and  destitute. 
These  buildings,  which  are  the  best 
diadem  of  our  country,  not  only  bring 
blessings  on  the  land,  by  serving,  it 
may  be,  as  electrical  conductors  which 
turn  from  us  many  flashes  of  the  light- 
ning of  wrath ;  but,  being  as  centres 
whence  succors  are  sent  through  dis- 
tressed portions  of  our  community, 
they  are  fostering-places  of  kindly  dis- 
positions towards  the  wealthier  ranks; 
and  may,  therefore,  be  so  considered 
9 


m 


THE  POWER  OP  WICKEDNESS. 


as  structures  in  which  a  kingdom's 
prosperity  is  nursed,  that  tlie  fittest  in- 
scription over  their  gateways  would 
be  this,  "  whatsoever  a  man  soweth, 
that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Now  before  we  turn  to  the  second 
topic  of  discourse,  we  would  make  a 
close  application  of  some  of  our  fore- 
going statements.  You  perceive  the 
likelihood,  or  rather  the  certainty,  to 
be,  that  in  all  cases,  there  will  be  a 
self-propagating  power  in  evil,  so  that 
the  wrong  done  shall  be  parent  to  a 
line  of  misdoings.  We  have  shown  you, 
for  example,  that  to  stifle  a  conviction 
is  the  first  step  in  a  pathway  which 
leads  directly  to  stupefaction  of  con- 
science. And  we  desire  to  fasten  on 
this  fact,  and  so  to  exhibit  it  that  all 
may  discern  their  near  concernment 
therewith.  We  remai'k  that  men  will 
flock  in  crowds  to  the  public  preach- 
ing of  the  word,  though  the  master 
natural  passion,  whatsoever  it  be,  re- 
tain undisputed  the  lordship  of  their 
spirits.  And  this  passion  may  be  ava- 
rice, or  it  may  be  voluptuousness,  or 
ambition,  or  envy,  or  pride.  But,  how- 
ever characterized,  the  dominant  lust 
is  brought  into  the  sanctuary,  and  ex- 
posed, so  to  speak,  to  the  exorcisms  of 
the  preacher.  And  who  shall  say  what 
a  disturbing  force  the  sermon  will  of- 
tentimes put  forth  against  the  master- 
passion  ;  and  how  frequently  the  word 
of  the  living  God,  delivered  in  earnest- 
ness and  atfection,  shall  have  almost 
made  a  breach  in  the  strong-holds  of 
Satan  ]  Ay,  we  believe  that  often, 
when  a  minister,  gathering  himself  up 
in  the  strength  of  liis  master,  launches 
the  thunderbolts  of  truth  against  vice 
and  unrighteousness,  there  is  a  vast 
stirring  of  heart  through  the  listening 
assembly;  and  that  as  he  reasons  of 
"  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judg- 
ment to  come,"  Acts,  24 :  25,  though 
the  natural  ear  catch  no  sounds  of  anx- 
iety and  alarm,  attendant  angels,  who 
watch  the  workings  of  the  Gospel,  hear 
the  deep  beatings  of  many  souls,  and 
almost  start  at  the  bounding  throb  of 
aroused  and  agitated  spirits.  If  Satan 
ever  tremble  for  his  ascendency,  it  is 
when  the  preacher  has  riveted  the  at- 
tention of  the  unconverted  individual ; 
and,  after  describing  and  denouncing 
the  covetous,  or  pouiing  out  the  tor- 
rents of  his  speech  on  an  exhibition  of 


the  voluptuary,  or  exposing  the  mad- 
ness and  misery  of  the  proud,  comes 
down  on  that  individual  with  the  start- 
ling announcement,  "  thou  art  the  man." 
And  the  individual  goes  away  from  the 
sanctuary,  convinced  of  the  necessity 
of  subduing  the  master-passion  ;  and  he 
will  form,  and  for  a  while  act  upon,  the 
resolution  of  wrestling  against  pride, 
or  of  mortifying  lust,  or  of  renouncing 
avarice.  But  he  proceeds  in  his  own 
strength,  and,  having  no  consciousness 
of  the  inabilities  of  his  nature,  seeks 
not  to  God's  Spirit  for  assistance.  In 
a  little  time,  therefore,  all  the  impres- 
sion wears  away.  He  saw  only  the 
danger  of  sin  :  he  went  not  on  to  see 
its  vileness.  And  the  mind  soon  habi- 
tuates itself,  or  soon  grows  indifferent, 
to  the  contemplation  of  danger,  and, 
above  all,  when  perhaps  distant.  Hence 
the  man  will  return  quickly  to  his  old 
haunts.  And  whether  it  be  to  money- 
making  that  he  again  gives  himself,  or 
to  sensuality,  or  to  ambition,  he  will 
enter  on  the  pursuit  with  an  eagerness 
heightened  by  abstinence ;  and  thus  the 
result  shall  be  practically  the  same,  as 
though,  having  sown  moral  stupor,  he 
were  reaping  in  a  harvest  tremendous- 
ly luxuriant.  And,  oh,  if  the  man,  after 
this  renouncement,  and  restoration,  of 
the  master-passion,  come  again  to  the 
sanctuary ;  and  if  again  the  px"eacher 
denounce,  with  a  righteous  vehemence, 
every  working  of  ungodliness  ;  and  the 
fire  be  in  his  eye,  and  the  thunder  on 
his  tongue,  as  he  makes  a  stand  for 
God,  and  for  truth,  against  a  reckless 
and  semi-infidel  generation  ;  alas  !  the 
man  who  has  felt  convictions  and  sown 
their  stiflings,  will  be  more  inaccessible 
than  ever,  and  more  impervious.  He 
will  have  been  hardened  thi'ough  the 
vegetating  process  which  has  gone  on 
in  his  soul.  A  far  mightier  apparatus 
than  befoi'e  will  be  required  to  make 
the  lightest  impression.  And  when  you 
think  that  there  the  man  is  now  sitting, 
unmoved  by  the  terrors  of  the  word ; 
that  he  can  listen  with  indifference  to 
the  very  truths  which  once  agitated 
him ;  and  that,  as  a  consequence  on  the 
reproduction  of  the  seed,  there  is  more 
of  the  mai'ble  in  his  composition  than 
before,  and  more  of  the  ice,  and  more 
of  the  iron,  so  that  the  likelihood  of 
salvation  is  fearfully  diminished ;  ye 
can  need  no  other  warning  against  tri- 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


^ 


fling  with  convictions,  and  thus  mak- 
ing light  of  the  appointment,  that  "  what- 
soever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap." 

But  we  proposed  to  examine,  in  the 
second  place,  the  application  of  the 
principle  of  our  text  to  the  future  scene 
of  recompense.  There  can  be  no  ques- 
tion that  the  reference  of  the  apostle  is, 
specially,  to  the  retributions  of  another 
state  of  being.  The  present  life  is  em- 
phatically the  seed-time,  the  next  life 
the  harvest-time.  And  the  matter  we 
now  have  in  hand  is  the  ascertaining, 
whether  it  be  by  the  natural  process  of 
the  thing  sown  yielding  the  thing  reap- 
ed, that  sinfulness  here  shall  give  tor- 
ment hereafter. 

You  will  obsei've  that,  in  showing  the 
application  of  the  principle  under  re- 
view to  the  present  scene  of  probation, 
we  proved  that  the  utmost  which  God 
does  towards  confirming  a  man  in  im- 
penitence is  the  leaving  him  to  himself, 
the  withdrawing  from  him  gradually  the 
remonstrances  of  his  Spirit.  The  man 
is  literally  his  own  hardener,  and,  there- 
fore, literally  his  own  destroyer.  And 
we  now  inquire,  whether  or  no  he  will 
be  his  own  punisher  1  We  seem  requir- 
ed, if  we  would  maintain  rigidly  the 
principle  of  our  text,  to  suppose  that 
what  is  reaped  in  the  future  shall  be 
identical  with  what  is  sown  in  the  pre- 
sent. It  cannot  be  questioned  that  this 
is  a  fair  representation.  The  seed  re- 
produces itself  It  is  the  same  grain 
which  the  sower  scatters,  and  the  reap- 
er collects.  We  may,  therefore,  lay  it 
down  as  the  statement  of  our  text,  that 
what  is  reaped  in  the  next  life  shall  be 
literally  of  the  same  kind  with  what  is 
sown  in  this  life.  But  if  this  be  correct, 
it  must  follow  that  a  man's  sinfulness 
shall  be  a  man's  punishment.  And  there 
is  no  lack  of  scriptural  evidence  on  the 
side  of  the  opinion,  that  the  leaving  the 
wicked,  throughout  eternity,  to  their 
mutual  recriminations,  to  the  workings 
and  boilings  of  overwrought  passions, 
to  the  scorpion-sting  of  an  undying  re- 
morse, and  all  the  native  and  inborn 
agonies  of  vice — that  this,  without  the 
interference  of  a  divinely-sent  ministry 
of  vengeance,  may  make  that  pandemo- 
nium which  is  sketched  to  us  by  all 
that  is  terrible  and  ghastly  in  imagery  ; 
and  that  tormenting,  only  through  giv- 
ing up  the   sinner  to  be  his  own   tor- 


mentor, God  may  fulfil  all  the  ends  of 
a  retributive  etonomy,  awardino-  to 
wickedness  its  merited  condemnation, 
and  displaying  to  the  universe  the 
dreadfulness  of  rebellion. 

It  may  be,  we  say,  that  there  shall  be 
required  no  direct  interferences  on  the 
part  of  God.  It  may  be  that  the  Al- 
mighty shall  not  commission  an  aveng- 
ing train  to  goad  and  lacerate  the  lost. 
The  sinner  is  hardened  by  being  left  to 
himself;  and  may  it  not  be  that  the  sin- 
ner shall  be  punished  by  being  left  to 
himself?  We  think  assuredly  that  the 
passage  before  us  leads  straightway  to 
such  a  conclusion.  We  may  have  ha- 
bituated ourselves  to  the  idea  that  God 
shall  take,  as  it  were,  into  his  own 
hands  the  punishment  of  the  condemn- 
ed, and  that,  standing  over  them  as  the 
executioner  of  the  sentence,  he  will 
visit  body  and  soul  with  the  inflictions 
of  wrath.  But  it  consists  far  better 
with  the  character  of  God,  that  judg- 
ment should  be  viewed  as  the  natural 
produce  of  sinfulness,  so  that,  without 
any  divine  interference,  the  sinfulness 
will  generate  the  judgment.  Let  sin- 
fulness alone,  and  it  will  become  pun- 
ishment. Such  is,  probably,  the  true 
account  of  this  awful  matter.  The  thing 
reaped  is  the  thing  sown.  And  if  the 
thing  sown  be  sinfulness,  and  if  the 
thing  reaped  be  punishment,  then  the 
punishment,  after  all,  must  be  the  sin- 
fulness ;  and  that  fearful  apparatus  of 
torture  which  is  spoken  of  in  Scripture, 
the  apparatus  of  a  worm  that  dieth  not, 
and  of  a  fire  that  is  not  quenched ;  this 
may  be  just  a  man's  own  guilt,  the 
things  sown  in  this  mortal  life  sprung 
up  and  waving  in  an  immortal  hai-vest. 
We  think  this  a  point  of  great  moment. 
It  were  comparatively  little  to  say  of 
an  individual  who  sells  himself  to  work 
evil,  and  carries  it  with  a  high  hana 
and  a  brazen  front  against  the  Lord  of 
the  whole  earth,  that  he  shuts  himself 
up  to  a  certain  and  definite  destruction. 
The  thrilling  truth  is,  that,  in  working 
iniquity,  he  sows  for  himself  anguish. 
He  gives  not  way  to  a  new  desire,  he 
allows  not  a  fresh  victory  to  lust,  with- 
out multiplying  the  amount  of  final  tor- 
ment. By  every  excursion  of  passion, 
and  by  every  indulgence  of  an  unhal- 
lowed craving,  and  by  all  the  misdoings 
of  a  hardened  or  dissolute  life,  he  may 
be  literally  said  to  pour  into  the  grana- 


THE  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


ry  of  his  future  destinies  the  goads  and 
stings  which  shall  madden  his  spirit. 
He  lays  up  more  food  for  self-reproach. 
He  widens  the  field  over  which  thought 
will  pass  in  bitterness,  and  mow  down 
remorse.  He  teaches  the  worm  to  be 
ingenious  in  excruciating,  by  tasking 
his  wit  that  he  may  be  ingenious  in  sin- 
ning—  for  some  men,  as  the  prophet 
saith,  and  it  is  a  wonderful  expression 
— "  ai'e  wise  to  do  evil."  Jer.  4 :  22. 
And  thus,  his  iniquities  opening,  as  it 
were,  fresh  inlets  for  the  approaches  of 
vengeance,  with  the  growth  of  wicked- 
ness will  be  the  growth  of  punishment ; 
and  at  last  it  will  appear  that  his  resist- 
ance to  convictions,  his  neglect  of  op- 
portunities, and  his  determined  enslave- 
ment to  evil,  have  literally  worked  for 
him  "  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight "  of  despair. 

But  even  this  expresses  not  clearly 
and  fully  what  seems  taught  by  our 
text.  We  are  searching  for  an  identity, 
or  sameness,  between  what  is  sown  and 
what  is  reaped.  We,  therefore,  yet  fur- 
ther observe  that  it  may  not  be  need- 
ful that  a  material  rack  should  be  pre- 
pared for  the  body,  and  fiery  spirits 
gnaw  upon  the  soul.  It  may  not  be 
needful  that  the  Creator  should  appoint 
distinct  and  extraneous  arrangements 
for  torture.  Let  what  we  call  the  hus- 
bandry of  wickedness  go  forward;  let 
the  sinner  reap  what  the  sinner  has 
sown ;  and  there  is  a  harvest  of  anguish 
for  ever  to  be  gathered.  Who  discerns 
not  that  jDunishment  may  thus  be  sin- 
fulness, and  that,  therefore,  the  princi- 
ple of  our  text  may  hold  good,  to  the 
very  letter,  in  a  scene  of  retribution  ] 
A  man  "  sows  to  the  flesh : "  this  is  the 
apostle's  description  of  sinfulness.  He 
is  "  of  the  flesh  to  reap  corruption :  " 
this  is  his  description  of  punishment. 
He  "  sows  to  the  flesh  "  by  pampering 
the  lusts  of  the  flesh  ;  and  he  "  reaps  of 
the  flesh,"  when  these  pampered  lusts 
fall  on  him  with  fresh  cravings,  and  de- 
mand of  him  fresh  gratifications.  But 
suppose  this  reaping  continued  in  the 
next  life,  and  is  not  the  man  mowing 
down  a  harvest  of  agony  ?  Let  all  those 
passions  and  desires  which  it  has  been 
the  man's  business  upon  earth  to  in- 
dulge, huncrer  and  thirst  for  srratification 
hereafter,  and  will  ye  seek  elsewhere 
for  the  parched  tongue  beseeching 
firuitlessly  one  drop  of  water  1     Let  the 


envious  man  keep  his  envy,  and  the 
jealous  man  his  jealousy,  and  the  re- 
vengeful man  his  revengefulness ;  and 
each  has  a  worm  which  shall  eat  out 
everlastingly  the  very  core  of  his  soul. 
Let  the  miser  have  still  his  thoughts 
upon  gold,  and  the  drunkard  his  upon 
the  wine-cup,  and  the  sensualist  his  up- 
on voluptuousness  ;  and  a  fire-sheet  is 
round  each  which  shall  never  be  ex- 
tinguished. We  know  not  whether  it 
be  possible  to  conjure  up  a  more  terri- 
fic image  of  a  lost  man,  than  by  sup- 
posing him  everlastingly  preyed  upon 
by  the  master-lust  which  has  here  held 
him  in  bondage.  We  think  that  you 
have  before  you  the  spectacle  of  a  be- 
ing, hunted,  as  it  were,  by  a  never- 
weared  fiend,  when  you  imagine  that 
there  rages  in  the  licentious  and  profli- 
gate— only  wrought  into  a  fury  which 
has  no  parallel  upon  earth — that  very 
passion  which  it  was  the  concern  of  a 
life-time  to  indulge,  but  which  it  must 
now  be  the  employment  of  an  eternity 
to  deny.  We  are  persuaded  that  you 
reach  the  summit  of  all  that  is  tremen- 
dous in  conception,  when  you  suppose 
a  man  consigned  to  the  tyranny  of  a 
lust  which  cannot  be  conquered,  and 
which  cannot  be  gratified.  It  is,  liter- 
ally surrendering  him  to  a  worm  which 
dies  not,  to  a  fire  which  is  not  quenched. 
And  whilst  the  lust  does  the  part  of  a 
ceaseless  tormentor,  the  man,  unable 
longer  to  indulge  it,  will  writhe  in  re- 
morse at  having  endowed  it  with  sov- 
ereignty :  and  thus  there  will  go  on 
(though  not  in  our  power  to  conceive, 
and,  O  God,  grant  it  may  never  be  our 
lot  to  experience)  the  cravings  of  pas- 
sion with  the  self-reproachings  of  the 
soul;  and  the  torn  and  tossed  creature 
shall  for  ever  long  to  gratify  lust,  and 
for  ever  bewail  his  madness  in  gratify- 
ing it. 

Now  you  must  perceive  that  in  thus 
sketching  the  possible  nature  of  future 
i-etribution,  we  only  show  that  "  what- 
soever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap."  We  prove  that  sinfulness  may 
be  punishment,  so  that  the  things  reaped 
shall  be  identical  with  the  things  sown, 
according  to  the  word  of  the  prophet 
Hosea,  "  they  have  sown  the  wind,  and 
they  shall  reap  the  whirlwind."  Hosea, 
S  :  7.  We  reckon  that  the  princi]ile  of 
our  text,  when  i-igidly  applied,  re(|aires 
us  to  suppose  the  retribution  of  the  un- 


THE  POWER  OP  WICKEDNESS. 


godly  the  natural  produce  of  their  ac- 
tions. It  shall  not,  perhaps,  be  that  God 
will  interpose  with  an  apparatus  of 
judgments,  any  more  than  he  now  in 
terposes  with  an  apparatus  for  harden- 
ing, or  confirming  in  impenitence.  In- 
difference, if  let  alone,  will  produce 
obduracy  ;  and  obduracy,  if  let  alone, 
will  produce  torment.  Obduracy  is  in- 
difference multiplied :  and  thus  it  is 
the  harvest  from  the  grain.  Torment 
is  obduracy  pei'petuated  and  bemoaned  : 
and  this  again  is  harvest — the  grain  re- 
produced, but  with  thorns  round  the 
ear.  Thus,  from  first  to  last,  "  whatso- 
ever a  man  soweth,  that  also  does  he 
reap."  We  should  be  disposed  to  plead 
for  the  sound  divinity,  as  well  as  the 
fine  poetry  of  words  which  Milton  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  Satan,  when  approach- 
ing to  the  survey  of  paradise.  "  Which 
way  I  fly  is  hell;  myself  am  hell." 
"  Myself  am  hell !  "  It  is  the  very  idea 
which  we  have  extracted  from  our  text ; 
the  idea  of  a  lost  creature  being  his 
own  tormentor,  his  own  place  of  tor- 
ment. There  shall  be  needed  no  reti- 
nue of  wrath  to  heap  on  the  fuel,  or 
tighten  the  rack,  or  sharpen  the  goad. 
He  cannot  escape  from  himself,  and 
himself  is  hell. 

We  would  add  that  our  text  is  not 
the  only  scriptural  passage  which  inti- 
mates that  sinfulness  shall  spring  up 
into  punishment,  exactly  as  the  seed 
sown  produces  the  harvest.  In  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  the 
eternal  wisdom  marks  out  in  terrible 
language  the  doom  of  the  scomers. 
"  I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity,  and 
mock  when  your  fear  cometh."  Prov. 
1 :  26.  And  then,  when  he  would  de- 
scribe their  exact  punishment,  he  says, 
"  they  shall  eat  of  the  fruit  of  their  own 
way,  and  be  filled  with  their  own  de- 
vices." Prov.  1 :  31.  They  reap,  you 
see,  what  they  sow  :  their  torments  are 
"  their  own  devices."  We  have  a  simi- 
lar expression  in  the  Book  of  Job : 
"  even  as  I  have  seen,  they  that  plough 
iniquity  and  sow  wickedness  reap  the 
same."  Job,  4 :  8.  Thus  again  in  the 
Book  of  Proverbs  :  "  the  backslider  in 
heart  shall  be  filled  with  his  own  ways." 
Prov.  14 :  14.  We  may  add  that  so- 
lemn verse  in  the  last  chapter  of  the 
Book  of  Revelation,  which  seems  to  us 
exactly  to  the  point.  It  is  spoken  in 
the  prospect  of  Christ's  immediate  ap- 


pearing. "  He  that  is  unjust  let  him  be 
unjust  still ;  and  he  which  is  filthy,  let 
him  be  filthy  still ;  and  he  that  is  righte- 
ous, let  him  be  righteous  still ;  and  he 
that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy  still."  Rev. 
22  :  11.  The  master-property  is  here 
represented  as  remaining  the  master- 
property.  The  unjust  continues  for 
ever  the  unjust ;  the  filthy  for  ever  the 
filthy.  So  that  the  indulged  principle, 
keeps  fast  its  ascendancy,  as  though, 
according  to  our  foregoing  supposition, 
it  is  to  become  the  toraienting  princi- 
ple. The  distinguishing  characteristic 
never  departs.  When  it  can  no  longer 
be  served  and  gratified  by  its  slave,  it 
wreaks  its  disappointment  tremendously 
on  its  victim. 

There  is  thus  a  precise  agreement 
between  our  text,  as  now  expounded, 
and  other  portions  of  the  Bible  which 
refer  to  the  same  topic.  We  have  in- 
deed, as  you  will  observe,  dealt  chiefly 
with  the  sowing  and  the  reaping  of  the 
wicked,  and  but  just  alluded  to  those 
of  the  righteous.  It  would  not,  how- 
ever, be  difficult  to  prove  to  you,  that, 
inasmuch  as  holiness  is  happiness,  god 
liness  shall  be  reward,  even  as  sinful 
ness  shall  be  punishment.  And  it 
clear  that  the  apostle  designed  to  in 
elude  both  cases  under  his  statement 
for  he  subjoins  as  its  illustration,  "  ha 
that  soweth  to  his  flesh,  shall  of  the 
flesh  reap  corruption ;  but  he  that  sow- 
eth to  the  Spirit  shall  of  the  Spirit  reap 
life  everlasting."  We  cannot  indeed 
plead,  in  the  second  case,  for  as  rigid 
an  application  of  the  principle  as  in  the 
first.  We  cannot  argue,  that  is,  for 
what  we  call  the  natural  process  of  ve- 
getation. There  must  be  constant  in- 
terferences on  the  part  of  Deity.  God 
himself,  rather  than  man,  is  the  sower. 
And  unless  God  were  continually  busy 
with  the  seed,  it  could  never  geiTni- 
nate,  and  send  up  a  haivest  of  glory. 
We  think  that  this  distinction  between 
the  cases  is  intimated  by  St.  Paul.  The 
one  man  sows  "  to  the  flesh  ;  "  himself 
the  husbandman,  himself  the  territory. 
The  other  sows  "  to  the  Spirit,"  to  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  and  here  there  is  a  su})er- 
induced  soil  which  differs  altogether 
from  the  natural.  But  if  there  be  not, 
in  each  case,  precisely  the  same,  there 
is  sufficient,  rigor  of  application  to  bear 
out  the  assertion  of  our  text.  We  re- 
member that  it  was  "  a  crown  of  righ- 


n 


THK  POWER  OF  WICKEDNESS. 


teousness,"  2  Tim.  4  :  8,  which  spar- 
kled before  St.  Paul ;  and  we  may, 
therefore,  believe,  that  the  righteous- 
ness which  God's  grace  has  nourished 
in  the  heart,  will  grow  into  recompense, 
just  as  the  wickedness,  in  which  the 
transgressor  has  indulged,  will  shoot 
into  torment.  So  that,  although  it  were 
easy  to  speak  at  greater  length  on  the 
case  of  true  believers,  we  may  lay  it 
down  as  a  demonstrated  truth,  whether 
respect  be  had  to  the  godly  or  the  dis- 
obedient of  the  earth,  that  "  whatso- 
ever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap." 

And  now,  what  mean  ye  to  reap  on 
that  grand  harvest-day,  the  day  of  judg- 
ment 1  Every  one  of  you  is  sowing  ei- 
ther to  the  flesh,  or  to  the  Spirit ;  and 
every  one  of  you  must,  hereafter,  take 
the  sickle  in  his  hand,  and  mow  down 
the  produce  of  his  husbandry.  We  will 
speak  no  longer  on  things  of  terror. 
We  have  said  enough  to  alarm  the  in- 
different. And  we  pray  God  that  the 
careless  amongst  you  may  find  these 
words  of  the  prophet  ringing  in  their 
ears,  when  they  lie  down  to  rest  this 
night,  "  the  harvest  is  passed,  the  sum- 
mer is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved."  Jer. 
8  :  20.  But,  ere  we  conclude,  we  would 
address  a  word  to  the  men  of  God,  and 
animate  them  to  the  toils  of  tillage  by 
the  hopes  of  reaping.  We  know  that 
it  is  with  much  opposition  from  in- 
dwelling corruption,  with  many  thwart- 
ings  from  Satan  and  your  evil  hearts, 
that  ye  prosecute  the  work  of  breaking 
up  your  fallow  ground,  and  sowing  to 
yourselves  in  righteousness.  Ye  have 
to  deal  with  a  stubborn  soil.  The  pro- 
phet Amos  asks,  "  shall  horses  run  upon 
the  rock,  will  one  plough  there  with 
oxen  ?"  Amos,  6  :  12.     Yet  this  is  pre- 


cisely what  you  have  to  do.  It  is  the 
rock,  "  the  heart  of  stone,"  which  you 
must  bring  into  cultivation.  Yet  be  ye 
not  dismayed.  Above  all  things,  pause 
not,  as  though  doubtful  whether  to  pro- 
secute a  labor  which  seems  to  grow 
as  it  is  performed.  "  No  man,  having 
put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  looking 
back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 
Luke,  9  :  62.  Rather  comfort  your- 
selves with  that  beautiful  declaration  of 
the  Psalmist,  "  they  that  sow  in  tears 
shall  reap  in  joy."  Psalm  126  :  5.  Ra- 
ther call  to  mind  the  saying  of  the  apos- 
tle, "  ye  are  God's  husbandry."  2  Cor. 
3:9.  It  is  God,  who,  by  his  Spirit, 
ploughs  the  ground,  and  sows  the  seed, 
and  imparts  the  influences  of  sun  and 
shower.  "  My  Father,"  said  Jesus,  "  is 
the  husbandman;"  John,  15:  1;  and 
can  ye  not  feel  assured  that  He  will 
give  the  increase  1  Look  ye  on  to  the 
harvest-time.  What,  though  the  winter 
be  dreary  and  long,  and  there  seem  no 
shooting  of  the  fig-tree  to  tell  you  that 
summer  is  nigh  1  Christ  shall  yet  speak 
to  his  church  in  that  loveliest  of  poe- 
try, "  Lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is 
over  and  gone,  the  flowers  appear  on 
the  earth,  the  time  of  the  singing  of 
birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  ihe  tur- 
tle is  heard  in  the  land."  Cant.  2  :  11, 
12.  Then  shall  be  the  harvest.  We 
cannot  tell  you  the  glory  of  the  things 
which  ye  shall  reap.  We  cannot  show 
you  the  wavings  of  the  golden  corn. 
But  this  we  know,  "  that  the  sufferings  of 
this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be 
compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be 
revealed  in  us  ;  "  Rom.  8  :  18  ;  and, 
therefore  bx-ethren,  beloved  in  the  Lord, 
"  be  ye  not  weary  in  well-doing,  for  in 
due  season  we  shall  reap,  if  we  faint 
not."  Gal.  6  :  9. 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


71 


SERMON  VII 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION  TO  STRENGTHEN  THE  HUMAN 

INTELLECT. 


«  The  entrance  of  thy  words  giveth  light;    it  giveth  understanding  to  the  simple."- 


' — PsAXM  cxix.  130. 


There   is    no   point   of  view   under 
which  the  Bible  can  be  surveyed,   and 
not  commend  itself  to  thinking  minds 
as    a    precious    and    wonderful    book. 
Travelling  down  to  us  across  the  waste 
of  far-off  centuries,   it  brings  the  his- 
tory  of  times    which    must    otherwise 
have  been  given  up  to  conjecture  and 
fable.     Instructing  us  as  to  the  creation 
of  the  magnificent  universe,  and  defin- 
ing  the  authorship  of  that  rich  furni- 
ture,   as  well   material  as   intellectual, 
with   which  this   universe  is  stored,    it 
delivers   our  minds   from  those  vague 
and  unsatisfying  theories  which  reason, 
imaided    in    her    searchings,    proposed 
with  respect  to  the  origin  of  all  things. 
Opening  up,  moreover,  a  sublime  and 
Himple   system  of  theology,  it  emanci- 
pates the  world  from  degrading  supet- 
Htitions,   which,    dishonoring   Deity  by 
the  representations  propounded  of  his 
character,  turn  vice  into  virtue,  and  so 
banish  what  is   praiseworthy  from  hu- 
man society. 

And  thus,  if  you  kept  out  of  sight 
the  more  important  ends  subserved  by 
the  disclosures  of  the  Bible,  there  would 
be  no  single  gift  for  which  men  stood 
so  indebted  to  the  Almighty  as  for  the 
revelation  of  himself  in  the  pages  of 
Scripture.  The  great  engine  of  civili- 
zation is  still  the  written  word  of  the 
Most  High.  And  if  you  visit  a  tribe  of 
our  race  in  the  lowest  depths  of  barba- 
rism, and  desire  to  bring  up  the  debased 
creatures,  and  place  them  on  their  just 
level  in  the  scale  of  existence,  it  is  not 
by  the  enactments  of  earthly  legisla- 
tion, any  more  than  by  the  tyrannizings 


of  earthly  might,  that  you  may  look  to 
bring  speedily  round  the  wished-for  re- 
sult.°  The  effective  machinery  is  Chris- 
tianity, and  Christianity  alone.  Propa- 
gate the  tenets  of  this  religion,  as  re- 
gistered in  the  Bible,  and  a  mighty  re- 
generation will  go  out  over  the  face  of 
the  long-degraded  community. 

We  need  hardly  appeal,  in  proof  of 
this  assertion,  to  the  records  of  the  ef- 
fects of  missionary  enterprise.     You  are 
all  aware,    that,   in  many    instances,    a 
great  change  has  been  wrought,  by  the 
labors  of  faithful  and  self-denying  men, 
on    the    savage    clans    amongst    which 
they  have  settled.     We  omit,  for  the 
present,    the    incalculable     advantages 
consequent    on     the     introduction     of 
Christianity,  when  another  state  of  be- 
ing is  brought  into  the  account.     We 
consider  men   simply  with    respect  to 
their  sojourning  upon  earth  ;    and  we 
contend   that   the    revolution,    effected 
in  temporal    aff"airs,   should    win,  even 
from  those   who   prize    not    its   disclo- 
sures in  regard  to  eternal,  the  warmest 
admiration  for  the   Bible.      There  has 
succeeded  to  lawlessness  and  violence 
the   beautiful   scenery   of    good   order 
and  peace.     The  rude  beings,  wont  to 
wander  to  and  fro,  alternately  the  prey 
and  the  scourge  of  neighboring  tribes, 
have  settled  down  to  the  quiet  occupa- 
tions of  industry  ;  and,  gathering  them- 
selves   into    villages,    and    plying    the 
business    of  handicraft  or  agriculture, 
have  presented  the   aspect  of  a    well- 
disciplined  society  in  exchange  for  that 
of  a  roving  and  piratical  horde.     And 
when  a  district  which  has  heretofore, 


7i*' 


THE   POWER  OP  RELIGION. 


both  morally  and  physically,  been  little 
better  than  a  desert,  puts  forth  in  all 
its  outspread  the  tokens  of  a  vigorous 
culture  ;  and  the  Sabbath-bell  summons 
from  scattered  cottages  a  smiling  popu- 
lation, linked  together  by  friendship, 
and  happy  in  all  the  sweetness  of  do- 
mestic charities,  why,  the  infidel  must 
be  something  less  than  a  man,  if,  with 
all  his  contempt  for  the  Bible  as  a  reve- 
lation fi-om  God,  he  refuse  to  admire  and 
esteem  it  as  a  noble  engine  for  uplifting 
humanity  from  its  deep  degradations. 

But  we  wish  rather  to  draw  off  your 
thoughts  from  what  the  Bible  has  done 
for  society  at  large,  and  to  fix  them  on 
what  it  effects  for  individuals.  It  fol- 
lows, of  course,  that,  since  society  is 
the  aggregate  of  individuals,  what  the 
Bible  does  for  the  mass  is  mainly  the 
sum  of  what  it  does  separately  for  the 
units.  An  effect  upon  society  pre-sup- 
poses  an  effect  on  its  component  mem- 
bers in  their  individual  capacities ;  it 
being  impossible  that  the  whole  should 
be  changed  except  by  the  change  of 
its  parts. 

Now  we  are  persuaded  that  there  is 
no  book,  by  the  perusal  of  which  the 
mind  is  so  much  strengthened,  and  so 
much  enlarged,  as  it  is  by  the  perusal  of 
the  Bible.  We  deal  not  yet  with  the  case 
of  the  man  who,  being  under  the  teach- 
ings of  God's  Spirit,  has  the  truths  of  re- 
velation opened  up  to  him  in  their  gigan- 
tic and  overwhelming  force.  We  shall 
come  afterwards  to  the  consideration 
of  the  circumstances  of  the  converted ; 
we  confine  ourselves,  for  the  present, 
to  those  of  the  unconverted.  We  re- 
quire nothing  but  an  admission  of  the 
truth  of  the  Scripture  ;  so  that  he  who 
reads  its  declarations  and  statements, 
receives  them  as  he  would  those  of  a 
writer  of  acknowledged  veracity.  And 
what  we  contend  is,  that  the  study  of 
the  Bible,  even  when  supposed  without 
influence  on  the  soul,  is  calculated,  far 
more  than  any  other  study,  to  enlarge 
the  mind  and  strengthen  the  intellect. 
There  is  nothing  so  likely  to  elevate, 
and  endow  with  new  vigor,  our  facul- 
ties, as  the  brincrino'  them  into  contact 
with  stupendous  truths,  and  the  setting 
them  to  grasp  and  measure  those  truths. 
If  the  human  mind  grow  dwarfish  and 
enfeebled,  it  is,  ordinarily,  because  left 
to  deal  with  common-place  facts,  and 
never  summoned  to  the  efibrt  of  taking 


the  span  and  altitude  of  broad  and  lofty 
disclosures.  The  understanding  will 
gradually  bring  itself  down  to  the  di- 
mensions of  the  matters  with  which 
alone  it  is  familiarized,  till,  having  long  ffl 
been  habituated  to  contracting  its  pow-  ' 
ers,  it  shall  well-nigh  lose  the  ability 
of  expanding  them. 

But  if  it  be  for  the  enlargement  of 
the  mind,  and  the  strengthening  of  its 
faculties,  that  acquaintance  should  be 
made  with  ponderous  and  far-spreading 
truths,  it  must  be  clear  that  knowledge 
of  the  Bible  outdoes  all  other  know- 
ledge in  bringing  round  such  result. 
We  deny  not  that  great  effects  may  be 
wrought  on  the  peasantry  of  a  land  by 
that  wondrous  diffusion  of  general  in- 
formation which  is  now  going  forward 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
press.  It  is  not  possible  that  our  penny 
magazines  should  be  carrying  to  the 
workshop  of  the  artisan,  and  the  cot- 
tage of  the  laborer,  an  actual  libiary 
of  varied  intelligence,  without  produc- 
ing an  universal  outsti-etch  of  mind, 
whether  for  good,  or  whether  for  evil. 
But  if  a  population  could  be  made  a 
Bible-reading  population,  we  argue  that 
it  would  be  made  a  far  more  think- 
ing, and  a  far  more  intelligent  popula- 
tion, than  it  will  ever  become  through 
the  turning  its  attention  on  simplified 
sciences  and  abbreviated  histories.  If 
I  desired  to  enlarge  a  man's  mind,  I 
should  like  to  fasten  it  on  the  truth  that 
God  never  had  beginning,  and  never 
shall  have  end.  I  would  set  it  to  the 
reteiving  this  truth,  and  to  the  grap- 
pling with  it.  I  know  that,  in  endea- 
voring to  comprehend  this  truth,  the 
mind  will  be  quickly  mastered ;  and 
that,  in  attempting  to  push  on  to  its 
boundary-lines,  it  will  fall  down,  wea- 
ried with  travel,  and  see  infinity  still 
stretching  beyond  it.  But  the  eftbrt 
will  have  been  a  grand  mental  disci- 
pline. And  he  who  has  looked  at  this 
discovery  of  God,  as  made  to  us  by  tlie 
word  of  inspiration,  is  likely  to  have 
come  away  from  the  contemplation  with 
his  faculties  elevated,  and  at  the  snme 
time,  humbled  ;  so  that  a  vigor,  allied 
in  no  degree  with  arrogance,  will  have 
been  generated  by  the  study  of  a  Bible 
truth  ;  and  the  man,  whilst  strengthen- 
ing his  mind  by  a  mighty  exercise,  will 
have  learned  the  hardest,  and  the  most 
useful,  of  all  lessons — that  intellect  is 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


73 


not  omnipotent,  and  that  the  greatest 
wisdom  may  be,  oftentimes,  the  know- 
ing ourselves  ignorant. 

We  are  not,  you  will  observe,  refer- 
ring to  the  Bible  as  containing  the  food 
of  the  soul,  and  as  teaching  man  what 
he  must  learn,  if  he  would  not  perish 
everlastingly.  •  We  are  simply  arguing, 
that  the  bringing  men  to  study  the  Bi- 
ble would  be  the  going  a  vast  deal  fur- 
ther towards  making  them  strong-mind- 
ed, and  intellectual,  than  the  dispersing 
amongst  them  treatises  on  all  the  sub- 
jects which  philosophy  embraces.  The 
Bible,  whilst  the  only  book  for  the  soul, 
is  the  best  book  for  the  intellect.  The 
sublimity  of  the  topics  of  which  it 
treats ;  the  dignified  simplicity  of  its 
manner  of  handling  them ;  the  noble- 
ness of  the  mysteries  which  it  deve- 
lopes ;  the  illumination  which  it  throws 
on  points  the  most  interesting  to  crea- 
tures conscious  of  immortality ;  all 
these  conspire  to  bring  round  a  result 
which  we  insist  upon  as  actual  and 
necessary,  namely,  that  the  man  who 
should  study  the  Bible,  and  not  be  be- 
nefited by  it  spiritually,  would  be  bene- 
fited by  it  intellectually.  We  think  that 
it  may  be  reckoned  amongst  incredible 
things,  that  converse  should  be  held 
with  the  first  parents  of  our  race ;  that 
man  should  stand  on  this  creation  whilst 
its  beauty  was  unsullied,  and  then  mark 
the  retinue  of  destruction  careering 
with  a  dominant  step  over  its  surface  ; 
that  he  should  be  admitted  to  inter- 
course with  patriarchs  and  prophets, 
and  move  through  scenes  peopled  with 
the  majesties  of  the  Eternal,  and  be- 
hold the  Godhead  himself  coming  down 
into  humanity,  and  working  out,  in  the 
mysterious  coalition,  the  discomfiture 
of  the  powers  of  darkness — oh,  we 
reckon  it,  we  say,  amongst  incredible 
things,  that  all  this  should  be  permit- 
ted to  a  man — as  it  is  permitted  to 
evgry  student  of  Scripture — and  yet 
that  he  should  not  come  back  from  the 
ennobling  associations  with  a  mind  a 
hundred-fold  more  expanded,  and  a 
hundred-fold  more  elevated,  than  if  he 
had  given  his  time  to  the  exploits  of 
Caesar,  or  poured  forth  his  attention  on 
the  results  of  machinery. 

We  speak  not  thus  in  any  disparage- 
ment of  the  present  unparalleled  eff'orts 
to  make  knowledge  accessible  to  all 
classes  of  our  community.     We  are  far 


enough  from  underrating  such  efforts  : 
and  we  hold,  unreservedly,  that  a  vast 
and  a  beneficial  effect  may  be  wrought 
amongst  the  poor  through  the  well-ap- 
plied agency  of  vigorous  instruction. 
In  the  mind  of  many  a  peasant,  whose 
every  moment  is  bestowed  on  wring- 
ing from  the  soil  a  scanty  subsistence, 
there  slumber  powers,  which,  had  they 
been  evolved  by  early  discipline,  would 
have  elevated  their  possessor  to  the  first 
rank  of  philosophers  ;  and  many  a  me- 
chanic, who  goes  patiently  the  round 
of  unvaried  toil,  is,  unconsciously,  the 
owner  of  faculties,  which,  nursed  and 
expanded  by  education,  would  have  en- 
abled him  to  electrify  senates,  and  to 
win  that  pre-eminence  which  men  a- 
ward  to  the  majesty  of  genius.  There 
arise  occasions,  when — peculiar  cir- 
cumstances aiding  the  development — 
the  pent-up  talent  struggles  loose  from 
the  trammels  of  pauperism ;  and  the 
peasant  and  mechanic,  through  a  sud- 
den outbreak  of  mind,  start  forward  to 
the  places  for  which  their  intellect  fits 
them.  But  ordinarily,  the  powers  re- 
main through  life  bound-up  and  torpid : 
and  he,  therefore,  forms  but  a  contract- 
ed estimate  of  the  amount  of  high  men- 
tal endowment,  who  reckons  by  the 
proud  marbles  which  cause  the  aisles 
of  a  cathedral  to  breathe  the  memory 
of  departed  greatness,  and  never  thinks, 
when  walking  the  village  church-yard 
with  its  rude  memorials  of  the  fathers 
of  the  valley,  that,  possibly,  there  sleeps 
beneath  his  feet  one  who,  if  early 
taught,  mi^-ht  have  trode  with  a  New- 
ton's  step  the  firmament,  or  swejjt  with 
a  Milton's  hand  the  harp-strings.  We 
make,  then,  every  admission  of  the 
power  which  there  is  in  cultivation  to 
enlarge  and  unfold  the  human  under- 
standing. We  nothing  question  that 
mental  capacities  are  equally  distribu- 
ted amongst  different  classes  of  socie- 
ty ;  and  that,  if  it  were  not  for  the  ad- 
ventitious circumstances  of  birth,  en- 
tailing the  advantages  of  educaticm, 
there  would  be  sent  out  from  the  lower, 
grades  the  same  proportion  as  from  the 
higher,  of  individuals  distinguished  by 
all  the  energies  of  talent. 

And  thus  believing  that  efforts  to  dis- 
seminate knowledge  may  cause  a  ge- 
neral calling  forth  of  the  mental  powers 
of  our  population,  we  have  no  other 
feeling  but  that  of  pleasure  in  the  sur- 
10 


74 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


vey  of  these  efforts.  It  is  indeed  pos- 
sible— and  of  this  we  have  our  fears — 
that,  by  sending  a  throng  of  pubhca- 
tions  to  the  fireside  of  the  cottager, 
you  may  draw  him  away  from  the  Bi- 
ble, which  has  heretofore  been  special- 
ly the  poor  man's  book,  and  thus  inflict 
upon  him,  as  we  think,  an  intellectual 
injury,  full  as  well  as  a  moral.  But,  in 
the  argument  now  in  hand,  we  only  up- 
hold the  superioi-ity  of  scriptural  know- 
ledge," as  compared  Avith  any  other, 
when  the  alone  object  proposed  is  that 
of  developing  and  improving  the  think- 
ing powers  of  mankind.  And  we  reck- 
on that  a  fine  triumph  might  be  won  for 
Christianity,  by  the  taking  two  illiterate 
individuals,  and  subjecting  them  to  two 
diiferent  processes  of  mental  discipline. 
Let  the  one  be  made  familiar  with  what 
is  styled  general  information ;  let  the 
other  be  confined  to  what  we  call  Bible 
information.  And  when,  in  each  case, 
tlie  process  has  gone  on  a  fair  portion 
of  time,  and  you  come  to  inquire  whose 
reasoning  faculties  had  been  most  im- 
proved, whose  mind  had  most  grown 
and  expanded  itself,  we  ai-e  persuaded 
that  the  scriptural  study  would  vastly 
carry  it  over  the  miscellaneous ;  and 
that  the  experiment  would  satisfactori- 
ly demonstrate,  that  no  knowledge  tells 
so  much  on  the  intellect  of  mankind  as 
that  which  is  furnished  by  the  records 
of  inspiration. 

And  if  the  grounds  of  this  persuasion 
be  demanded,  we  think  them  so  self- 
evident  as  scarcely  to  require  the  being 
formally  advanced.  We  say  again,  that 
if  you  keep  out  of  sight  the  concern 
which  man  has  in  Scriptural  truths,  re- 
garding him  as  born  for  eternity,  there 
is  a  gi'andeur  about  these  truths,  and  a 
splendor,  and  a  beauty,  which  must 
amaze  and  fas<jinate  him,  if  he  look  not 
beyond  the  present  era  of  existence. 
In  all  the  wide  range  of  sciences,  what 
science  is  there  comparable,  in  its  sub- 
limity and  difficulty,  to  the  science  of 
God  1  In  all  the  annals  of  humankind, 
what  history  is  there  so  curious,  and 
BO  riveting,  as  that  of  the  infancy  of 
man,  the  cradling,  so  to  speak,  of  the 
earth's  population'?  Where  will  you 
find  a  lawgiver  from  whose  edicts  may 
be  learned  a  nobler  jurisprudence  than 
is  exhibited  by  the  statute-book  of 
Moses  1  Whence  will  you  gather  such 
vivid,  illustrations  of  the  power  of  truth 


as  are  furnished  by  the  march  of  Chris- 
tianity, when  apdfetles  stood  alone,  and 
a  whole  world  was  against  them  1  And 
if  there  be  no  book  which  treats  of  a 
loftier  science,  and  none  which  con- 
tains a  more  interesting  history,  and 
none  which  more  thoroughly  discloses 
the  principles  of  right  an"d  the  prowess 
of  truth  ;  why  then,  just  so  far  as  men- 
tal improvement  can  be  proved  depend- 
ent on  acquaintance  with  scientific  mat- 
ters, or  historical,  or  legal,  or  ethical, 
the  Bible,  beyond  all  other  books,  must 
be  counted  the  grand  engine  for  achiev- 
ing that  improvement :  and  we  claim 
for  the  Holy  Scriptures  the  illustrious 
distinction,  that,  containing  whatsoever 
is  needful  for  saving  the  soul,  they  pre- 
sent also  whatsoever  is  best  calculated 
for  strengthening  the  intellect. 

Now  we  have  not  carried  on  our  ar- 
gument to  its  utmost  limit,  though  we 
have,  perhaps,  advanced  enough  for  the 
illustration  of  our  text.  We  might  oc- 
cupy your  attention  with  the  language, 
as  we  have  done  with  the  matter,  of 
holy  writ.  It  were  easy  to  show  you 
that  there  is  no  human  composition 
presenting,  in  anything  of  the  same  de- 
gree, the  majesty  of  oratory  and  the 
loveliness  of  poetry.  So  that  if  the  de- 
bate were  simply  on  the  best  means  of 
improving  the  taste  of  an  individual — 
others  might  commend  to  his  attention 
the  classic  page,  or  bring  forward  the 
standard  works  of  a  nation's  literature  ; 
but  we,  for  our  pai't,  would  chain  him 
down  to  the  study  of  Scripture ;  and 
we  would  tell  him,  that,  if  he  would 
learn  what  is  noble  verse,  he  must 
heai'ken  to  Isaiah  sweeping  the  chords 
to  Jerusalem's  glory ;  and  if  he  would 
know  what  is  powerful  eloquence,  he 
must  stand  by  St.  Paul  pleading  in  bonds 
at  Agi'ippa's  tribunal. 

It  suits  not  our  purpose  to  push  fur- 
ther this  inquiry.  But  we  think  it 
right  to  impress  on  you  most  earnett- 
ly  the  wonderful  fact,  that,  if  all  the 
books  in  the  wide  world  were  assem- 
bled together,  the  Bible  would  as  much 
take  the  lead  in  disciplining  the  un- 
derstanding, as  in  directing  the  soul. 
Living,  as  we  do,  in  days  when  intel- 
lectual and  scriptural  ai-e  set  down, 
practically,  as  opposite  terms,  and  it 
seems  admitted  as  an  axiom  that  to  ci- 
vilize and  christianize,  to  make  men  in- 
telligent and  to    make  men  religious, 


THE  POWER  OF  UELIGION. 


are  things  which  have  no  necessary, 
nor  evea  possible  connection,  it  is  well 
that  we  sometimes  revert  to  the  mat- 
ter-of-fact: and  whilst  every  stripling 
is  boasting  that  a  gi-eat  enlargement  of 
mind  is  coming  on  a  nation,  through 
the  pouring  into  all  its  dwellings  a 
tide  of  general  information,  it  is  right 
to  uphold  the  forgotten  position,  that 
in  caring  for  man  as  an  immortal  being, 
God  cai'ed  for  him  as  an  intellectual ; 
and  that,  if  the  Bible  were  but  read 
by  our  artisans  and  our  peasantry,  we 
should  be  surrounded  by  a  far  more 
enlightened  and  intelligent  population 
than  will  appear  on  this  land,  when  the 
school-master,  \\ath  his  countless  ma- 
gazines, shall  have  gone  through  it  in 
its  length  and  in  its  breadth. 

But  up  to  this  point  we  have  made 
no  direct  reference  to  those  words  of 
David  which  we  brought  forward  as 
the  subject  of  present  discourse.  Yet 
all  our  remarks  have  tended  to  their 
illustration.  The  Psalmist,  addressing 
himself  to  his  God,  declares,  "  the  en- 
trance of  thy  words  giveth  light,  it 
giveth  understanding  to  the  simple." 
Now  you  will  at  once  perceive,  that, 
when  taken  in  its  largest  signification, 
this  verse  ascribes  to  the  Bible  pre- 
cisely that  energy  for  which  we  have 
contended.  The  assertion  is,  that  the 
entrance  of  God's  word  gives  light, 
and  that  it  gives  also  understanding  to 
the  simple ;  whilst  it  has  been  our  en- 
deavor to  show  that  a  mind,  dark 
through  want  of  instruction,  or  weak 
through  its  powers  being  either  natu- 
rally poor,  or  long  unexercised,  would 
become  either  illuminated,  or  strength- 
ened, through  acquaintance  with  the 
contents  of  Scripture.  We  thus  vindi- 
cate the  truth  of  our  text,  when  reli- 
gion, properly  and  strictly  so  called,  is 
not  brought  into  the  account.  We 
prove  that  the  study  of  the  Bible,  when 
it  does  not  tei'minate  in  the  conversion 
of  the  soul,  will  terminate  in  the  clearing 
and  improvement  of  the  intellect.  So 
that  you  cannot  find  the  sense  where- 
in it  does  not  hold  good,  that  "  the  en- 
trance of  God's  words  giveth  light,  it 
giveth  understanding  to  the  simple." 

But  we  now  go  on  to  observe  that 
the  passage  applies  with  a  vastly  great- 
er force  to  the  converted  than  to  the 
unconverted.  We  will  employ  the  re- 
mainder of  our  time  in  examining   its 


truth,  when  the  student  of  Scripture  ia 
supposed  also  the  subject  of  grace.  It 
would  seem  as  though  this  case  were 
specially  contemplated  by  the  Psalm- 
ist, there  being  something  in  the  phra- 
seology which  loses  otherwise  much 
of  its  point.  The  expression  "  the  en- 
trance of  thy  words,"  appears  to  denote 
more  than  the  simple  perusal.  The 
light  breaks  out,  and  the  understanding 
is  communicated,  not  through  the  mere 
reading  of  thy  words,  but  through  "  the 
entrance  of  thy  words  :"  the  Bible  be- 
ing effective  only  as  its  truths  pierce, 
and  go  deeper  than  the  surface.  And 
although  it  must  be  readily  conceded 
that  the  mere  reading,  apart  from  the 
entrance  of  the  word,  can  effect  none 
of  those  results  which  we  have  already 
ascribed  to  the  Bible,  we  still  think  the 
chief  reference  must  be  to  an  entrance 
into  the  soul,  which  is  peculiar,  rather 
than  to  that  into  the  understanding, 
which  is  common.  AVe  may  also  remark 
that  the  marginal  reading  of  the  passage 
is  "  the  opening  of  thy  words  giveth 
light."  If  we  adopt  this  translation, 
which  is,  probably,  the  more  accurate 
of  the  two,  we  must  conclude  that  the 
Psalmist  speaks  of  the  word  as  inter- 
preted by  God's  Spirit*,  and  not  merely 
as  perused  by  the  student.  It  is  not 
the  word,  the  bare  letter,  which  gives 
the  light,  and  the  understanding,  spe- 
cially intended;  but  the  word,  as  open- 
ed, or  applied  by  the  Spirit.  Now,  in 
treating  the  text  in  this  its  more  limit- 
ed signification,  we  have  to  do,  first, 
with  a  fact,  and  secondly,  with  the  rea- 
sons of  that  fact.  The  fact  is,  that,  on 
conversion,  there  is  given  to  man  au 
increased  measure  of  understanding. 
The  reasons  of  this  fact  are  to  be  look- 
ed for  in  another  fact,  namely,  that 
conversion  results  from  the  entrance, 
or  opening,  of  God's  words.  It  will  be 
for  our  profit  that  we  consider  atten- 
tively both  the  fact  and  the  reasons. 
And,  first,  as  to  the  fact,  that,  on  be- 
coming a  man  of  godliness,  the  simple 
becomes  increasingly  a  man  of  under- 
standing. 

Now  it  is,  we  believe,  commonly  ob- 
served, by  those  who  set  themselves  to 
examine  the  effects  of  religion  upon 
different  characters,  that  a  general 
strengthening  of  the  mind  is  amongst 
the  usual  accompaniments  of  piety. 
The  instances,  indeed,  are  of  no  rare 


n 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


occurrence   in  which   a   mental  weak- 
ness,  bordering    almost  on    imbecility, 
has  been  succeeded  by  no  inconsider- 
able soundness  and  strength  of  under- 
standing.     The  case  has  come  within 
our  own  knowledge  of  an    individual, 
who,  before  conversion,  was  accounted, 
to  say  the  least,  of  very  limited  capa- 
cities ;  but  who,  after  conversion,  dis- 
played such  power  of  comprehending 
difficult    truths,    and    such    facility    in 
stating  them    to    others,    that    men    of 
stanch  and  well-informed  minds  sought 
intercourse  as  a  privilege.     Something 
of  the  same  kind  has  frequently  been 
observed  in  regard  to  children.       The 
grace  of  God  has  fallen,  like  the  warm 
sun  of  the  east,  on  their  mental  facul- 
ties ;  and,  ripening  them  into  the  rich- 
ness of  the  summer,    whilst  the  body 
had  as  yet  not  passed  through  its  spring- 
time, has  caused  that  grey  hairs  might 
be  instructed  by  the  tender  discipline, 
and  brought    a  neighborhood    round  a 
death-bed   to   learn    wisdom   from    the 
lips  of  a  youth.     And,  without  confining 
ourselves   to   instances   which    may  be 
reckoned    peculiar   and    extraordinary, 
we  would    assert  that,  in    all   cases,  a 
marked  change  passes  over  the  human 
mind  when  the  'heart    is  renewed    by 
the  influences  of  God's  Spirit.     We  are 
not  guilty  of  the  absurdity  of  maintain- 
ing that  there  are  supernaturally  com- 
municated any  of  those  stores  of  infor- 
mation which  are  ordinarily  gained  by 
a  patient  and  pains-taking  application. 
A  man  will  not  become  more  of  an  as- 
tronomer than  he  was  before,  nor  more 
of  a  chemist,  nor  more  of   a  linguist. 
He  will  have  no  greater  stock  of  know- 
ledge than  he  before  possessed  of  sub- 
jects which    most  occupy  the    learned 
of  his  fellows.     And  if  he  would  inform 
himself  in  such  subjects,  the  man  of  re- 
liorion  must   give  himself  to  the  same 
labor  as  the  man  of  no  religion,  and  sit 
down,  with  the  same  industry,  to  the 
treatise  and  the  grammar.      The  pea- 
sant, who  becomes  not  the  philosopher 
simply  because  his  mental  powers  have 
been  undisciplined,  will  not  leave  the 
plough  for  the  orrery,  because  his  un- 
derstanding  is  expanded   by   religion. 
Education  might  give,  whilst    religion 
will  not  give,  the  powers  the  philoso- 
phical bent.     But  there  is  a  wide  differ- 
ence  between    the    strengthening   the 
mind,  and  the  storing  it  with  informa- 


tion. We  may  plead  for  the  former 
effect  without  at  all  supposing  the  lat- 
ter :  though  we  shall  come  afterwards 
to  see  that  information  of  the  loftiest 
description  is  conveyed  through  the 
opening  of  the  Bible,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, if  the  impaitment  of  know- 
ledge be  an  improving  thing  to  the 
faculties,  an  improvement,  the  most 
marked,  must  result  from  conversion. 
But  we  confine  ourselves,  at  present, 
to  the  statement  of  a  fact.  We  assert 
that,  in  all  cases,  a  man  is  intellectual- 
ly, as  well  as  spiritually,  advantaged 
through  becoming  a  man  of  piety.  He 
will  have  a  clearer  and  less-biassed 
judgment.  His  views  will  be  wider,  hia 
estimates  mox'e  correct.  His  under- 
standing, having  been  exercised  on 
truths  the  most  stupendous,  will  be 
more  competent  for  the  examination 
of  what  is  difficult  or  obscure.  His  rea- 
son, having  learned  that  much  lies  be- 
yond her  province,  as  well  as  much 
within,  will  give  herself  to  inquiries 
with  greater  humility  and  greater  cau- 
tion, and  therefore,  almost  to  a  moral 
certainty,  with  greater  success.  And 
though  we  may  thus  seem  rather  to 
account  for  the  fact  than  to  prove  it, 
let  it  be  remembered  that  this  fact,  be- 
ing an  effect,  can  only  be  established, 
either  by  pointing  out  causes,  or  by 
appealing  to  experience.  The  appeal 
to  experience  is,  perhaps,  the  correcter 
mode  of  the  two.  And  we,  therefore, 
content  ourselves  with  saying,  that 
those  who  have  watched  character 
most  narrowly,  will  bear  out  the  state- 
ment, that  the  opening  of  God's  word  i 
is  followed,  ordinarily,  by  a  surprising  I 
opening  of  man's  faculties.  If  you  take 
the  rude  and  illiterate  laborer,  you  will 
find  that  regeneration  proves  to  him  a 
sort  of  intellectual  as  well  as  a  moral 
renovation.  There  shall  generally  be 
no  ploughman  in  the  village  who  is  so 
sound,  and  shrewd,  and  clear-headed  a 
man,  as  the  one  who  is  most  attentive 
to  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  And  if  an 
individual  have  heretofore  been  obtuse 
and  unintelligent,  let  him  be  converted, 
and  there  shall  hereafter  be  commonly 
a  quickness  and  animation  ;  so  that  re- 
ligion, whose  prime  business  it  is  to 
shed  light  upon  the  heart,  shall  appear, 
at  the  same  time,  to  have  thrown  fire 
into  the  eye.  We  do  not,  indeed,  as- 
sert that  genius  and  talent  are  imparted 


THE  POWER  OP  RELIGION. 


at  the  new  birth.  But  that  it  is  amongst 
the  diaracteristics  of  godliness,  that  it 
elevates  man  in  the  scale  of  intellec- 
tual being;  that  it  makes  him  a  more 
thinking,  and  a  more  inquiring,  and  a 
more  disciiminating  creature ;  that  it 
both  rectifies  and  strengthens  the  men- 
tal vision  ;  we  are  guilty  of  no  exagge- 
ration, if  we  contend  for  this  as  univer- 
sally true ;  and  this,  if  not  more  than 
this,  is  asserted  in  the  statement,  that 
"  the  entrance  of  God's  words  giveth 
lio^ht,  it  oiveth  understandinof  to  the 
simple." 

But  we  are  novv,  in  the  second  place, 
to  consider  certain  of  the  reasons  of 
this  fact.  What  is  there  in  the  entrance, 
or,  more  strictly,  in  the  opening  of 
God's  words,  which  may  faii-ly  account 
for  so  singular  a  result  1  We  begin  by 
reminding  you  that  the  entrance,  or 
opening  of  God's  word,  denotes  the 
application  of  scriptural  truth  to  the 
heart  and  conscience  by  that  Almighty 
agent,  the  Holy  Ghost.  Hence  a  sav- 
ing, influential,  belief  in  the  disclo- 
sures of  revelation  is  the  distinguish- 
ing property  of  the  individuals  refen-ed 
to  in  our  text.  And  in  inquiring,  there- 
fore, how  it  comes  to  pass  that  under- 
standing is  given  to  the  simple,  we  are 
to  proceed  on  the  supposition,  that  he 
is  endowed  with  real  faith  in  those 
mighty  truths  which  inspired  wi'iters 
were  commissioned  to  make  known. 
Thus  the  question  before  us  is  reduced 
to  this — what  connection  subsists  be- 
tween believing  in  the  heart  the  words 
of  God,  and  having  the  understanding 
enlightened  and  strengthened  ] 

Now  our  great  difficulty  is  not  in 
finding  an  answer  to  this  question,  but 
in  arranging  and  condensing  our  mate- 
rial of  reply.  We  would,  first,  remind 
you  that  the  truths  which  have  been 
commended  to  the  belief  are  the  most 
sublime'  and  spirit-stining  of  all  that 
can  engage  the  attention  of  mankind. 
They  are  the  truths  of  eternity,  and 
their  dimensions  correspond  with  their 
duration.  And  we  feel  that  there  must 
be  an  amazing  demand  upon  the  mind, 
when,  after  long  years  of  confinement 
to  the  petty  affairs  of  this  perishing 
state,  it  is  summoned  to  the  survey  of 
those  unmeasured  wonders  which  crowd 
the  platform  of  the  future.  I  take  a  man 
whose  attention  has  been  engrossed  by 
commerce,  and   whose   thoughts   have 


been  given  wholly  to  the  schemings 
and  workings  of  trade.  May  we  not 
affirm,  that,  when  the  grace  of  God 
takes  possession  of  this  man's  soul, 
there  will  occur  an  extraordinary  men- 
tal revolution ;  and  that,  too,  brought 
round  by  the  magnificence  of  the  sub- 
jects with  which  his  spirit  has  newly 
gTown  conversant  1  In  place  of  oceans 
which  can  be  fathomed,  and  Aveighed, 
and  measured,  there  is  an  expanse  be- 
fore him  without  a  shore.  In  place  of 
carrying  on  intercourse  with  none  but 
the  beings  of  his  own  race,  separated 
from  him  by  a  few  leagues  of  distance, 
he  sends  his  vessels,  as  it  were,  to 
lands  tenanted  by  the  creatures  of  a 
more  gloiious  intelligence,  and  they  re- 
turn to  him,  freighted  with  a  produce 
costlier,  and  brighter,  than  earthly  mer- 
chandise. In  place  of  acquaintance  with 
no  ledger  save  the  one  in  which  he 
casts  up  the  debtor  and  creditor  of  a 
few  fellow-worms,  there  rises  before 
him  the  vast  volume  of  doomsday,  and 
his  gazings  are  often  on  the  final  ba- 
lance-sheet of  the  human  population. 
And  we  simply  demand  whether  you 
think  it  possible,  that  there  should 
be  this  overpowering  accession  to  the 
objects  which  occupy  the  mind,  and 
yet  that  the  mind  itself  should  not 
grow,  and  enlarge,  and  strengthen  ] 
The  mind  which  deals  with  both  worlds 
cannot,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  so 
contracted  as  that  which  deals  only 
with  one.  Can  that  be  a  large  under- 
standing which  is  conversant  with  no- 
thing but  the  scenery  of  a  finite  exist- 
ence ;  or,  rather,  if  heretofore  the  un- 
derstanding have  grasped  nothing  but 
the  facts  of  an  hour  and  a  league,  and 
these  have  appeared  to  crowd  it  to  the 
full,  must  there  not  have  taken  place 
a  scarcely  measurable  enlargement,  if 
eternity  and  infinity  be  now  gathered 
within  its  spreadings  ?  Besides,  there 
will  be  a  sounder  and  more  correct 
judgment  upon  events  and  probabili- 
ties, when  reference  is  always  made  to 
the  first  cause,  than  when  regard  is  had 
only  to  second  causes.  There  will  be 
a  fairer  and  more  honest  deliberation, 
when  the  passions  are  under  the  sway 
of  divine  promises  and  threat enings, 
than  when  there  is  no  higher  restraint 
than  the  ill-defined  ones  of  human  ho- 
nor. So  that  it  would  seem  altogether 
to  be  expected,  that,  on  the  mere  ac- 


78 


THE  POWER  OF   RELIGION. 


count  of  the  might  and  vastness  of  the 
truths,   into    acquaintance    with    which 
the  mind  is  introduced,  the  mind  itself 
will  send  forth  latent  and  unsuspected 
powers,  or  even  shoot  up  into  a  new 
stature   which  shall    put    to  shame  its 
former  dwarfishness.     Thus  the  open- 
ing of  God's  words  is  accompanied,  or 
followed,  by  the  rousing  up  of  dormant 
energies.     The  sphere,  which  the  sand- 
grain  seemed  to  fill,  is  required  to  di- 
late, and  take  in  immensity.      The  arm 
which  plucked  a  leaf,  or  lifted  a  peb- 
ble, must  strive  to  wrench  up  the  oak, 
and  raise  the  mountain.     And  in  striv- 
ing it  strengthens.     The  mind,  employ- 
ed  on    what    is    great,    becomes    itself 
greater ;  busied  with  what  is  bright,  it 
becomes  itself  brighter.     Let  the  man, 
therefore,  have  been  even  of  weak  men- 
tal capacity — conversion  will  give  some- 
thincr  of  nerve  and  tone  to  that  capaci- 
ty.    Besides,  it  is  a  thing  worthy  your 
remark,  and  so  obvious  as  scarcely  to 
be  overlooked,  that  all  love,  except  the 
love  of  God,  reduces  and  contracts  the 
soul.     If  a  man  be  a  covetous  man,  fast- 
ening the  might  of  his  affections  upon 
money,  you  will  ordinarily  find  him,  in 
every  i-espect,  a  narrow-minded  being. 
His  intellect,  whatever  its  natural  ca- 
pacities, will  embrace  little  or  nothing 
beyond    modes    of    accumulation,^  and 
will    grow    practically  unable  to   over- 
pass the  circles  of  profit  and  loss.       It 
is   just   the  same,  if  a  man's  love  be 
fixed  on  reputation.     We  hold  it  impos- 
sible there   should  be  enlarged  views, 
whea  those  views  centre  in  one's  self 
There  may  be  lofty  and  far-spreading 
schemes ;    for  ambition   can  look  upon 
a   Avorld,   and    think    it    too    small    for 
its  marchings.      But  so  long  as   those 
schemes    are  schemes   for  the  aggran- 
dizement of  self,  they  may  take  a  crea- 
tion for  their  sphere,  and  yet  require  to 
be   described  as  pitiful  and  niggardly. 
It  is  no  mark  of  an  ample  mind  that  it 
can  be  filled  with  an  unit.     And  many 
a    philanthropist   laboring    quietly    and 
unobtrusively,  for    the  well-being  of  a 
solitary    parish,    or    neighborhood,  has 
thereby  proved  himself  a  larger-heart- 
ed and  a  larger-souled  creature  than  an 
Alexander,  boundless  in  his  graspings  ; 
and  that,  too,  upon  the  clear  and  straight- 


forward principle,  that  a  heart  which 
holds  only  one's-self,  is  a  narrower  and 
more  circumscribed  thing  than  another 
which  contains  a  multitude  of  our  fel- 
lows. The  truth  is,  that  all  objects  of 
love,  except  God,  are  smaller  than  the 
heart  itself  They  can  only  fill  the 
heart,  through  the  heart  being  contract- 
ed and  narrowed.  The  human  soul  was 
framed,  in  its  first  creation,  to  that 
wideness  as  to  be  capable  of  enjoying 
God,  though  not  of  fully  comprehend- 
ing him.  And  it  still  retains  so  much 
of  its  glorious  original,  that  "  all  other 
things  gather  it  in  and  straiten  it  from 
its  natural  size."  *  Whereas  the  love 
of  God  not  only  occupies  it  to  the  full, 
but,  inasmuch  as  in  its  broadest  en- 
largement it  is  still  infinitely  too  nar- 
row for  God,  this  love,  as  it  were, 
doth  stretch  and  expand  it,  enabling  it 
to  hold  more,  and  giving  it,  at  the  same 
time,  more  to  hold.  Thus,  since  the 
converted  man  loves  God,  and  this  new 
object  of  love  demands  amplitude  of 
dwelling,  we  contend  that,  as  a  conse- 
quence on  conversion,  there  will  be  ex- 
tension of  the  whole  mental  apparatus. 
And  if  you  find  the  man  hereafter,  as 
we  are  bold  to  say  you  will  find  him, 
exercising  a  correcter  judgment,  and 
displaying  a  shrewder  sense,  than  had 
beforetime  seemed  in  his  possession, 
you  have  only  to  advance,  in  explana- 
tion of  the  phenomenon,  that  "  the  en- 
trance of  God's  word  giveth  under- 
standing to  the  simple." 

But  we  may  state  yet  more  strongly, 
and  also  multiply  our  reasons,  why, 
on  becoming  religious,  the  simple  man 
should  become  more  a  man  of  under- 
standing. Let  it  just  be  considered  that 
man,  whilst  left  in  his  state  of  natural 
coiTuption,  is  a  being,  in  every  respect, 
disorganized.  Under  no  point  of  view 
is  he  the  creature  that  he  was,  as  fash- 
ioned, originally,  after  the  image  of  his 
Maker.  He  can  no  longer  act  out  any 
of  the  great  ends  of  his  creation  :  a 
total  disability  of  loving  and  obeying 
the  Almighty  having  been  fastened  on 
him  by  his  forefather's  apostacy.'  And 
when  this  degraded  and  ruined  being  is 
subjected  to  the  saving  operations  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  he  is  said  to  be  re- 
newed, or    remodelled,  after  the  long- 


*  Leiffhton. 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


79 


lost  resemblance.  The  conscience  be- 
comes disquieted ;  and  this  is  convic- 
tion. The  heart  and  its  affections  are 
given  back  to  God ;  and  this  is  con- 
version. Now  we  do  not  say,  that,  by 
this  great  moral  renovation,  the  inju- 
ries which  the  fall  caused  to  the  human 
intellect  are  necessarily  repaired.  Ne- 
vertheless, we  shall  assert  that  the  mo- 
ral improvement  is  just  calculated  to 
bring  about  an  intellectual.  You  all 
know  how  intimately  mind  and  body 
are  associated.  One  plays  wonderfully 
on  the  other,  so  that  disease  of  body 
tnay  often  be  traced  to  gloom  of  mind, 
and  conversely,  gloom  of  mind  be  prov- 
ed to  originate  in  disease  of  body.  And 
if  there  be  this  close  connection  between 
mental  and  corporeal,  shall  we  suppose 
there  is  none  between  mental  and  mo- 
ral ]  On  the  contrary  it  is  clear  that 
the  association,  as  before  hinted,  is  of 
the  strictest.  What  an  influence  do  the 
passions  exercise  upon  the  judgment ! 
How  is  the  voice  of  reason  drowned  in 
the  cry  of  impetuous  desires  !  To  what 
absurdities  will  the  understanding  give 
assent,  when  the  will  has  resolved  to 
take  up  their  advocacy  !  How  little  way 
can  truth  make  with  the  intellect,  when 
there  is  something  in  its  character 
which  opposes  the  inclination  !  And 
what  do  we  infer  from  these  undenia- 
ble facts  1  Simply,  that  whilst  the  mo- 
ral functions  are  disordered,  so  likewise 
must  be  the  mental.  Simply,  that  so 
long  as  the  heart  is  depraved  and  dis- 
turbed, the  mind,  in  a  certain  degree, 
must  itself  be  out  of  joint.  And  if  you 
would  give  the  mind  fair  play,  there 
must  be  applied  straightway  a  correc- 
tive process  to  the  heart.  You  cannot 
tell  what  a  man's  understanding  is,  so 
long  as  he  continues  "  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins."  Ephesians,  2  :  1.  There  is  a 
mountain  upon  it.  It  is  tyrannized  over 
by  lusts,  and  passions,  and  affections, 
and  appetites.  It  is  compelled  to  form 
wrong  estimates,  and  to  arrive  at  wrong 
conclusions.  It  is  not  allowed  to  re- 
ceive as  truth  what  the  carnal  nature 
has  an  interest  in  rejecting  as  false- 
hood. And  what  hope,  then,  is  there 
that  the  intellect  will  show  itself  what 
it  actually  is  1  It  may  be  gigantic,  when 
it  seems  only  puny  ;  respectable,  when 
it  passes  for  despicable.     And  thus  we 


bring  you  back  again  to  the  argument 
in  hand.  We  prove  to  you,  that  a  weak 
mind  may  be  so  connected  with  a  wick- 
ed heart,  that  to  act  on  the  wickedness 
would  be  going  far  towards  actinor  on 
the  weakness.  Oh,  fatal  downfall  of 
man's  first  parent — the  image  could  not 
be  shivered  in  its  moral  features,  and 
remain  untouched  in  its  intellectual. 
Well  has  it  been  said,  that  possibly 
"  Athens  was  but  the  rudiments  of  Pa- 
radise, and  an  Aristotle  only  the  rub- 
bish of  Adam."  *  But  if  there  be  a  mo- 
ral renovation,  there  will,  from  the 
connection  now  traced,  be  also,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  an  intellectual.  And  hence 
since  at  the  entrace  of  God's  words 
the  man  is  renewed  in  holiness,  we 
have  a  right  to  expect  that  he  will  also 
be  renewed  in  understanding.  If  addi- 
tional mental  capacity  be  not  given, 
what  he  before  possessed  is  allowed  to 
develope  itself;  and  this  is  practically 
the  same  as  though  there  were  a  fresh 
gift.  If  he  receive  not  actually  a  greater 
measure  of  understanding,  still,  inas- 
much as  the  stem  embargo  which  the 
heart  laid  on  the  intellect  is  mercifully 
removed,  he  is,  virtually,  under  the 
same  circumstances  as  if  a  new  por- 
tion were  bestowed.  Thus,  with  all 
the  precision  which  can  fairly  be  re- 
quired in  the  interpretation  of  such  a 
phrase,  we  pi'ove  that,  since  man  is 
elevated  in  the  scale  of  intelligence 
through  being  raised  from  his  moral 
degradation,  we  are  bound  to  conclude 
with  the  Psalmist,  that  "  the  entrance 
of  God's  words  giveth  light,  it  giveth 
understanding  to  the  simple." 

We  have  yet  one  more  reason  to  ad- 
vance, explanatory  of  the  connection 
which  we  set  ourselves  to  trace.  You 
obsei-ve  that  the  entrance,  or  the  ojDen- 
ing,  of  God's  words  denotes  such  an 
application  to  the  soul  of  the  truths  of 
revelation  that  they  become  influential 
on  the  life  and  conversation.  Now,  why 
should  a  man  who  lives  by  the  Bible  be, 
practically,  possessed  of  a  stronger  and 
clearer  understanding  than,  apparently, 
belonged  to  him  ere  this  rule  was  adopt- 
ed ?  The  answer  may  be  found  in  the 
facts,  that  it  is  a  believer's  duty,  when- 
soever he  lacks  wisdom,  to  ask  it  of 
God,  and  a  believer's  privilege,  never 
to  be  sent  away  empty.     In  all  those 


*  Dr.  South. 


80 


THE  POWER  OP  RELIGION. 


cases  which  require  the  exercise  of  a 
sound  discretion — which  present  oppo- 
site difficulties,  rendering  decision  on 
a  course  painfully  perplexing — who  is 
likely  to  display  the  soundest  judg- 
ment 1  the  man  who  acts  for  himself, 
or  another  who  seeks,  and  obtains,  di- 
rection from  above  'I  We  plead  not  for 
rash  and  unfounded  expectations  of  a 
divine  interference  on  our  behalf.  We 
simply  hold  fast  to  the  promises  of 
Scripture.  And  we  pronounce  it  to  be 
beyond  all  peradventure,  that,  if  the 
Bible  be  true,  it  is  also  true  that  they 
who  have  been  translated  from  dark- 
ness to  light  are  never  left  without  the 
aids  of  God's  Spirit,  unless  they  seek 
not  those  aids,  or  seek  them  not  ear- 
nestly and  faithfully.  If  I  have  known 
the  entrance,  or  the  opening  of  the  word 
of  our  God,  then  I  have  practically 
learned  such  lessons  as  these :  "  lean 
not  to  thine  own  understanding;  "  "  in 
all  thy  ways  acknowledge  Him,  and  he 
shall  direct  thy  paths."  Prov.  3  :  5,  6. 
And  if  I  am  not  to  lean  to  mine  own 
understanding,  and  if  I  have  the  privi- 
lege of  being  directed  by  a  higher  than 
mine  own,  it  is  evident  that  I  occupy, 
practically,  the  position  of  one  to  whom 
has  been  given  an  increased  measure 
of  understanding ;  and  what,  conse- 
quently, is  to  prevent  the  simple  man, 
whose  rule  of  life  is  God's  word,  from 
acting  in  all  circumstances,  whether  or- 
dinary or  extraordinary,  with  such  pru- 
dence, and  discretion,  and  judgment, 
that  he  shall  make  good,  to  the  very 
letter,  the  assertion,  that  "  the  entrance 
of  God's  words  giveth  light,  it  giveth 
understanding  to  the  simple  1  " 

Now  it  is  not  possible  to  gather  into 
a  single  discourse  the  varied  reasons 
which  might  be  given  for  the  fact  un- 
der review.  But  the  causes  already 
adduced  will  serve  to  show,  that  the 
fact  is,  at  least,  by  no  means  unaccount- 
able :  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  the 
connection  is  so  necessary  between 
spii-itual  impi'ovement  and  intellectual, 
that  amongst  the  accompaniments  of  a 
renewed  heart,  we  may  justly  reckon  a 
clearer  head. 

We  desire,  in  conclusion,  to  press 
upon  you  once  more  the  worth  of  the 
Bible,  and  then  to  wind  up  our  subject 
with  a  word  of  exhortation. 

Of  all  the  boons  which  God  has  be- 
stowed on  this  apostate   and  orphaned 


creation,  we  are  bound  to  say  that  the 
Bible  is  the  noblest  and  most  precious. 
We  bring  not  into  comparison  with  this 
illustrious  donation  the  glorious  sun- 
light, nor  the  rich  sustenance  which  is 
poured  forth  from  the  store-houses  of 
the  earth,  nor  that  existence  itself  which 
allows  us,  though  dust,  to  soar  into 
companionship  with  angels.  The  Bible 
is  the  developement  of  man's  immor- 
tality, the  guide  which  informs  how  he 
may  move  off  triumphantly  from  a  con- 
tracted and  temporary  scene,  and  grasp 
destinies  of  unbounded  splendor,  eter- 
nity his  life-time  and  infinity  his  home. 
It  is  the  record  which  tells  us  that  this 
rebellious  section  of  God's  unlimited 
empire  is  not  excluded  from  our  Ma- 
ker's compassions ;  but  that  the  crea- 
tui'es  who  move  upon  its  surface,  though 
they  have  basely  sepulchred  in  sinful- 
ness and  corruption  the  magnificence 
of  their  nature,  are  yet  so  dear  in  their 
ruin  to  Him  who  first  formed  them,  that 
he  hath  bowed  down  the  heavens  in  or- 
der to  open  their  graves.  Oh,  you  have 
only  to  think  what  a  change  would  pass 
on  the  aspect  of  our  race,  if  the  Bible 
wei'e  suddenly  withdrawn,  and  all  re- 
membrance of  it  swept  away,  and  you 
arrive  at  some  faint  notion  of  the  worth 
of  the  volume.  Take  from  Christendom 
the  Bible,  and  you  haTo  taken  the  moral 
chart  by  which  alone  its  population  can 
be  guided.  Ignorant  of  the  nature  of 
God,  and  only  guessing  at  their  own 
immortality,  the  tens  of  thousands 
would  bo  as  mariners,  tossed  on  a  wide 
ocean,  without  a  pole-star,  and  without 
a  compass.  It  were  to  mantle  the  earth 
with  a  more  than  Egyptian  darkness  : 
it  were  to  dry  up  the  fountains  of  hu- 
man happiness  :  it  were  to  take  the 
tides  from  our  waters,  and  leave  them 
stagnant,  and  the  stars  from  our  hea- 
vens, and  leave  them  in  sackcloth,  and 
the  verdure  from  our  valleys,  and  leave 
them  in  barrenness  :  it  were  to  make 
the  present  all  recklessness  and  the 
future  all  hopelessness — the  maniac's 
revelry  and  then  the  fiend's  imprison- 
ment— if  you  could  annihilate  that  pre- 
cious volume  which  tells  us  of  God  and 
of  Christ,  and  unveils  immortality,  and 
insti-ucts  in  duty,  and  woos  to  glory. 
Such  is  the  Bible.  Prize  ye  it,  and  stu- 
dy it  more  and  more.  Prize  it,  as  ye 
are  immortal  beings — for  it  guides  to 
the  New  Jerusalem.     Prize  it,  as  ye  are 


THE  POWER  OP  RELIGION. 


intellectual  beings — for  it  "  giveth  un- 
derstanding to  the  simple.  " 

We  have  now  only  space  for  a  brief 
word  of  exhortation,  and  we  ask  for  it 
your  closest  attention.  A  minister,  if 
he  would  be  faithful  to  his  calling,  must 
mark  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  endea- 
vor so  to  shape  his  addresses  that  they 
may  meet,  and  expose,  the  prominent 
errors.  Now  we  think  that,  in  our  own 
day,  there  is  a  strong  disposition  to  put 
aside  the  Bible,  and  to  seek  out  other 
agency  for  accomplishing  results  which 
God  hath  appointed  it  to  effect.  We 
fear,  for  example,  that  the  intellectual 
benefits  of  Scriptural  knowledge  are 
well-nigh  entirely  overlooked  ;  and  tbat, 
in  the  efforts  to  raise  the  standard  of 
mind,  there  is  little  or  no  recognition 
of  the  mighty  principle,  that  the  Bible 
outweighs  ten  thousand  Encyclopaedias. 
And  we  are  fearful  on  your  account, 
lest  something  of  this  national  substi- 
tution of  human  literature  for  divine 
should  gain  footing  in  your  households. 
We  fear  lest,  in  the  business  of  educa- 
tion, you  should  separate  broadly  that 
teaching  which  has  to  do  with  the  sal- 
vation of  the  soul,  from  that  which  has 
to  do  with  the  improvement  of  the 
mind.  We  refer  to  this  point,  because 
we  think  ourselves  bound,  by  the  vows 
of  our  calling,  to  take  every  opportunity 
of  stating  the  duties  which  devolve  on 
you  as  parents  or  guardians.  There  is 
a  sense  in  which  it  may  be  affirmed  that 
souls,  those  mysterious  and  imperish- 
able things,  are  given  into  the  custody 
of  every  father  of  a  family.  And  we  are 
persuaded  that  if  there  be  one  thing  on 
this  earth,  which  draws,  more  than  an- 
other, the  son-owing  regards  of  the 
world  of  spirits,  it  must  be  the  system 
of  education  pursued  by  the  generality 
of  parents.  The  entering  a  room  grace- 
fully is  a  vast  deal  more  attended  to 
than  the  entering  into  heaven  ;  and  you 
would  conclude  that  the  grand  thing 
for  which  God  had  sent  the  child  into 
the  world,  was  that  it  might  catch  the 
Italian  accent,  and  be  quite  at  home  in 
every  note  of  the  gamut.  Christianity, 
indeed,  is  not  at  variance  with  the  ele- 
gancies of  life  :  she  can  use  them  as 
her  handmaids,  and  give  them  a  beauty 
of  which,  out  of  her  service,  they  are  ut- 
terly destitute.  We  wage  no  war,  there- 
fore, With  accomplishments,  any  more 
than  with  the  solid   acquirements  of  a 


liberal  education.     We  are  only  anxious 
to  press   on  you   the  necessity  that  ye 
make  religion  the  basis  of  your  system. 
We  admit,  in  all  its  breadth,  the  truth 
of  the  saying,  that  knowledge  is  power. 
It  is  power — ay,  a  fatal  and  a  perilous. 
Neither  the   might  of  armies,  nor  the 
scheming  of  politicians,  avails  any  thing 
against  this  power.     The  school-master, 
as  we  have  already  hinted,  is  the  grand 
engine    for    revolutionizing    a    world. 
Let    knowledge    be  generally  diffused, 
and  the  fear  of  God  be  kept  in  the  back- 
ground, and   you  have  done  the  same 
for  a   country  as  if  you  had  laid   the 
gunpowder  under  its  every  institution  : 
there  needs  only  the  igniting  of  a  match, 
and  the  laud  shall  be  strewed  with  the 
fragments  of  all  that   is    glorious    and 
venerable.     But,  nevertheless,  we  would 
not  have  knowledge  chained  up  in  the 
college  and  monastery,  because  its  arm 
is  endowed  with  such  sinew  and  nerve. 
We  would  not  put  forth  a  finger  to  up- 
hold a  system  which  we  believed  based 
on  the  ignorance  of  a  population.     We 
only  desire  to  see   knowledge  of  God 
advance  as  the  vanguard  of  the  host  of 
information.     We  are  sure  that  an  in- 
tellectual must  be  a  mighty  peasantry. 
But    we    are  equally  sure  that    an    in- 
tellectual, and    a  godless,  will  demon- 
strate   their    might,  by    the    ease   with 
which    they    crush    whatever   most    a- 
dorns  and  elevates   a  kingdom.      And 
in  speaking  to  you  individually  of  your 
duties  as  parents,  we  would  bring  into 
the    family  circle    the    principles    thus 
announced    as    applicable    to   the   na- 
tional.    We    want   not    to  set   bounds 
to    the    amount    of   knowledge    which 
you   strive   to  impart.      But   never  let 
this  remembrance  be  swept  from  your 
minds — that,  to  give  a  child  knowledge 
without  endeavoring,  at  the  same  time, 
to  add   to  knowledge    godliness,  is    to 
do    your    best    to    throw    the     momen- 
tum of  the  giant  into  the  arm  of  the 
idiot :  to  construct  a  machinery  which 
may  help  to  move  a  world,  and  to  leave 
out  the  spring  which  would  insure  its 
moving  it  only  towards  God.  We  would 
have  you  shun,  even  as  you  would  the 
tampering    with   an  immortality  depo- 
sited   in    your    keeping,    the    imitating 
what   goes   on   in    a   thousand   of  the 
households  of  a   professedly  Christian 
neighborhood — the    children    can    pro- 
nounce well,  and  they  can  step  well, 
11 


62 


THE  POWER  OF  RELIGION. 


and  they  can  play  well ;  the  mother 
proudly  exhibits  the  spechnens  of  pro- 
fiency  in  painting,  and  tlie  father 
dwells,  with  an  air  of  delight,  on  the 
progress  made  in  Virgil  and  Homer — 
but  if  you  inquire  how  far  these  parents 
are  j)r()viding  for  their  own  in  the  things 
of  eternity,  why,  the  children  have  per- 
haps learned  the  Church  Catechism, 
and  they  read  a  chapter  occasionally 
on  a  Sunday  afternoon.  And  that  ye 
may  avoid  the  mistake  into  which,  as 
we  think,  the  temper  of  the  times  is 
but  too  likely  to  lead  you,  we  would 
have  you  learn,  from  the  subject  which 
has  now  been  discussed,  that,  in  edu- 
cating your  children  for  the  next  life, 
you  best  educate  them  for  the  present. 
We  give  it  you,  as  a  truth,  made  known 
to  u.-j  by  God,  and,  at  the  same  time  de- 
mon.itrable  by  reason,  that,  in  going 
through  the  courses  of  Bible-instruc- 
tion, there  is  better  mental  discipline, 
whether  for  a  child  or  an  adult,  than  in 
any  of  the  cleverly  devised  methods  for 
ope;iing  and  strengthening  the  facul- 
ties. We  say  not  that  the  study  of 
Scripture  should  exclude  other  studies, 
or  be  substituted  for  them.  Natural 
philosophy  is  not  to  be  learned  from 
Scripture  nor  general  history;  and  we 
would  not  have  such  matters  neglected. 
But  we  say  that  Scriptural  study  should 
be,  at  once,  the  ground-work  and  com- 
panion of  every  other;  and  that  the 
mind  will  advance,  with  the  firmest  and 
most  domina,nt  step,  into  the  various 
departments  of  knowledge,  when  fami- 
liarized with  the  truths  of  revelation, 
and  accustomed  to  walk  their  unlimited 
spreadings.  If  parents  had  no  higher 
ambition  than  to  make  their  children  in- 
tellectual, they  would  act  most  shrewd- 


ly by  acting  as  though  desirous  to  make 
them  religious.  It  is  thus  we  apply  our 
subject  to  those  amongst  you  who  are 
parents  or  guardians.  But  it  applies  to 
all.  We  call  upon  you  all  to  observe, 
that,  in  place  of  being  beneath  the  no- 
tice of  the  intellectual,  the  Bible  is  the 
great  nourisher  of  intellect.  We  re- 
quire of  you  to  bear  away  to  your 
homes  as  an  undeniable  fact,  that  to 
care  for  the  soul  is  to  cultivate  the 
mind.  We  will  not  yield  the  culture 
of  the  understanding  to  earthly  hus- 
bandmen. There  are  heavenly  minis- 
ters who  water  it  with  a  choicer  dew, 
and  pour  on  it  the  beams  of  a  more 
brilliant  sun,  and  prune  its  branches 
with  a  kinder  and  more  skilful  hand. 
We  will  not  give  up  reason  to  stand 
always  as  a  priestess  at  the  altars  of 
human  philosophy.  She  hath  a  more 
majestic  temple  to  tread,  and  more 
beauteous  robes  wherein  to  walk,  and 
incense  rarer  and  more  fragrant  to  bum 
ip.  golden  censers.  She  does  well  when 
exploring  boldly  God's  visible  works. 
She  does  better,  when  she  meekly  sub- 
mits to  spiritual  teaching,  and  sits,  as 
a  child,  at  the  Savior's  feet :  for  then 
shall  she  experience  the  truth,  that 
"  the  entrance  of  God's  words  giveth 
light  and  understanding."  And,  there- 
fore, be  ye  heedful — the  young  amongst 
you  more  especially — that  ye  be  not 
ashamed  of  piety,  as  though  it  argued 
a  feeble  capacity.  Rather  be  assured, 
forasmuch  as  revelation  is  the  great 
strengthener  of  reason,  that  the  march 
of  mind  which  leaves  the  Bible  in  the 
rear  is  an  advance,  like  that  of  our 
first  parents  in  Paradise,  towards  know- 
ledge, but,  at  the  same  time,  towards 
death. 


ood's  provision  for  the  poor. 


a-j 


SERMON  VIII 


THE  PROVISION  MADE  BY  GOD  FOR  THE  POOR. 


"  Thou,  O  God,  hast  prepared  of  thy  goodness  for  the  poor." — Psalm,  Ixviii.  10. 


We  think  it  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able sayings  of  holy  writ,  that  "  the 
poor  shall  never  cease  out  of  the  land." 
Deut.  15:  11.  The  words  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  prophecy,  and  their  fulfil- 
ment has  been  every  way  most  surpri- 
sing. Amid  all  the  revolutions  whereof 
our  earth  has  been  the  scene — revolu- 
tions which  have  presented  to  us  em- 
pire after  empire  rising  to  the  summit 
of  greatness,  and  gathering  into  its  pro- 
vinces the  wealth  of  the  world — there 
has  never  been  a  nation  over  which 
riches  have  been  equally  diffused.  The 
many  have  had  poverty  for  their  por- 
tion, whilst  abundance  has  been  poured 
into  the  laps  of  the  few.  And  if  you 
refuse  to  consider  this  as  a  divine  ap- 
pointment, it  will  be  hard,  we  think,  to 
account  for  the  phenomenon.  It  might 
have  been  expected  that  the  distribu- 
tion of  physical  comfort  would  be  pro- 
portioned to  the  amount  of  physical 
strength  ;  so  that  numbers  would  dic- 
tate to  individuals  ;  and  the  power  of 
bone  and  muscle  be  brought  to  bear  on 
the  production  of  equality  of  circum- 
stance. And  just  in  the  degree  that  we 
recognize  the  fulfilment  of  prophecy  in 
the  .continuance  of  poverty,  we  must 
be  prepared  to  allow,  that  the  unequal 
distribution  of  temporal  advantages  is 
a  result  of  the  Almighty's  good  plea- 
sure ;  and  that,  consequently,  all  popu- 
lar harangues  on  equality  of  rights  are 
nothing  less  than  contradictions  to  the 
assertions,  "  the  rich  and  poor  meet  to- 
gether, the  Lord  is  the  maker  of  them 
all."     Proverbs,  22  :  2. 

There  is  no  easier  subject  for  stormy 
and  factious  declamation,  than  the  hard 
and  unnatural  estate   of  pnvorty.      The 


slightest  reference  to  it  engages,  at 
once,  the  feelings  of  a  multitude.  And 
whensoever  a  bold  and  talented  dema- 
gogue works  up  into  his  speeches  the 
doctrine,  that  all  men  are  born  with 
equal  rights,  he  plies  his  audience  with 
the  strongest  excitement,  but  does,  at 
the  same  time,  great  despite  to  the 
word  of  inspiration.  Wt  hold  it  to  be 
clear  to  every  student  of  Scripture,  that 
God  hath  ordained  successive  ranks  in 
human  society,  and  that  uniformity  of 
earthly  allotment  was  never  contem- 
plated by  his  providence.  And,  there- 
fore, do  we  likewise  hold,  that  attempts 
at  equalization  would  be  tantamount  to 
rebellion  against  the  appointments  of 
heaven ;  and  that  infidelity  must  up- 
heave the  altars  of  a  land,  ere  its  in- 
habitants could  venture  out  on  such 
enterprise.  It  is  just  that  enterprise 
which  may  be  looked  for  as  the  off- 
spring of  a  doctrine  demonstrable  only 
when  the  Bible  shall  have  perished — 
the  doctrine,  that  all  power  emanates 
from  the  people.  When  a  population 
have  been  nursed  into  the  belief  that 
sovereignty  is  theirs,  the  likelihood  is 
that  the  first  assertion  of  this  sover- 
eignty will  be  the  seizing  the  posses- 
sions of  those  who  gave  them  the  les- 
son. The  readiest  way  of  overturning 
the  rights  of  property  is  to  introduce 
false  theories  on  the  origin  of  power. 
And  they  must,  at  the  least,  be  short- 
sio^hted  calculators,  who,  having  taught 
our  mechanics  and  laborers  that  they 
are  the  true  king  of  the  land,  expect 
them  to  continue  well  contented  with 
the  title,  and  quite  willing  that  superi- 
ors should  keep  the  advantages. 

But   our  main    concern    lies,    at    pro- 


8^ 


god's  provision  for  the  poor. 


sent,  with  the  fact,  that  poverty  is  an 
appointment  of  God.  We  assume  this 
fact  as  one  not  to  be  questioned  by  a 
christian  cons^reg^ation.  And  when  we 
have  fastened  on  the  truth  that  God 
hath  appointed  poverty,  we  must  set 
ourselves  to  ascertain  that  God  hath 
not  overlooked  the  poor ;  there  being 
nothing  upon  which  we  may  have  a 
greater  prior  certainty  than  on  this, 
namely,  that  if  it  be  God's  will  that  the 
poor  should  not  cease,  it  must  also  be 
his  arrangement  that  the  poor  should  be 
cared  for. 

Now  our  text  is  a  concise,  but  strik- 
ing, declaration  that  the  solicitudes  of 
God  are  engaged  on  the  side  of  the 
poor.  It  would  seem,  indeed,  from  the 
context,  that  spiritual  blessings  were 
specially  intended  by  the  Psalmist, 
when  addressing  himself  to  God  in  the 
words  to  be  examined.  He  speaks  of 
the  Almighty  as  sending  a  plentiful 
rain,  and  refreshing  the  weary  inherit- 
ance. And  we  think  it  required  by  the 
nature  of  this  imagery,  as  compared 
with  the  rest  of  scriptural  metaphor, 
that  we  understand  an  outpouring  of 
the  Spirit  as  the  mercy  which  David 
commemorates.  But  still  there  is  no- 
thing, either  in  the  words  themselves, 
or  in  those  which  accompany  them,  re- 
quiring that  we  circumscribe  the  bear- 
ings of  the  passage.  We  may  take  it 
as  a  general  truth,  that  "  thou,  O  God, 
hast  prepared  of  thy  goodness  for  the 
poor."  And  we  shall,  therefore,  en- 
deavor to  turn  your  thoughts  on  two 
separate  inquiries  ;  examining,  in  the 
first  place,  how  the  assertion  holds 
good  in  temporal  things,  and  in  the  se- 
cond place,  how  it  holds  good  in  spi- 
ritual things.  This  second  inquiry  is 
the  more  closely  connected  with  the 
business  of  our  Sabbath  assemblings, 
and  we  shall  give  it,  therefore,  the  main 
of  our  time  and  attention. 

Now  if  we  set  ourselves  to  establish 
as  a  matter-of-fact,  that,  in  temporal 
things,  God,  of  his  goodness,  has  pre- 
pared for  the  poor,  we  seem,  at  once, 
arrested  in  our  demonstration  by  that 
undeniable  wretchedness  which  lies 
heavy  on  the  mass  of  a  crowded  popu- 
lation. But  it  would  be  altogether 
wrong  that  we  should  judge  any  ap- 
pointment of  God,  without  reference 
being  had  to  the  distortions  which 
man  has  himself  introduced.     We  feel 


assured  upon  the  point,  that,  in  con 
structing  the  framework  of  society, 
God  designed  that  one  class  should  de- 
pend greatly  on  another,  and  that  sumo 
should  have  nothiug  but  a  hai'd-earned 
pittance,  whilst  others  were  charioted 
in  plenty.  But  we  are  to  the  full  as 
clear  upon  another  point,  namely,  that 
if  in  any  case  there  be  positive  destitu- 
tion, it  is  not  to  be  referred  to  the  es- 
tablished ordhiance  of  God,  but  only 
to  some  forgetfulneis,  or  violation,  of 
that  mutual  dependence  which  this  or- 
dinance would  encourage.  There  has 
never  yet  been  the  state  of  things — 
and,  in  spite  of  the  fears  of  political 
economists,  we  know  not  that  there 
ever  will  be — in  which  the  produce  of 
this  earth  sufficed  not  ihr  its  popula- 
tion. God  has  given  the  globe  for  the 
dwelling-place  of  man,  and,  causing 
that  its  valleys  stand  thick  with  corn, 
scatters  food  over  its  surface  to  satisfy 
the  wants  of  an  enormous  and  multi- 
plying tenantry.  And  unless  you  can 
show  that  he  hath  sent  such  excess  of 
inhabitants  into  this  district  of  his  em- 
pire, that  there  cannot  be  wrung  for 
them  sufficiency  of  sustenance  from  the 
overtasked  soil,  you  will  have  made  no 
advances  towards  a  demonstration,  that 
the  veriest  outcast,  worn  to  a  mere 
skeleton  by  famine,  disproves  the  as- 
sertion, that  God,  of  his  goodness,  has 
prepared  for  the  poor.  The  question  is 
not  whether  every  poor  man  obtains 
enough :  for  this  brings  into  the  ac- 
count human  management.  It  is  sim- 
ply, whether  God  has  given  enough  : 
for  this  limits  our  thoughts  to  divine 
appointment.  And  beyond  all  doubt, 
when  we  take  this  plain  and  straight- 
forward view  of  the  subject,  we  cannot 
put  from  us  the  conclusion  that  God, 
of  his  goodness,  has  prepared  for  the 
poor.  If  he  had  so  limited  the  produc- 
tiveness of  the  earth  that  it  would  yield 
only  enough  for  a  fraction  of  its  inha- 
bitants ;  and  if  he  had  allowed  that  the 
storehouses  of  nature  might  be  exiiaust- 
ed  by  the  demands  of  the  myriads  whom 
he  summoned  into  life  ;  there  would  lie 
objections  against  a  statement  which 
ascribes  to  his  goodness  the  having 
made  an  universal  provision.  But  if — 
and  we  have  here  a  point  admitting  not 
of  controversy — he  have  always  hith- 
erto caused  that  the  productions  of  the 
globe  should  keep  pace  with  its  popu- 


god's  provision  for  the  poor. 


85 


lation,  it  is  nothing  better  than  the 
reasoning  of  a  child,  that  God  hath  not 
provided  for  the  poor,  because  through 
ma!-administration  of  his  bounties,  the 
poor  may,  in  certain  cases,  have  been 
wholly  unprovided  for. 

And  it  is  worth  your  while  to  observe, 
that  God  prepared  more  than  mere  sus- 
tenance for  the  poor,  when  he  endowed 
the  soil  with  its  surprising,  and  still 
undeveloped  productiveness.  We  are 
indebted  to  the  ground  on  which  we 
tread  for  the  arts  which  adorn,  and  the 
learning  which  ennobles,  as  well  as  for 
the  food  which  sustains  human  life.  If 
God  had  thrown  such  barrenness  into 
the  earth  that  it  would  yield  only  enough 
to  support  those  who  tilled  it,  you  may 
all  j^erceive  that  every  man  must  have 
labored  at  agriculture  for  himself;  there 
being  no  overplus  of  produce  which  the 
toil  of  one  individual  could  have  pro- 
cured for  another.  Thus,  if  you  exa- 
mine with  any  carefulness,  you  must 
necessarily  discover,  that  the  sole  rea- 
son why  this  company  of  men  can  de- 
vote themselves  to  the  business  of  le- 
gislation, and  that  to  the  study  of  juris- 
prudence; why  we  may  erect  schools, 
and  universities,  and  so  set  apart  indi- 
viduals who  shall  employ  themselves 
on  the  instruction  of  their  fellows  ;  why 
we  can  have  arinies  to  defend  the  poor 
man's  cottage  and  the  rich  man's  pa- 
lace, and  navies  to  prosecute  commerce, 
and  preachers  to  stand  up  in  our  cities 
and  villages,  pointing  mankind  to  Jesus 
of  Nazareth — that  the  alone  practical 
reason  of  all  this  must  be  sought  in  the 
iertility  of  the  soil :  for  if  the  soil  were 
not  fertile  enough  to  yield  more  than 
the  tiller  requires  for  himself,  every 
man  must  be  a  husbandman,  and  none 
could  follow  any  other  avocations.  So 
that,  by  an  an-angement  which  appears 
the  more  wonderful  the  more  it  is  pon- 
<lered,  God  hath  literally  wrought  into 
the  soil  of  this  globe  a  provision  for 
trie  varied  wants,  physical  and  moral, 
and  intellectual,  of  the  race  whose  ge- 
nerations possess  successively,  its  pro- 
vinces. That  which  made  wealth  pos- 
sible was  equally  a  preparation  for  the 
well-being  of  poverty.  And  though  you 
may  trace,  with  a  curious  accuracy, 
the  rise  and  progress  of  sciences  ;  and 
map  down  the  steps  of  the  march  of 
civilization ;  and  show  how,  in  the  ad- 
vancings  of  a  nation,  the  talented  and 


enterprising  have  carried  on  crusades 
against  ignorance  and  barbarism;  we 
can  still  bring  you  back  to  the  dust  out 
of  which  we  were  made,  and  bid  you 
find  in  its  particles  the  elements  of  the 
results  on  which  your  admiration  is 
poured,  and  tie  you  down,  with  the  ri- 
gor of  a  mathematical  demonstration, 
to  the  marvellous,  though  half-forgot- 
ten, fact,  that  God  invested  the  ground 
with  the  power  of  ministering  to  man's 
many  necessities — so  that  the  arts  by 
which  the  comforts  of  a  pojiulation  are 
multiplied,  and  the  laws  by  which  their 
rights  are  upheld,  and  the  schools  in 
which  their  minds  are  disciplined,  and 
the  churches  in  which  their  souls  are 
instructed — all  these  may  be  referred 
to  one  and  the  same  grand  ordinance; 
all  ascribed  to  that  fruitfulness  of  the 
earth  by  which  God,  "  of  his  goodness, 
has  prepared  for  the  poor." 

But  we  said  that  we  should  dwell  at 
no  great  length  on  the  first  division  of 
our  subject;  and  we  now,  therefore, 
pass  on  to  investigate  the  second.  We 
are  to  show  how  the  assertion  holds 
good  in  spiritual  things,  that  God,  of  his 
goodness,  has  prepared  for  the  poor. 

Now  we  often  set  before  you  the 
noble  doctrine  of  Scripture  and  our 
Church,  that  Christ  died  for  the  whole 
world ;  and  that,  consequently,  the  hu- 
man being  can  never  be  bom  whose 
sins  were  not  laid  on  the  surety  of  the 
apostate.  It  is  a  deep  and  mysterious, 
but  glorious,  tnith,  that  the  sins  of 
every  man  were  punished  in  Jesus,  so 
that  the  guiltiness  of  each  individual 
pressed  in  upon  the  Mediator,  and 
wrung  out  its  penalties  fi-om  his  flesh 
and  his  spirit.  The  person  of  Christ 
Jesus  was  divine  ;  whilst  in  that  person 
were  united  two  natures,  the  human 
and  divine.  And  on  this  account  it  was 
that  the  sins  of  every  man  could  rush 
against  the  surety,  and  take  their  pe- 
nalty out  of  his  anguish.  It  is  not 
merely  that  Christ  was  the  brother  of 
every  man.  A  man  and  his  brother  are 
walled-off,  and  sej^arated,  by  their  per- 
sonality. What  is  done  by  the  one  can- 
not be  felt,  as  his  own  action,  by  the 
other.  But  Christ,  by  assuming  our 
nature,  took,  as  it  were,  a  part  of  eve- 
ry man.  He  was  not,  as  any  of  us  is,  a 
mere  human  individual.  But  having  hu- 
man nature,  and  not  human  personality, 
he  was  tied,  so  to  speak,  by  a  most  sen- 


86 


god's  provision  for  the  poor. 


sitive    fibre,    to  each    member   of    the 
enormous  family  of   man.      And  along 
these  unnumbered  threads  of  sympathy 
there  came  travelling    the   evil    deeds, 
and    the    evil   thoughts,    and    the    evil 
w^ords,  of  every    child  of  a  rebellious 
seed ;  and  they  knocked  at  his  heart, 
and  asked  for  vengeance  :  and  thus  the 
sin  became  his  own  in  every  thing  but 
its  guiltiness  ;   and  the  wondrous  result 
was  brought  round,  that  he  "  who  did 
no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth,"  1  Peter,  2:  22,  felt  every  sin 
which  can  ever  be  committed,  and  was 
pierced  by  it,  and  torn  by  it :  and  the 
alone  innocent  one — the  solitary  unde- 
filed  and  unprofaned  man — he  was  so 
bound  up  with  each  rebel  against  God 
that  the  rebellion,   in  all  its  ramifica- 
tions, seemed  to   throw  itself  into  his 
heart;  and,  convulsing  where  it  could 
not    contaminate,     dislocated   the    soul 
which  it  did  not  defile,   and  caused  the 
thorough  endurance  of  all  the  wretch- 
edness, and  all  the  anguish,  which  were 
due  to  the  transgressions  of  a  mighty 
population.    Ay,  and  it  is  because  I  can 
clearly  perceive,   that,  in  taking  human 
nature,   Christ  fastened  me  to  himself 
by  one    of   those  sympathetic   threads 
v/hich  can  never  be  snapped,  that  I  feel 
certified  that  every  sin  which   I   have 
committed,  and  every  sin  which  I  shall 
yet  commit,  went  in  upon  the  Mediator 
and  swelled  his  sufferings.     When  he 
died,  my  sins,  indeed,  had  not  been  per- 
petrated.    Yet,  forasmuch  as  they  were 
to  be  perpetrated  in  the  nature  which 
he    had    taken   to  himself,    they  came 
crowding   up  from  the    unborn    ages  : 
and  they  ran,  like  molten  lead,  along 
the  fibre  which,  even  then,  bound  me 
to  the  Savior ;  and  pouring  themselves 
into  the  sanctuary  of  his  righteous  soul, 
contributed  to  the  wringing  from  him 
the  mysterious  cry,  "  mine  iniquities" 
— mine,  done  in  that  nature,  which  is 
emphatically    mine — "  mine    iniquities 
have  taken  hold  upon  me  so  that  I  am 
not  able  to    look    up;    they  are  more 
than  the  hairs  of  my  head;   therefore 
my  heart  faileth  me."     Psalm,  40  :  12. 
Now  it  was  thus  with  a  distinct   and 
specific  reference    to  every  individual, 
the   poorest   and  the    meanest   of  our 
race,  that  "  the  word  was  made  flesh," 
John,  1  :   14,  and  dwelt  and  died  upon 
this  earth.     It  was  not  merely  that  God 
cared  for  the  world  in  the  mass,  as  for 


a  province  of  his  empire  tenanted  by 
the  wayward  and  the  wretched.  He 
cared  for  each  single  descendant  of 
Adam.  We  know,  with  an  assurance 
which  it  is  beyond  the  power  of  argu- 
ment to  shake,  that  Christ  Jesus  tasted 
death  for  every  man.  We  are  commis- 
sioned to  say  to  each  individual — it 
matters  not  who  he  be,  scorched  by  an 
eastern  sun,  or  girt  in  by  polar  snows 
— the  Son  of  the  Eternal  died  for  thee, 
for  thee  separately,  for  thee  individu- 
ally. And  if,  then,  you  cannot  find  us 
the  outcast  unredeemed  by  the  costly 
processes  of  the  incarnation  and  cruci- 
fixion; if,  addressing  ourselves  to  the 
least  known,  and  the  most  insignificant 
of  our  species,  we  can  tell  him  that, 
though  he  be  but  a  unit,  yea  almost  a 
cipher  in  the  vast  sum  of  human  exist- 
ence, he  has  so  engaged  the  solicitudes 
of  the  Almighty  that  a  divine  person 
undertook  his  suretyship,  and  thi'ew 
down  the  barriers  which  sin  had  cast 
up  between  him  and  happiness — oh, 
have  we  not  an  overpowering  proof, 
that  God  has  been  mindful  of  the  des- 
pised ones  and  the  destitute  ;  and  whilst 
we  can  appeal  to  such  provision  on  be- 
half of  the  poor  as  places  heaven  with- 
in their  reach,  in  all  its  magnificence, 
and  in  all  its  blessedness,  where  is  the 
tongue  that  can  presume  to  deny  that 
God  hath,  "  of  his  goodness,  prepared 
for  the  poor  ]  " 

But  we  cannot  content  ourselves  with 
this  general  proof.  It  seems  implied  in 
our  text — that  this  is  the  point  which 
we  seek  to  establish — that,  in  spiritual 
things,  God  has  prepared  for  the  poor 
even  more  than  for  the  rich.  We  pro- 
ceed, then,  to  observe  that  God  has  so 
manifested  a  tender  and  impartial  con- 
cern for  his  creatures,  as  to  have  thrown 
advantages  round  poverty  which  may 
well  be  said  to  counterbalance  its  dis- 
advantages. It  is  unquestionable  that 
the  condition  of  a  poor  man  is  more 
favorable  than  that  of  a  rich  to  the  re- 
ception of  Christ.  Had  not  this  been 
matter-of-fact,  the  Redeemer  would  ne- 
ver have  pronounced  it  "easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  a  needle's  eye, 
than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  Luke,  IS  :  25. 
There  is  in  poverty  what  we  may  al- 
most call  a  natural  tendency  to  the  lead- 
ino"  men  to  dependence  on  God,  and 
faith    in  his   promises.      On  the  other 


GOD  S  PROVISION  FOR  THE  POOR. 


87 


hand,  there  is  in  wealth  just  as  natural 
a  tendency  to  the  production  of  a  spirit 
of  haughty  and  infidel  independence. 
The  poor  man,  harassed  with  difficul- 
ties in  earning  a  scanty  subsistence  for 
himself  and  his  household,  will  have  a 
readier  ear  for  tidings  of  a  bright  home 
beyond  the  grave,  than  the  rich  man, 
who,  lapped  in  luxury,  can  imagine  no- 
thing: more  deliarhtful  than  the  unbro- 
ken  continuance  of  present  enjoyrpents. 
Poverty,  in  short,  is  a  humiliating  and 
depi-essing  thing;  whilst  affluence  nur- 
tures pride  and  elation  of  mind.  And 
in  proportion,  therefore,  as  all  which 
Ims  kinsraanship  with  humility  is  favor- 
able to  piety,  all  which  has  kinsman- 
ship  with  haughtiness  unfavorable,  we 
may  fairly  argue  that  the  poor  man  has 
an  advantage  over  the  rich,  considering 
them  both  as  appointed  to  immortality. 
But  not  only  has  God  thus  merciful- 
ly introduced  a  kind  of  natural  coun- 
terpoise to  the  allowed  evils  of  pover- 
ty :  in  the  institution  of  a  method  of 
redemption,  he  may  specially  be  said 
to  liave  prepared  for  the  mean  and  the 
destitute.  There  is  nothing  in  the  pre- 
scribed duties  of  religion,  which,  in  the 
]ea.3t  degree,  requires  that  a  man  should 
be  a  man  of  learning  or  leisure.  We 
taxe  the  husbandman  at  his  plough,  or 
the  manufacturer  at  his  loom;  and  we 
can  tell  him,  that,  whilst  he  goes  on, 
uninterruptedly,  with  his  daily  toil,  the 
grand  business  of  his  soul's  salvation 
may  advance  with  an  uniform  march. 
We  do  not  require  that  he  should  relax 
in  his  industry,  or  abstract  some  hours 
from  usual  occupations,  in  order  to 
learn  a  complicated  plan,  and  study  a 
scheme  which  demands  time  and  intel- 
lect for  its  mastery.  The  Gospel  mes- 
sage is  so  exquisitely  simple,  the  sum 
and  sub&tance  of  truth  may  be  so  gath- 
ered into  brief  and  easily  understood 
sentences,  that  all  which  it  is  absolute- 
ly necessary  to  know  may  be  told  in  a 
minute,  and  borae  about  with  him  by 
the  laborer  in  the  field,  or  the  mariner 
on  the  waters,  or  the  soldier  on  the 
battle-plain.  We  reckon  it  far  the  most 
wonderful  feature  in  the  Bible,  'that, 
whilst  presenting  a  sphere  for  the  long- 
est and  most  pains-taking  research — 
exhibiting  heights  which  no  soarings 
of  imagination  can  scale,  and  depths 
which  no  fathoming-line  of  intellect  can 
explore — it  sets  forth  the  way  of  salva- 


tion with  so  much  of  unadorned  plain- 
ness, that  it  may  as  readily  be  under- 
stood by  the  child  or  the  peasant,  as  by 
the  full-grown  man  or  the  deep-read 
philosopher.  Who  will  keep  back  the 
tribute  of  acknowledgment  that  God, 
of  his  own  goodness,  has  prepared  for 
the  poor  1  If  an  individual  be  possess- 
ed of  commanding  genius,  gifted  with 
powers  which  far  remove  him  from  the 
herd  of  his  fellows,  he  will  find  in  the 
pages  of  Scripture  beauties,  and  diffi- 
culties, and  secrets,  and  wonders,  which 
a  long  life-time  of  study  shall  leave  un- 
exhausted. But  the  man  of  no  preten- 
sions to  talent,  and  of  no  oppoitunities 
for  research,  may  turn  to  the  Bible  in 
quest  of  comfort  and  direction ;  and 
there  he  will  find  traced  as  with  a  sun- 
beam, so  that  none  but  the  wilfully 
blind  can  overlook  the  record,  guidance 
for  the  lost,  and  consolation  for  the 
downcast.  We  say  that  it  is  in  this 
preparation  for  the  poor  that  the  word 
of  God  is  most  surprising.  View  the 
matter  how  you  will,  the  Bible  is  as 
much  the  unlearned  man's  book  as  it  is 
the  learned,  as  much  the  poor  man's  as 
it  is  the  rich.  It  is  so  composed  as  to  suit 
all  ages  and  all  classes.  And  whilst  the 
man  of  learning  and  caj^acity  is  poring 
upon  the  volume  in  the  retirement  of 
his  closet,  and  employing  all  the  stores 
of  a  varied  literature  on  the  illustrating 
its  obscurities  and  the  solving  its  diffi- 
culties, the  laborer  may  be  sitting  at 
his  cottage-dooi-,  with  his  boys  and  his 
girls  drawn  around  him,  explaining  to 
them,  from  the  simply-written  pages, 
how  great  is  the  Almighty,  and  how 
precious  is  Jesus.  Nay,  we  shall  not 
overstep  the  boundaries  of  truth  if  we 
carry  these  statements  yet  a  little  fur- 
ther. We  hold  that  the  Bible  is  even 
more  the  poor  man's  book  than  the  rich 
man's.  There  is  a  vast  deal  of  the  Bi- 
ble which  appears  written  with  the  ex- 
press design  of  verifying  our  text,  that 
God,  of  his  goodness,  has  "  prepared 
for  the  poor."  There  are  many  of  the 
promises  which  seem  to  demand  pov- 
erty as  the  element  wherein  alone  their 
full  lustre  can  radiate.  The  prejudices, 
moreover,  of  the  poor  man  against  the 
truths  which  the  volume  opens  ud  are 
likely  to  be  less  strong,  and  inveterate, 
than  those  of  the  rich  man.  He  seems 
to  have,  naturally,  a  kind  of  co'^;!pan- 
ionship  with  a  suffering  Redeemer,  who 


88 


GOD  S  PROVISION  FOR  THE  POOR. 


had  not  "  where  to  lay  his  head."  Luke, 
8 :  58.     He   can  have  no  repugnance, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  a  sort  of  instinc- 
tive attachment,   to   apostles  who,   like 
himself,  wrought  with  their  own  hands 
for  the  supply  of  daily  necessities.     He 
can  feel  himself,  if  we  may  use  such 
expression,  at  home  in  the  scenery,  and 
amongst  the  leading  characters,  of  the 
New  Testament.   Whereas,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  scientific  man,  and  the  man 
of  education,    and  of  iniluence,  and  of 
high  bearing  in  society,  will  have  pre- 
possessions, and  habits  of  thinking,  with 
which   the  announcements  of  the  Gos- 
pel will  unavoidably  jar.     He  has,  as  it 
were,  to  be  brought  down  to  the  level 
of  the  poor  man,  before  he  can  pass  un- 
der the   gateway  which  stands   at  the 
outset  of  the  path  of  salvation.     He  has 
to  begin  by   learning  the   comparative 
worthlessness    of     many     distinctions, 
which,  never  having  been  placed  with- 
in the  poor  man's   reach,  stand   not  as 
obstacles   to  his   heavenward  progress. 
And  if  there  be  correctness  in  this   re- 
presentation, it  is  quite  evident  that  if 
the  Gospel   be,  for  the  first  time,   put 
into  the  hands,   or  proclaimed    in  the 
hearing,  of  a  man  of  rank  and  of  a  mean 
man,  the  likelihood  is  far   greater  that 
the  mean  man  will  lay  hold,  effective- 
ly and  savingly,  on  the  truth,  than  that 
the  man  of  lauk  will  thus  grasp  it :   and 
our    conclusion,   therefore,  comes    out 
strong  and  irresistible,  that,  if  there  be 
advantage  on  either  side,  the  Bible   is 
even  more   nicely  adapted  to  the  poor 
than  to  the  rich  ;   and  that,  consequent- 
ly,  it  is  most  emphatically  true,   that, 
"  thou,  O  God,  hast  prepared  of  thy 
goodness  for  the  poor." 

But  there  is  yet  another  point  on 
which  we  think  it  well  to  turn  briefly 
your  attention  ;  for  it  is  one  which  is, 
oftentimes,  not  a  little  misunderstood. 
We  know  that  what  are  termed  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity  are  of  a  costly 
and  intricate  description,  scarcely  ac- 
cessible except  to  the  studious.  It  is 
hardly  to  bo  supposed  that  the  unlet- 
tered man  can  have  mastered  the  ex- 
ternal argumsnts  which  go  to  prove  the 
divine  origin  of  our  faith.  And  if  the 
Almighty  have  placed  the  witness  for 
the  truth  of  Christianity  beyond  the 
poor  man's  grasp,  has  he  not  left  the 
poor  man  open  to  the  inroads  of  scep- 
ticism ;  and  how,   therefore,  can  it  be 


said  that  he  has  of  his  goodness  "  pre- 
pared for  the  poor  1  "  There  is  much 
in  the  aspect  of  the  times  which  gives 
powerful  interest  to  such  a  question  as 
this.  Whilst  all  ranks  are  assailed  by 
the  emissaries  of  infidelity,  it  is  import- 
ant that  we  see  whether  God  has  not 
prepared  for  all  ranks  some  engines  of 
resistance. 

Now  we  are  never  afraid  of  subject- 
ing the  external  evidences  of  Christi- 
anity to  the  most  sifting  processes 
which  our  adversaries  can  invent.  We 
do  not  receive  a  religion  without  proof; 
and  our  proof  we  will  bring  to  the  best 
touchstones  of  ti'uth.  Christianity  is 
not  the  grave,  but  the  field  of  vigorous 
inquiry.  And  we  see  not,  therefore, 
why  scepticism  should  claim  to  itself 
a  monopoly  of  intellect.  The  high- 
road to  reputation  for  talent  seems  to 
be  boldness  in  denying  Christianity. 
Ay,  and  many  a  young  man  passes  now- 
a-days  for  a  fine  and  original  genius, 
who  could  not  distinguish  himself  in 
the  honorable  competitions  of  au  uni- 
versity, who  makes  no  way  in  his  pro- 
fession, and  is  nothing  better  than  a 
cypher  in  society ;  but  who  is  of  so  in- 
dependent a  spirit  that  he  can  jeer  at 
priestcraft  in  a  club-room,  and  of  so  in- 
ventive a  turn  that  he  can  ply  Scrip- 
ture with  objections  a  hundred  times 
refuted. 

But  the  evidences  of  Christianity  are 
not  to  be  set  aside  by  a  sneer.  We  will 
take  our  stand  as  on  a  mount  thrown 
up  in  the  broad  waste  of  many  genera- 
tions ;  and  one  century  after  another 
shall  struggle  forth  from  the  sepulchres 
of  the  past ;  and  each,  as  its  moucirchs, 
and  its  warriors,  and  its  priests,  walk 
dimly  under  review,  shall  lay  down  a 
ti'ibute  at  the  feet  of  Christianity.  We 
will  have  the  volume  of  history  spread 
out  before  us,  and  bid  science  arrange 
her  manifold  developments,  and  seek 
the  bones  of  martyrs  in  the  east  and  in 
the  west,  and  tread  upon  battle-plains 
with  an  empire's  dust  sepulchred  be- 
neath; but  on  whatsoever  we  gaze,  and 
whithersoever  we  turn,  the  evidences 
of  our  religion  shall  look  nobler,  and 
wax  mightier.  It  were  the  work  of  a 
life-time  to  gain  even  cursory  acquaint- 
ance with  the  proofs  which  substan- 
tiate the  claims  of  Christianity.  It 
would  beat  down  the  energies  of  the 
most  gifted  and  masterful  spirit,  to  re- 


god's  provision  for  the  poor. 


89 


quire"  it  to  search  out,  and  concen- 
trate, whatsoever  attests  the  truth  of 
the  Gospel — for  the  mountains  of  the 
earth  have  a  voice,  and  the  cities, 
and  the  valleys,  and  the  tombs;  and 
the  sail  must  be  unfurled  to  bear  the 
inquirer  over  every  ocean,  and  the 
wings  of  the  morning  must  carry  him 
to  the  outskirts  of  infinite  space.  We 
will  not  concede  that  a  more  over- 
whelming demonstration  would  be  giv- 
en to  the  man  who  should  stand  side 
by  side  with  a  messenger  from  the  in- 
visible world,  and  hear  from  celestial 
lips  the  spirit-stirring  news  of  redemp- 
tion, and  be  assured  of  the  reality  of 
the  interview  by  a  fiery  cross  left 
stamped  on  his  forehead,  than  is  ac- 
tually to  be  attained  by  him  wlio  sits 
down  patiently  and  assiduously,  and 
plies,  with  all  the  diligence  of  an  un- 1 
wearied  laborer  in  the  mine  of  informa-  j 
tion,  at  accumulating  and  arranging  the 
evidences  of  Christianity.  So  that  we 
may  well  think  ourselves  warranted  in 
contending  that  God  has  marvellously 
prepared  for  the  faith  of  educated  men. 
Scepticism,  whatever  its  boasts,  walks 
to  its  conclusions  over  a  fettered  rea- 
son, and  a  forgotten  creation.  And  any 
man  who  will  study  carefully,  and  think 
candidly,  shall  rise  from  his  inquiry  a 
believer  in  revelation. 

But  what  say  we  to  the  case  of  the 
poor  man'^  How  hath  God,  of  his  good- 
ness, "prepared  for  the  poorl"  It  may 
be  certain  that  the  external  evidences 
of  christianitjr  amount  to  a  demonstra- 
tion, which,  when  fairly  put,  is  altoge- 
ther irresistible.  But  it  is  just  as  cer- 
tain that  the  generality  of  believers 
can  have  little  or  no  acquaintance  with 
these  evidences.  It  were  virtually  the 
laying  an  interdict  on  the  Christianity 
of  the  lower  orders,  to  establish  a  ne- 
cessity, that  mastery  of  the  evidences 
mus^recede  belief  in  the  doctrines  of 
the  Gospel.  We  can  see  no  result  but 
that  of  limiting  the  very  existence  of 
religion  to  the  academy  or  the  cloister, 
and  prohibiting  its  circulation  through 
the  dense  masses  of  our  population,  if 
the  only  method  of  certifying  one's- 
self  that  the  Bible  is  from  God  were 
that  of  searching  through  the  annals 
of  antiquity,  and  following  out  the  tes- 
timony arranged  by  the  labors  of  suc- 
cessive generations.  And  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  were  just  as  fatal  to  the 


Christianity  of  our  peasantry,  to  main- 
tain that  they  take  for  granted  the  di- 
vine origin  of  the  Gospel,  and  that  they 
can  give  no  better  reason  than  that  of 
long-established  custom,  why  the  Bi- 
ble should  be  received  as  a  communi- 
cation from  heaven.  We  say  that  this 
would  be  as  fatal  as  the  former  suppo- 
sition to  the  Christianity  of  our  peasan- 
try. A  belief  which  has  nothing  to 
rest  on,  deserves  not  to  be  designated 
belief;  and,  unable  to  sustain  itself  by 
reason,  must  yield  at  the  first  onset  of 
scepticism. 

But  there  can  be  nothing  more  un- 
just than  the  conclusion,  that  the  poor 
man  has  no  evidence  within  reach,  be- 
cause he  has  not  the  external.  We  will 
not  allow  that  God  has  failed,  in  this 
respect,  to  prepare  for  the  poor.  We 
will  go  into  the  cottage  of  the  poor 
disciple  of  Christ,  and  we  will  say  to 
him,  why  do  you  believe  upon  Jesus  1 
You  know  little  or  nothing  about  the 
witness  of  antiquity.  You  know  little 
or  nothing  about  the  completion  of  pro- 
phecy. You  can  give  me  no  logical,  no 
grammatical,  no  historical  reasons  for 
concluding  the  Bible  to  be,  what  it  pro- 
fesses itself,  a  revelation,  made  in  early 
times,  of  the  will  of  the  Almighty.  Why 
then  do  you  believe  upon  Jesus'?  What 
grounds  have  you  for  faith,  what  basis 
of  convictionl 

Now  if  the  poor  man  lay  bare  his  ex- 
perience, he  will,  probably,  show  how 
God  hath  prepared  for  him,  by  giving 
such  a  reply  as  the  following:  I  lived 
long  unconcerned  about  the  soul.  I 
thought  only  on  the  pleasures  of  to- 
day: I  cared  nothing  for  the  worm 
which  might  gnaw  me  to-morrow.  I 
was  brought,  however,  by  sickness,  or 
by  disappointment,  or  by  the  death  of 
the  one  1  best  loved,  or  by  a  startling 
sermon,  to  fear  that  all  was  not  right 
between  me  and  God.  I  grew  more  and 
more  anxious.  Terrors  haunted  me  by 
day,  and  sleep  went  from  my  pillow  by 
night.  At  length  I  was  bidden  to  look 
unto  Jesus  as  "  delivered  for  my  offen- 
ces, and  raised  again  for  my  justifica- 
tion." Romans,  4  :  25.  Instantly  I  felt 
him  to  be  exactly  the  Savior  that  I 
needed.  Every  want  found  in  him  an 
immediate  supply ;  every  fear  a  cordial ; 
every  wound  a  balm.  And  ever  since, 
the  more  I  have  read  of  the  Bible,  the 
more  have  I  found  that  it  must  have 
12 


90 


GOD  S   PROVISION    FOR    THE    TOOK. 


been  written  on  purpose  for  myself.  It 
seems  to  know  all  my  cares,  all  my 
temptations  ;  and  it  speaks  so  beauti- 
fully a  word  in  season,  that  he  who 
wrote  it  must,  I  think,  have  had  me  in 
his  eye.  Why  do  I  believe  in  Jesus'? 
Oh,  I  feel  hitn  to  be  a  Divine  Savior — 
that  is  my  proof.  Why  do  I  believe  the 
Bible  1  I  have  found  it  to  be  God's 
word — there  is  my  witness. 

We  think,  assuredly,  that  if  you  take 
the  experience  of  the  generality  of 
christians,  you  will  find  that  they  do 
not  believe  without  proof.  We  again 
say,  that  we  cannot  assent  to  the  pro- 
position, that  the  Christianity  of  our 
villages  and  hamlets  takes  for  granted 
the  truth  of  the  Bible,  and  has  no  rea- 
son to  give  when  that  truth  is  called 
in  question.  The  peasant  who,  Avhen 
the  hard  toil  of  the  day  is  concluded, 
will  sit  by  his  fireside,  and  read  the 
Bible  with  all  the  eagerness,  and  all  the 
confidence,  of  one  who  receives  it  as 
a  message  from  God,  has  some  better 
ground  than  common  report,  or  the 
tradition  of  his  forefathers,  on  which 
to  rest  his  persuasion  of  the  divinity 
of  the  volume.  The  book  speaks  to  him 
with  a  force  which  he  feels  never  could 
belong  to  a  mere  human  composition. 
There  is  drawn  such  a  picture  of  his 
own  heart — a  picture  presenting  many 
features  which  he  would  not  have  dis- 
covered, had  they  not  been  thus  out- 
lined, but  which  he  recognizes  as  most 
accurate,  the  instant  they  are  exhibit- 
ed— that  he  can  be  sure  that  the  painter 
is  none  other  but  he  who  alone  search- 
es the  heart.  The  proposed  deliverance 
agrees  so  wonderfully,  and  so  minutely 
with  his  wants  ;  it  manifests  such  un- 
bounded and  equal  concern  for  the  ho- 
nor of  God,  and  the  v.ell-being  of  man  ; 
it  provides,  with  so  consummate  a  skill, 
that,  whilst  the  human  race  is  redeem- 
ed, the  divine  attributes  shall  be  glori- 
fied ;  that  it  were  like  telling  him  that 
a  creature  spread  out  the  firmament, 
and  inlaid  it  with  worlds,  to  tell  him 
that  the  proffered  salvation  is  the  de- 
vice of  impostors,  or  the  figment  of  en- 
thusiasts. And  thus  the  pious  inmate 
of  the  workshop  or  the  cottage  "  hath 
the  witness  in  himself."  1  St.  John, 
5:10.  The  home-thrusts  which  he  re- 
ceives from  "  the  sword  of  the  Spirit," 
Ephesians,  6  :  17,  are  his  evidence  that 
the  weapon  is  not  of  earthly  manufac- 


ture. The  surprising  manner  in  which 
texts  will  start,  as  it  were,  from  the 
page,  and  become  spoken  things  rather 
than  written ;  so  that  the  Bible,  shak- 
ing itself  from  the  trammels  of  the 
printing-press,  seems  to  rush  from  the 
firmament  in  the  breathings  of  the  Om- 
nipotent— this  stamps  Scripture  to  him 
as  literally  God's  word — prophets  and 
apostles  may  have  written  it,  but  the 
Almighty  still  utters  it.  And  all  this 
makes  the  evidence  with  which  the 
poor  man  is  prepared  in  defence  of 
Christianity.  We  do  not  represent  it 
as  an  evidence  which  may  successively 
be  brought  forward  in  professed  com- 
bat with  infidelity.  It  must  have  been 
experienced  before  it  can  be  admitted; 
and  not  being  of  a  nature  to  commend 
itself  distinctly  to  the  understanding  of 
the  sceptic,  will  be  rejected  by  him  as 
visionary,  and  therefore,  received  not 
in  proof.  But,  if  the  self-evidencing 
power  of  Scripture  render  not  the  pea- 
sant a  match  for  the  unbeliever,  it  no- 
bly secures  him  against  being  himself 
overborne.  "  The  witness  in  himself," 
if  it  qualify  him  not,  like  science  and 
scholarship,  for  the  offensive,  will  ren- 
der him  quite  impregnable,  so  long  as 
he  stands  on  the  defensive.  And  we 
believe  of  many  a  village  christian,  who 
has  never  read  a  line  on  the  evidences 
of  Christianity,  and  whose  whole  theo- 
logy is  drawn  from  the  Bible  itself, 
that  he  would  be,  to  the  full,  as  stanch 
in  withstanding  the  emissaries  of  scep- 
ticism as  the  mightiest  and  best  equip- 
ped of  our  learned  divines  ;  and  that,  if 
he  could  give  no  answer  to  his  assailant 
whilst  urging  his  chronological  and  his- 
torical objections,  yet  by  falling  back 
on  his  own  experience,  and  entrench- 
ing himself  within  the  manifestations  of 
truth  which  have  been  made  to  his  own 
conscience,  he  would  escape  the  gdving 
harborage,  for  one  instant,  to  a  suspi- 
cion that  Christianity  is  a  fable  ;  and 
holds  fast,  in  all  its  beauty,  and  in  all 
its  integrity,  the  truth,  that  "  we  have 
an  advocate  with  the  Father,  Christ 
Jesus  the  righteous,  and  he  is  the  pro- 
pitiation of  our  sins."   1  John,  2  :  1. 

Yea,  and  it  is  a  growing  and  strength- 
ening evidence  which  God,  of  his  good- 
ness, has  thus  prepared  for  our  poor. 
Whensoever  they  obey  a  direction  of 
Scripture,  and  find  the  accompanying 
promise  fulfilled,  this  is  a  nev/  proof 


god's  provision  for  the  pooe. 


91 


that  the  direction  and  the  promise  are 
from  God.  The  book  tells  them  that 
blessings  are  to  be  sought  and  obtained 
through  the  name  of  Christ.  They  ask 
and  they  receive.  What  is  this  but  a 
witness  that  the  book  is  divine'?  Would 
God  give  his  sanction  to  a  lie  1  The 
book  assures  them  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
will  gradually  sanctify  those  Avho  be- 
lieve upon  Jesus.  They  find  the  sanc- 
tification  following  on  the  belief;  and 
does  not  this  attest  the  authority  of  the 
volume  1  The  book  declares  that  ''  all 
things  work  together  for  good,"  Rom. 
8  :  28,  to  the  disciples  of  Jesus.  They 
find  that  prosperity  and  adversity,  as 
each  brings  its  trials,  so  each  its  les- 
sons and  supports  ;  and  whilst  God  thus 
continually  verifies  a  declaration,  can 
they  doubt  that  he  made  it  1  And  thus, 
day  by  day,  the  self-evidencing  power 
of  Scripture  comes  into  fuller  opera- 
tion, and  experience  multiplies  and 
strengthens  the  internal  testimony. 
The  peasant  will  discover  more  and 
more  that  the  Bible  and  the  conscience 
so  fit  into  each  other,  that  the  artificer 
who  made  one  must  have  equally  fa- 
shioned both.  His  life  will  be  an  on- 
going proof  that  Scripture  is  truth  ;  for 
his  days  and  hours  are  its  chapters  and 
verses  realized  to  the  letter.  And  others 
may  admire  the  shield  which  the  indus- 
try and  ingenuity  of  learned  men  have 
thrown  over  Christianity.  They  maj;- 
speak  of  the  solid  rampart  cast  up  by 
the  labor  of  ages;  and  pronounce  the 
faith  unassailable,  because  history,  and 
philosophy,  and  science,  have  all  com- 
bined to  gird  round  it  the  iron,  and 
the  rock,  of  a  ponderous  and  colossal 
demonstration.  We,  for  our  part,  glory 
most  in  the  fact,  that  Scripture  so  com- 
mends itself  to  the  conscience,  and  ex- 
perience so  bears  out  the  Bible,  that 
the  Gospel  can  go  the  round  of  the 
world,  and  carry  with  it,  in  all  its  tra- 
vel, its  own  mighty  credentials.  And 
though  we  depreciate  not,  but  rather 
confess  thankfully,  the  worth  of  exter- 
nal evidence,  we  still  think  it  the  no- 
blest provision  of  God,  that  if  the  ex- 
ternal were  destroyed,  the  internal 
would  remain,  and  uphold  splendidly 
Christianity.  There  is  nothing  which 
we  reckon  more  wonderful  in  arrange- 
ment, nothing  more  deserving  all  the 
warmth  of  our  gratitude,  than  that  di- 
vine truth,  by  its  innate  power,  could 


compel  the  Corinthian  sceptic,  iCor.  14: 
25,  to  fall  down  upon  his  face  ;  and  that 
this  truth,  by  the  same  innate  power, 
can  so  satisfy  a  reader  of  its  own  ori- 
gin, that  ploughmen,  as  well  as  theolo- 
gians, have  reason  for  their  hope  ;  and 
the  Christianity  of  villages,  as  much  as 
the  Christianity  of  universities,  can  de- 
fy infidelity,  and  hold  on  undaunted  by 
all  the  bufletings  of  the  adversary. 

And  if  we  now  sum  up  this  portion 
of  our  argument,  we  may  say,  that  God 
has  so  constructed  his  word  that  it 
carries  with  it  its  own  witness  to  the 
poor  man's  intellect,  and  the  poor  man's 
heart.  Thus,  although  it  were  idle  to 
contend  that  the  poor  can  show  you, 
with  a  learned  precision,  the  authenti- 
city of  Scripture,  or  call  in  the  aids 
which  philosophy  has  furnished,  or 
strengthen  their  faith  from  the  won- 
derworkings  of  nature,  or  mount  and 
snatch  conviction  from  the  glittering 
tracery  on  the  overhead  canopy ;  still 
they  may  feel,  whilst  perusing  the 
Bible,  that  it  so  speaks  to  the  Jieart, 
that  it  tells  them  so  fully  all  they  most 
want  to  know,  that  it  so  verifies  itself  ''.!^: 
in  every-day  experience,  that  it  hum-  '^ 
bles  them  so  much  and  rejoices  them  -• 
so  much,  that  it  strikes  with  such  en- 
ergy on  every  chord — in  short,  that 
it  so  commends  itself  to  every  facul- 
ty as  purely  divine — that  they  could 
sooner  believe  that  God  made  not  the 
stars,  than  that  God  wrote  not  the 
Scriptures:  and  thus,  equipped  with 
powerful  machinery  for  resisting  the 
infidel,  they  give  proof  the  most  con- 
clusive, that  ''thou,  0  God,  hast  pre- 
pared, of  thy  goodness,  for  the  poor." 

Such  are  the  illustrations  which  we 
would  advance  of  the  truth  of  our  text, 
when  reference  is  had  to  spiritual  pro- 
vision. We  shall  only,  in  conclusion, 
commend  the  subject  to  your  earnest 
meditation  ;  assuring  you  that  the  more 
it  is  examined,  the  more  it  will  be  found 
fraught  with  interest  and  instruction. 
There  is  something  exquisitely  touch- 
ing in  an  exhibition  of  God  as  provid- 
ing sedulouslj'',  both  in  temporal  and 
spiritual  things,  for  the  poor  and  illi- 
terate. "The  eyes  of  all  wait  upon 
thee,  and  thou  givest  them  their  meat 
in  due  season."  Psalm  MS  :  15.  God 
is  that  marvellous  being  to  whom  the 
only  great  thing  is  Himself.  A  world 
is  to  Him  an  atom,  and  an  atom  is  to 


92 


god's  provision  for  the  poor. 


Him  a  world.  And  as,  therefore,  he 
cannot  be  mastered  by  what  is  vast  and 
enormous,  so  he  cannot  overlook  what 
is  minute  and  insignificant.  There  is 
not,  then,  a  smile  on  a  poor  man's 
cheek,  and  there  is  not  a  tear  in  a  poor 
man's  eye,  either  of  which  is  indepen- 
dent on  the  providence  of  Him  who 
gilds,  with  the  lustre  of  his  coun- 
tenance, the  unlimited  concave,  and 
measures,  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  the 
waters  of  fathomless  oceans.  And  that 
"the  poor  have  the  Gospel  preached  to 
them,"  Matt.  1 1 :  5,  is  one  of  the  strong- 
est evidences  on  the  side  of  Christiani- 
ty. It  was  given  to  John  the  Baptist 
as  a  mark  by  which  he  might  prove 
Christ  the  promised  Messiah. "He  might 
hence  learn  that  Jesus  had  come,  not 
to  make  God  known,  exclusively,  to 
the  learned  and  great;  but  that,  break- 
ing loose  from  the  trammels  of  a  figura- 
tive dispensation,  he  was  dealing  with 
the  mechanic  at  his  wheel,  and  with 
the  slave  at  his  drudgery,  and  with  the 
beggar  in  his  destitution.  Had  Christ 
sent  to  the  imprisoned  servant  of  the 
Lord,  and  told  him  he  was  fascinating 
the  philosopher  with  sublime  disclo- 
sures of  the  nature  of  Deity,  and  draw- 
ing after  him  the  learned  of  the  earth 
by  powerful  and  rhetorical  delineations 
of  the  wonders  of  the  invisible  world  ; 
that,  all  the  while,  he  had  no  communi- 
cations for  the  poor  and  commonplace 
crowd ;  why,  John  might  have  been 
dazzled,  for  a  time,  by  the  splendor  of 
his  miracles,  and  he  might  have  mused, 
wonderingly,  on  the  displayed  ascen- 
dancy over  diseases  and  death;  but, 
quickly,  he  must  have  thought,  this  is 
not  revealing  God  to  the  ignorant  and 
destitute,  and  this  cannot  be  the  reli- 
gion designed  for  all  nations  and  ranks. 
But  when  the  announcement  of  won- 
der workings  was  followed  by  the  decla- 
ration that  glad  tidings  of  deliverance 
were  being  published  to  the  poor,  the 
Baptist  would  readily  perceive,  that 
the  long  looked-for  close  to  a  limited 
dispensation  was  contemplated  in  the 
mission  of  Jesus  ;  that  Jesus,  in  short, 
was  introducing  precisely  the  system 
which  Messiah  might  be  expected  to 
introduce;  and  thus,  finding  that  the 
doctrines  bore  out  the  miracles,  he 
would  admit  at  once  his  pretensions, 
not  merely  because  he  gave  sight  to 
the  blind,  but  because,  preaching  the 


Gospel  to  the  ignorant,  he  showed  that 
God,  of  his  goodness,  had  prepared  for 
the  poor. 

And  that  the  Gospel  should  be  adapt- 
ed, as  well  as  preached,  to  the  poor — 
adapted  in  credentials  as  well  as  in 
doctrines — this  is  one  of  those  ar- 
rangements, which,  as  devised,  show 
infinite  love,  as  executed,  infinite  wis- 
dom. Who  will  deny  that  God  hath 
thrown  himself  into  Christianity,  even 
as  into  the  system  of  the  visible  uni- 
verse, since  the  meanest  can  trace  his 
footsteps,  and  feel  themselves  environ- 
ed with  the  marchings  of  the  Eternal 
One  1  Oh,  we  do  think  it  cause  of 
mighty  gratulation,  in  days  when  in- 
fidelity, no  longer  confining  itself  to 
literary  circles,  has  gone  down  to  the 
homes  and  haunts  of  our  peasantry, 
and  seeks  to  prosecute  an  irapiouK 
crusade  amongst  the  very  lowest  of 
our  people — we  do  think  it  cause  of 
mighty  gratulation,  that  God  should 
have  thus  garrisoned  the  poor  against 
the  inroads  of  scepticism.  We  have 
no  fears  for  the  vital  and  substantial 
Christianity  of  the  humbler  classes  of 
society.  They  may  seem,  at  first  sight, 
unequipped  for  the  combat.  On  a  hu- 
man calculation,  it  might  mount  almost 
to  a  certainty,  that  infidel  publications, 
or  infidel  men,  working  their  way  into 
the  cottages  of  the  land,  would  gain 
an  easy  victory,  and  bear  down,  with- 
out difficulty,  the  faith  and  piety  of 
the  unprepared  inmates.  But  God  has 
had  a  care  for  the  poor  of  the  flock. 
He  loves  them  too  well  to  leave  them 
defenceless.  And  now — appealing  to 
that  witness  which  every  one  who  be- 
lieves will  find  in  himself — we  can  feel 
that  the  Christianity  of  the  illiterate  has 
in  it  as  much  of  stamina  as  the  Chris- 
tianity of  the  educated;  and  we  can, 
therefore,  be  confident  that  the  scep- 
ticism which  shrinks  from  the  batte- 
ries of  the  learned  theologian,  will 
gain  no  triumphs  at  the  firesides  of 
our  God-fearing  rustics. 

We  thank  thee,  0  Father  of  heaven 
and  earth,  that  thou  hast  thus  made 
the  Gospel  of  thy  Son  its  own  witness, 
and  its  own  rampart.  We  thank  thee 
that  thou  didst  so  breathe  thyself  into 
apostles  and  prophets,  that  their  wri- 
tings are  thine  utterance,  and  declare 
to  all  ages  thine  authorship.  And  now, 
what  have  we  to  ask,  but  that,  if  there 


ST.    PAUL    A    TENT-MAKER. 


93 


be  one  here  who  has  hitherto  been 
stouthearted  and  unbelieving,  the  de- 
livered word  may  prove  itself  divine, 
by  "piercing  even  to  the  dividing 
asunder  of  soul  and  spirit;"  Heb.  4: 
12;  and  that,  whilst  we  announce  that 
"God  is  angry  with  the  wicked;" 
Psalm  7:11;  that  those  who  forget 
Him  shall  be  turned  into  hell;  but 
that,  nevertheless,  he  hath  "  so  loved 
the  world  as  to  give  his  only-begotten 
Son,"  John,  3  :  16,  for  its  redemption 


— oh,  we  ask  that  the  careless  one, 
hearing  truths  at  once  so  terrifying, 
and  so  encouraging,  may  be  humbled 
to  the  dust,  and  yet  animated  with 
hope ;  and  that,  stirred  by  the  divinity 
which  embodies  itself  in  the  message, 
he  may  flee,  "poor  in  spirit,"  Mat.  5: 
3,  to  Jesus,  and,  drawing  out  of  his 
fulness,  be  enabled  to  testify  to  all 
around,  that  "thou,  0  God,  hast  of 
thy  goodness  prepared  for  the  poor.'* 


SERMON    IX. 


ST.    PAUL    A    TENT-MAKER. 


"And  because  he  was  of  the  same  craft,  he  abode  with  them  and  wrought,  for  by  their  occupation 
they  were  tent-makers." — Acts,  18  :  3. 


The  argument  which  may  be  drawn, 
in  support  of  Christianity,  from  the 
humble  condition  of  its  earliest  teach- 
ers, is  often,  and  fairly,  insisted  on  in 
disputations  with  the  sceptic.  We 
scarcely  know  a  finer  vantage-ground, 
on  which  the  champion  of  truth  can 
plant  himself,  than  that  of  the  greater 
credulity  which  must  be  shown  in  the 
rejection,  than  in  the  reception,  of 
Christianity.  We  mean  to  assert,  in 
spite  of  the  tauntings  of  those  most 
thorough  of  all  bondsmen,  free-think- 
ers, that  the  faith  required  from  deni- 
ers  of  revelation  is  far  larger  than  that 
demanded  from  its  advocates.  He  who 
thinks  that  the  setting  up  of  Christiani- 
ty may  satisfactorily  be  accounted  for 
on  the  supposition  of  its  falsehood, 
taxes  credulity  a  vast  deal  more  than 
he  who  believes  all  the  prodigies,  and 
all  the  miracles,  recorded  in  Scripture. 
The  most  marvellous  of  all  prodigies, 
and  the  most  surpassing  of  all  mira- 


cles, would  be  the  progress  of  the  chris- 
tian religion,  supposing  it  untrue.  And, 
assuredly,  he  who  has  wrought  himself 
into  the  belief  that  such  a  wonder  has 
been  exhibited,  can  have  no  right  to 
boast  himself  shrewder,  and  more  cau- 
tious, than  he  who  holds,  that,  at  hu- 
man bidding,  the  sun  stood  still,  or  that 
tempests  were  hushed,  and  graves  ri- 
fled, at  the  command  of  one  "  found  in 
fashion"  as  ourselves.  The  fact  that 
Christianity  strode  onward  with  a  re- 
sistless march,  making  triumphant  way 
against  the  banded  power,  and  learn- 
ing, and  prejudices  of  the  world — this 
fact,  we  say,  requires  to  be  accounted 
for  ;  and  inasmuch  as  there  is  no  room 
for  questioning  its  accuracy,  we  ask, 
in  all  justice,  to  be  furnished  with  its 
explanation.  We  turn,  naturally,  from 
the  result  to  the  engines  by  Avhich,  to 
all  human  appearance,  the  result  was 
brought  round ;  from  the  system  preach, 
ed  to  the  preachers  themselves.  Were 


94 


ST.    PAUL    A   TENT-MAKER. 


those  who  first  propounded  Christiani- 
ty men  who,  from  station  in  society, 
and  influence  over  their  fellows,  were 
likely  to  succeed  in  palming  falsehood 
on  the  world  1  Were  they  possessed  of 
such  machinery  of  intelligence,  and 
wealth,  and  might,  and  science,  that — 
every  allowance  being  made  for  human 
credulity  and  human  infatuation — there 
would  appear  the  very  lowest  proba- 
bility, that,  having  forged  a  lie,  they 
could  have  caused  it  speedily  to  be 
venerated  as  truth,  and  carried  along 
the  earth's  diameter  amid  the  worship- 
pings of  thousands  of  the  earth's  popu- 
lation 1  We  have  no  intention,  on  the 
present  occasion,  of  pursuing  the  argu- 
ment. But  we  are  persuaded  that  no 
candid  mind  can  observe  the  speed  with 
which  Christianity  overran  the  civilized 
world,  compelling  the  homage  of  kings, 
and  casting  down  the  altars  of  long- 
cherished  superstitions  ;  and  then  com- 
pare the  means  with  the  effect — the 
apostles,  men  of  low  birth,  and  poor 
education,  backed  by  no  authority,  and 
possessed  of  none  of  those  high-wrought 
endowments  which  mark  out  the  a- 
chievers  of  difficult  enterprise — we  are 
persuaded,  we  say,  that  no  candid  mind 
can  set  what  was  done  side  by  side  with 
the  apparatus  through  which  it  was  ef- 
fected, and  not  confess,  that,  of  all  in- 
credible things,  the  most  incredible 
would  be,  that  a  few  fishermen  of  Gali- 
lee vanquished  the  world,  upheaving  its 
idolatries,  and  mastering  its  prejudices, 
and  yet  that  their  only  weapon  was  a 
lie,  their  only  mechanism  jugglery  and 
deceit. 

And  this  it  is  which  the  sceptic  be- 
lieves. Yea,  on  his  belief  of  this  he 
grounds  claims  to  a  sounder,  and 
shrewder,  and  less  fettered  understand- 
ing, than  belongs  to  the  mass  of  his 
fellows.  He  deems  it  the  mark  of  a 
weak  and  ill-disciplined  intellect  to  ad- 
mit the  truth  of  Christ's  raising  the 
dead  ;  but  appeals,  in  proof  of  a  stanch 
and  well-informed  mind,  to  his  belief 
that  this  whole  planet  was  convulsed 
by  the  blow  of  an  infant.  He  scorns 
the  narrow-mindedness  of  submission 
to  what  he  calls  priestcraft ;  but  counts 
himself  large-minded,  because  he  ad- 
mits that  a  priestcraft,  only  worthy  his 
contempt,  ground  into  powder  every 
system  which  he  thinks  worthy  of  his 
admiration.    He  laughs  at  the  credu- 


lity of  supposing  that  God  had  to  do 
with  the  institution  of  Christianity  ;  and 
then  applauds  the  sobriety  of  referring 
to  chance  what  bears  all  the  marks  of 
design — proving  himself  rational  by 
holding  that  causes  are  not  necessary 
to  effects. 

Thus  we  recur  to  our  position,  that, 
if  the  charge  of  credulity  must  be  fast- 
ened on  either  the  opponents,  or  the 
advocates,  of  Christianity,  then,  of  the 
two,  the  opponents  lie  vastly  most  open 
to  the  accusation.  Men  pretend  to  a 
more  than  ordinary  wisdom  because 
they  reject,  as  incredible,  occurrences 
and  transactions  which  others  account 
for  as  supernatural.  But  where  is  their 
much-vaunted  wisdom,  when  it  can  be 
shown,  to  a  demonstration,  that  they 
admit  things  a  thousand-fold  stranger 
than  those,  which,  with  all  the  parade 
of  intellectual  superiority,  they  throw 
from  them  as  too  monstrous  for  cre- 
dence 1  We  give  it  you  as  a  truth,  sus- 
ceptible of  the  rigor  of  mathematical 
proof,  that  the  phenomena  of  Christiani- 
ty can  only  be  explained  by  conceding 
its  divinity.  If  Christianity  came  from 
God,  there  is  an  agency  adequate  to 
the  result ;  and  you  can  solve  its  mak- 
ing way  amongst  the  nations.  But  if 
Christianity  came  not  from  God,  no 
agency  can  be  assigned  at  all  commen- 
surate with  the  result ;  and  you  cannot 
account  for  its  marchings  over  the  face 
of  the  earth.  So  that  when — setting 
aside  every  other  consideration — we 
mark  the  palpable  unfitness  of  the  apos- 
tles for  devising,  and  carrying  into 
effect,  a  grand  scheme  of  imposture, 
we  feel  that  we  do  right  in  retorting 
on  the  sceptic  the  often-urged  charge 
of  credulity.  We  tell  him,  that,  if  it 
prove  a  clear-sighted  intellect,  to  be- 
lieve that  unsupported  men  would 
league  in  an  enterprise  which  was  no- 
thing less  than  a  crusade  against  the 
world;  that  ignorant  men  could  con- 
coct a  system  overpassing,  confessedlj', 
the  wisdom  of  the  noblest  of  the  hea- 
then; and  that  the  insignificant  and 
unequipped  band  would  go  through  fire 
and  water,  brave  the  lion  and  dare  the 
stake,  knowing,  all  the  while,  that  they 
battled  for  a  lie,  and  crowned,  all  the 
while,  with  overpowering  success — 
ay,  we  tell  the  sceptic,  that,  if  a  belief 
such  as  this  prove  a  clear-sighted  in- 
tellect, he  is  welcome  to  the  laurels  of 


ST.    PAUL    A    TENT-MAKER. 


95 


reason  :  and  we,  for  our  part,  shall  con- 
tentedly herd  with  the  irrational,  who 
are  weak  enough  to  think  it  credible 
that  the  apostles  were  messengers  from 
God ;  and  only  incredible  that  moun- 
tains fell  when  there  was  nothing  to 
shake  them,  and  oceans  dried  up  when 
there  was  nothing  to  drain  them,  and 
that  there  pasesd  over  a  creation  an  un- 
measured revolution,  without  a  cause, 
and  without  a  mover,  and  without  a 
Deity. 

Now  we  have  advanced  these  hur- 
ried remarks  on  a  well-known  topic  of 
christian  advocacy,  because   our  text 
leads  us,  as  it  were,   into  the  work- 
shop of  the  first  teachers  of  our  faith, 
and   thus    forces  on  us   the    contem- 
plation  of  their   lowly  and    destitute 
estate.    It  is  not,  however,  our  design 
to  pursue  further  the  argument.    We 
may  derive  other,  and  not  less  impor- 
tant, lessons  from   the   simple   exhibi- 
tion of  Paul,  and  Aquila,  and  Priscilla, 
plying  their  occupation  as  tent-makers. 
It  should  just  be  premised,  that,  so  far 
as  Paul  himself  is  concerned,  we  must 
set  down  his  laboring  for  a  living  as 
actually  a  consequence  on  his  preach- 
ing Christianity.    Before  he  engaged  in 
the  service  of  Christ,  he  had  occupied 
a  station  in  the  upper  walks  of  society, 
and  was  not,  we  may  believe,  depen- 
dent on  his  industry  for  his  bread.     It 
was,  however,  the  custom  of  the  Jews 
to  teach  children,  whatever  the  rank 
of  their  parents,  some  kind  of  handi- 
craft ;  so  that,  in  case  of  a  reverse  of 
circumstances,  they  might  have  a  re- 
source to  which  to  betake  themselves. 
We  conclude  that,  in  accordance  with 
this  custom,  St.  Paul,  as  a  boy,  had 
learned  the  art  of  tent-making  ;  though 
he  may  not  have  exercised  it  for  a  sub- 
sistence until  he  had  spent  all  in  the 
service  of  Jesus.  We  appeal  not,  there- 
fore, to  the  instance  of  this  great  apos- 
tle to  the   Gentiles  as  confirming,  in 
every  respect,  our  foregoing  argument. 
St.  Paul  v.'as  eminent  both  for  learning 
and  talent.  And  it  would  not,  therefore, 
be  just  to  reason  from  his  presumed 
incompetency  to  carry  on  a  difficult 
scheme,  since,  at  the  least,  he  was  not 
disqualified    for    undertakings    which 
crave    a  master-spirit   at   their   head. 
It  is  certain,  however,  that,  in  these 
respects,  St.  Paul  was  an  exception  to 
the  rest  of  the  first  preachers  of  Chris- 


tianity. Our  general  reasoning,  there- 
fore, remains  quite  unaffected,  what- 
ever be  urged  in  regard  to  a  particular 
case. 

But  we  have  already  said,  that  the 
main  business  of  our  discourse  is  to 
derive  other  lessons  from  our  text  than 
that  Avhich  refers  to  the  evidences  of 
Christianity.  We  wave,  therefore,  fur- 
ther inquiry  into  that  proof  of  the  di- 
vinity of  the  system  which  is  furnished 
by  the  poverty  of  the  teachers.  We 
will  sit  down,  as  it  were,  by  St.  Paul 
whilst  busied  with  his  tent-making; 
and,  considering  who  and  what  the  in- 
dividual is  who  thus  lives  by  his  arti- 
sanship,  draw  that  instruction  from  the 
scene  which  we  may  suppose  it  intend- 
ed to  furnish. 

Now  called  as  St.  Paul  had  been  by 
miracle  to  the  apostleship  of  Christ,  so 
that  he  was  suddenly  transformed  from 
a  persecutor  into  a  preacher  of  the 
faith,  we  might  well  look  to  find  in  him 
a  pre-eminent  zeal ;  just  as  though  the 
unearthly  light,  which  flashed  across 
his  path,  had  entered  into  his  heart, 
and  lit  up  there  a  fire  inextinguishable 
by  the  deepest  waters  of  trouble.  And 
it  is  beyond  all  peradventure,  that  there 
never  moved  upon  our  earth  a  heartier, 
more  unwearied,  more  energetic,  disci- 
ple of  Jesus.  His  motto  was  to  "  count 
all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of 
the  knowledge  of  Christ ;"  Phil.  2:8; 
and  crossing  seas,  and  exhausting  con- 
tinents, till  a  vast  portion  of  the  known 
world  had  heard  from  his  lips  the  ti- 
dings of  redemption,  he  proved  the 
mocto  engraven  on  his  soul,  and  show- 
ed that  the  desire  of  bringing  the  per- 
ishing into  acquaintance  with  a  Savior 
was  nothing  less  than  the  life's-blood 
of  his  system.  And  we  are  bound  to 
suppose,  that,  where  there  existed  so 
glowing  a  zeal,  prompting  him  to  be 
"instant  in  season,  out  of  season,"  2 
Tim.  4'  :  2,  the  irksomeness  of  mechani- 
cal labor  must  have  been  greater  than 
it  is  easy  to  compute.  Since  the  whole 
soul  was  wrapped  up  in  the  work  of  the 
ministry,  it  could  not  have  been  with- 
out a  feeling,  amounting  almost  to  pain- 
fulness,  that  the  apostle  abstracted  him- 
self from  the  business  of  his  embassage, 
and  toiled  at  providing  for  his  own  bo- 
dily necessities.  We  see,  at  once,  that 
so  far  as  any  appointment  of  God  could 
be  grievous  to  a  man  of  St.  Paul's  ex- 


96 


ST.    PAUL   A   TENr-MAKEK. 


emplary  holiness,  this  appointment  must  1 
have  been  hard  to  endure :  and  we  can- 
not contemplate  the  great  apostle,  with- 
drawn from  the  spirit-stirring  scenes  of 
his  combats  with  idolatrj^,  and  earning 
a  meal  like  a  common  artificer,  and  not 
feel,  that  the  effort  of  addressing  the 
Athenians,  congregated  on  Areopagus, 
Avas  as  nothing  to  that  of  sitting  down 
patiently  to  all  the  drudgery  of  the 
craftsman. 

But  we  go  on  to  infer  from  these  un- 
questionable facts,  that,  unless  there 
had  been  great  ends  which  St.  Paul's 
laboring  subserved,  God  would  not  have 
permitted  this  sore  exercise  of  his  ser- 
vant. There  is  allotted  to  no  christian 
a  trial  without  a  reason.  And  if  tben 
we  are  once  certified,  that  the  working 
for  his  bread  was  a  trial  to  St.  Paul,  we 
must  go  forward  and  investigate  the 
reasons  of  the  appointment. 

Now  we  learn  from  the  epistles  of 
St.  Paul,  that  when  he  refused  to  be 
maintained  by  the  churches  which  he 
planted,  it  was  through  fear  that  the 
success  of  his  preaching  might  be  in- 
terfered with  by  suspicions  of  his  dis- 
interestedness. He  chose  to  give  the 
Gospel  without  cost,  in  order  that  his 
enemies  might  have  no  plea  for  repre- 
senting him  as  an  hireling,  and  thus  de- 
preciating his  message.  In  this  respect 
he  appears  to  have  acted  differently 
from  the  other  apostles,  since  we  find 
him  thus  expostulating  with  the  Corin- 
thians :  "  have  we  not  power  to  eat  and 
to  drink'?  or  I  only  and  Barnabas,  have 
not  we  power  to  forbear  working  ]"  1 
Cor.  9  :  4,  6.  He  evidently  argues,  that, 
had  he  so  pleased,  he  might  justly  have 
done  what  his  fellow-apostles  did,  re- 
ceive temporal  benefits  from  those  to 
whom  they  were  the  instruments  of 
communicating  spiritual.  It  was  a  law, 
whose  justice  admitted  not  of  contro- 
versy, that  "  the  laborer  is  worthy  of 
his  hire."  1  Tim.  5  :  18.  And,  there- 
fore, however  circumstances  might 
arise,  rendering  it  advisable  that  the 
right  should  be  waved,  St.  Paul  desired 
the  Corinthians  to  understand,  that,  had 
he  chosen,  he  might  have  claimed  the 
sustenance  for  which  he  was  contented 
to  toil.  It  was  a  right,  and  not  a  favor, 
which  he  waved.  And  if  there  were  no 
other  lesson  deducible  from  the  manual 
occupation  of  the  apostle,  we  should 
do  well  to  ponder  the  direction  thus 


practically  given,  that  we  remove  all 
occasions  of  offence.  St.  Paul  gave  up 
even  his  rights,  fearing  lest  their  en- 
forcement might  possibly  impede  the 
progress  of  the  Gospel.  So  single-eyed 
was  this  great  teacher  of  the  Gentiles, 
that  when  the  reception  of  the  mes- 
sage, and  the  maintenance  of  the  mes- 
senger, seemed  at  all  likely  to  clash, 
he  would  gladly  devote  the  day  to  the 
service  of  others,  and  then  toil  through 
the  night  to  make  provision  for  himself. 
If  ever,  therefore,  it  happen,  either  to 
minister  or  to  people,  to  find  that  the 
pushing  a  claim,  or  the  insisting  on  a 
right  would  bring  discredit,  though  un- 
justly and  wrongfully,  on  the  cause  of 
religion  ;  let  it  be  remembered  that  our 
prime  business,  as  professors  of  godli- 
ness, is  with  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
advance  of  the  Gospel ;  that  the  avoid- 
ing evil  is  a  great  thing,  but  that  the 
scriptural  requisition  is,  that  we  avoid 
even  the  "  appearance  of  evil."  1  Thess. 
5  :  22.  And  if  there  seem  to  us  a  hard- 
ness in  this,  so  that  we  count  it  too 
much  of  concession,  that  we  fall  back 
from  demands  which  strict  justice 
would  warrant,  let  us  betake  ourselves, 
for  an  instant,  to  the  workshop  of  St. 
Paul ;  and  there  remembering,  whilst 
this  servant  of  Christ  is  fashioning  the 
canvass,  that  he  labors  for  bread,  which, 
by  an  indisputable  title,  is  already  his 
own,  we  may  learn' it  a  christian's  duty 
to  allow  himself  to  be  wronged,  when, 
by  stanch  standing  to  his  rights,  Christ's 
cause  may  be  injured. 

But  as  yet  we  are  only  on  the  out- 
skirts of  our  subject.  The  grand  field 
of  inquiry  still  remains  to  be  traversed. 
We  have  seen,  that,  in  order  to  fore- 
close all  question  of  his  sincerity  and 
disinterestedness,  St.  Paul  chose  to  ply 
at  his  tent-making  rather  than  derive  a 
maintenance  from  his  preaching.  We 
next  observe,  that,  l>ad  not  his  poverty 
been  on  other  accounts  advantageous, 
we  can  scarcely  think  that  this  single 
reason  would  have  procured  its  permis- 
sion. He  might  have  refused  to  draw 
an  income  from  his  converts,  and  yet 
not  have  been  necessitated  to  betake 
himself  to  handicraft.  We  know  that 
God  could  have  poured  in  upon  him, 
through  a  thousand  channels,  the  means 
of  subsistence  ;  and  we  believe,  there- 
fore, that  had  his  toiling  subserved  no 
end  but  the  removal  of  causes  of  of- 


ST.    PAUL    A    TENT-MAKER. 


97 


fence,  his  wants  would  have  been  sup- 
plied, though  without  any  burden  on 
the  churches.  So  that  the  question 
comes  before  us,  unsolved  and  unex- 
amined, why  was  it  permitted  that  St. 
Paul,  in  the  midst  of  his  exertions  as  a 
minister  of  Christ,  should  be  compelled 
to  support  himself  by  manual  occupa- 
tion 1  We  think  that  two  great  reasons 
may  be  advanced,  each  of  which  will 
deserve  a  careful  examination.  In  the 
first  place,  God  hereby  put  much  honor 
upon  industry :  in  the  second  place, 
God  hereby  showed,  that  where  he  has 
appointed  means,  he  will  not  work  by 
miracles.  We  will  take  these  reasons 
in  succession,  proceeding  at  once  to 
endeavor  to  prove,  that,  in  leaving  St. 
Paul  to  toil  as  a  tent-maker,  God  put 
much  honor  upon  industry. 

Now  it  is  true  that  the  appointment, 
"  in  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou 
eat  bread,"  Gen.  3  :  19,  was  part  of  the 
original  malediction  which  apostacy 
caused  to  be  breathed  over  this  crea- 
tion. But  it  is  equally  true  that  labor 
was  God's  ordinance  whilst  man  kept 
unsullied  his  loyalty,  and  that  it  was 
not  bound  upon  our  race  as  altogether 
a  consequence  on  transgression.  We 
may  not  believe  that  in  paradise  labor 
could  ever  have  been  wearisome  ;  but 
we  know  that,  from  the  first,  labor  was 
actually  man's  business.  W^e  are  told, 
in  the  book  of  Genesis,  that  when  the 
Lord  God  had  planted  the  garden,  and 
fashioned  man  after  his  own  image, 
he  took  the  man  and  put  him  into  the 
garden,  to  dress  it,  and  to  keep  it.'' 
Gen.  2  :  15.  There  was  no  curse  upon 
the  ground;  and,  therefore,  we  sup- 
pose not  that  it  required,  ere  it  would 
give  forth  a  produce,  the  processes  of 
a  diligent  husbandry.  But,  neverthe- 
less, it  is  clear  that  the  resting  of  God's 
first  blessing  on  the  soil  put  not  aside 
all  necessity  of  culture.  Man  was  a 
laborer  from  the  beginning:  God's  ear- 
liest ordinance  appearing  to  have  been 
that  man  should  not  be  an  idler.  So 
that  whilst  we  admit  that  all  that  pain- 
fulness  and  exhaustion,  which  waits 
ordinarily  upon  human  occupation, 
must  be  traced  up  to  disobedience  as  a 
parent,  we  contend  that  employment  is 
distinctly  God's  institution  for  man- 
kind, no  reference  whatsoever  being 
made  to  the  innocence  or  guiltiness  of 
the  race.    G^^d   sanctified  the  seventh 


day  as  a  day  of  rest,  before  Adam  dis- 
obeyed, and  thus  marked  out  six  days 
as  days  of  labor  and  employment,  be- 
fore sin  sowed  the  seeds  of  the  thorn 
and  the  thistle.  We  may  suppose,  that, 
previously  to  the  fall,  labor,  so  to  speak, 
was  just  one  department  of  piety  ;  and 
that  in  tilling  the  ground,  or  watching 
the  herds,  man  was  as  religiously  occu- 
pied as  when  communing  with  God  in 
distinct  acts  of  devotion.  The  great 
and  fatal  alteration  which  sin  has  intro- 
duced into  labor,  is,  that  a  wide  sepa- 
ration has  been  made  between  tempo- 
ral business  and  spiritual ;  so  that, 
whilst  engaged  in  providing  for  the 
body,  we  seem,  wholly  detached  from 
paying  attention  to  the  concerns  of  the 
soul.  But  we  hold  it  of  first-rate  im- 
portance to  teach  men  that  this  sepa- 
ration is  of  their  own  making,  and 
not  of  God's  appointing.  God  ordain- 
ed labor :  and  God  also  ordained  that 
man's  great  business  on  earth  should 
be  to  secure  his  soul's  safety  through 
eternity.  And  unless,  therefore,  we 
admit  that  the  work  of  the  soul's  sal- 
vation may  be  actually  advanced  by,  and 
through,  our  worldly  occupations,  we 
set  one  ordinance  of  God  against  an- 
other, and  represent  ourselves  as  im-- 
peded,  by  the  appointments  of  our  Ma- 
ker, in  the  very  business  most  pressed 
on  our  performance.  The  matter-of- 
fact  is,  that  God  may  as  truly  be  served 
by  the  husbandman  whilst  ploughing 
up  his  ground,  and  by  the  manufactu- 
rer Avhilst  toiling  at  his  loom,  and  by 
the  merchant  whilst  engaged  in  his 
commerce,  as  he  can  be  by  any  of 
these  men  when  gathered  by  the  Sab- 
bath-bell to  the  solemn  assembly.  It  is 
a  perfect  libel  on  religion,  to  represent 
the  honest  trades  of  mankind  as  aught 
else  but  the  various  methods  in  which 
God  maybe  honored  and  obeyed.  We 
do  not  merely  mean  that  worldly  occu- 
pations maybe  followed  without  harm 
done  to  the  soul.  This  would  be  no 
vindication  of  God's  ordinance  of  la- 
bor. We  mean  that  they  may  be  fol- 
lowed with  benefit  to  the  soul.  When 
God  led  the  eastern  magi  to  Christ,  he 
led  them  by  a  star.  He  attacked  them, 
so  to  speak,  through  the  avenue  of 
their  profession.  Their  great  employ- 
ment was  that  of  observing  the  heaven- 
ly bodies.  And  God  sanctified  their 
astronomy.  He  might  have  taught  them 
13 


98 


ST.    PAUL    A    TEM-MAKER. 


by  other  methods  which  seem  to  us 
more  direct.  But  it  pleased  Him  to 
put  honor  on  their  occupation,  and  to 
Avrite  his  lessons  in  that  glittering  al- 
phabet with  which  their  studies  had 
made  them  especially  conversant.  We 
believe,  in  like  manner,  that  if  men 
went  to  their  daily  employments  with 
something  of  the  temper  which   they 


nent  piety  ;  and  that,  so  far  from  the 
pressure  of  secular  employment  being 
a  valid  excuse  for  slow  progress  in 
godliness,  a  man  may  have  to  struggle 
against  absolute  pauperism,  and  yet 
grow,  every  moment,  a  more  admir- 
able christian.  Oh,  there  is  something 
in  this  representation  of  the  honor  put 
by  God  upon   industry,  which   should 


bring  to   the  ordinances  of  grace,  ex-  tell  powerfully  on  the  feelings  of  those 


pecting  to  receive  messages  from  God 
through  trade,  and  through  labor,  as 
well  as  through  preaching  and  a  com- 
munion, there  would  be  avast  advanc- 
ing towards  spiritual  excellence;  and 
men's  experience  would  be,  that  the 
Almighty  can  bring  them  into  acquaint- 
ance Avith  himself,  by  the  ploughshare, 
and  the  balances,  and  the  cargo,  no 
less  than  by  the  homily,  and  the  closet 
exercises,  and  the  public  devotions. 
There  would  be  an  anticipation  of  the 
glorious  season,  sketched  out  by  pro- 
phecy, when  "  there  shall  be  upon  the 
bells  of  the  horses,  holiness  unto  the 
Lord,  and  the  pots  in  the  Lord's  house 
shall  be  like  the  bowls  before  the  al- 
tar."   Zechariah,  U  :  20. 

We  give  this  as  our  belief;  and  we 
advance  as  our  reason,  the  fact  that  la- 
bor is  the  ordinance  of  God.  We  Avill 
not  have  industry  set  against  piety  ;  as 
though  the  little  time  which  men  can 
snatch  from  secular  engagements  were 
the  only  time  which  they  can  give  to 
their   Maker.     They   may  give  all  to 


to  whom  life  is  one  long  striving  for 
the  means  of  subsistence.  It  were  as 
nothing  to  tell  men,  you  may  be  good 
christians  in  spite  of  your  engrossing 
employments.  The  noble  truth  is,  that 
these  employments  may  be  so  many 
helpers  on  of  religion ;  and  that,  in 
place  of  serving  as  leaden  Aveights, 
which  retard  a  disciple  in  his  celestial 
career,  they  may  be  as  the  well-plumed 
wings,  accelerating  gloriously  the  on- 
ward progress.  In  laboring  to  support 
himself,  St.  Paul  labored  to  advance 
Christ's  cause.  And  though  there  be 
not  always  the  same  well  defined  con- 
nection between  our  toils  for  a  liveli- 
hood and  the  interests  of  religion,  yet, 
let  a  connection  be  practically  sought 
after,  and  it  will  always  be  practically 
found.  The  case  exists  not  in  which, 
after  making  it  obligatory  on  a  man 
that  he  work  for  his  bread,  God  has 
not  arranged,  that,  in  thus  working,  he 
may  work  also  for  tlie  well-being  of  his 
soul.  If  ever,  therefore,  we  met  with 
an  individual  who  pleaded   that  there 


God,  and,  nevertheless,  be  compelled  were  already  so  many  calls  upon  his 
to  rise  early,  and  late  take  rest,  in  or-  time  that  he  could  not  find  leisure  to 
der  to  earn  a  scanty  subsistence.  And !  give  heed  to  religion,  we  should  not 
we  think,  that,  in   placing  an   apostle  j  immediately  bear  down  upon  him  with 


under  the  necessity  of  laboring  for 
bread,  God  assigned  precisely  that  cha- 
racter to  industry  for  which  we  con- 


the  charge — though  it  might  be  a  just 
one — of  an  undue  pursuit  of  the  things 
of  this  earth.     We  should  only  require 


tend.  We  learn,  from  the  exhibition  '  of  him  to  show  that  his  employments 
of  our  text,  that  there  is  no  inconsis- !  were  scripturally  lawful,  both  in  nature 
tency  between  the  being  a  devoted  ser-  j  and  intenscness.  We  should  then  meet 
vant  of  Christ,  and  the  folloAving  assi-  j  him,  at  once,  on  the  ground  of  this  law- 
duously  a  toilsome  occupation.  Nay,  1  fulness.  We  should  tell  him  that  em- 
we  learn  that  it  may  be,  literally,  as  the  ployments  were  designed  to  partake  of 
servant  of  Christ  that  man  follows  the  [the  nature  of  sacraments;  that,  in  place 
occupation;  for  it  was,  as  we  have  of  their  being  excuses  for  his  not  serv- 
sbown  you,  with  decided  reference  to  j  ing  God,  they  were  appointed  as  instru- 
the  interests  of  religion,  that  St.  Paul  ments  by  which  he  might  serve  Him; 
joined  Aquila  and  Priscilla  in  tent-mak-  'and  that,  consequently,  it  was  only  be- 
ing. At  the  least,  there  is  a  registered  j  cause  he  had  practically  dissolved  apart- 
demonstration  in  the  case  of  this  apos-  nership  v.'hich  the  Almighty  had  formed, 
tie,  that  unweared  industry — for  he  the  partnership  between  industry  and 
elsewhere  declares  that  he  labored  day  j  piety,  that  he  was  driving  on,  with  a 
and  night — may  consist  with  prc-emi-   reckless  speed,  to  a  disastrous  and  des- 


ST.    PAUL    A    TENT-MAKER. 


99 


peratc  bankruptcy.  And  if  he  pretended 
to  doubt  that  piety  and  industry  have 
thus  been  associated  by  God,  we  would 
take  him  with  us  into  the  work-cham- 
ber of  St.  Paul;  and  there  showing  him 
the  apostle  toiling  against  want,  and 
yet,  in  toiling,  serving  Christ  Jesus — 
subsisting  by  his  artisanship,  and  yet 
feeding  the  zeal  of  his  soul  by  and 
through  his  labors  for  the  support  of 
his  body — we  would  tell  the  questioner, 
that  God  thus  caused  a  mighty  speci- 
men to  be  given  of  an  instituted  con- 
nection between  secular  employment 
and  spiritual  improvement ;  and  whilst 
we  send  him  to  the  writings  of  St.  Paul 
that  he  may  learn  what  it  is  to  be  in- 
dustriously religious,  we  send  him  to 
the  tent-making  of  St.  Paul  that  he  may 
learn  what  it  is  to  be  religiously  indus- 
trious. 

Now  we  might  insist  at  greater  length, 
if  not  pressed  by  the  remainder  of  our 
subject,  on  the  honor  which  God  put 
upon  industry  when  he  left  St.  Paul  to 
toil  for  a  maintenance.  But  we  leave 
this  point  to  be  further  pondered  in 
your  private  meditations.  We  go  on, 
according  to  the  arrangements  of  our 
discourse,  to  open  up  the  second  rea- 
son which  we  ventured  to  assign  for 
this  allowed  dependence  of  an  apostle 
upon  labor  for  subsistence. 

We  stated  as  our  second  reason,  that 
God  designed  hereby  to  inform  us,  that 
where  he  has  appointed  means  he  will 
not  work  by  miracles.  We  observe  that 
unto  St.  Paul  had  been  given  a  super- 
human energy,  so  that,  when  it  was  re- 
quired as  a  witness  to  his  doctrine,  he 
could  remove  diseases  by  a  word  or  a 
touch,  and  even  restore  life  to  the  dead. 
V/e  have  no  distinct  information  whe- 
ther men,  thus  supernaturally  equipped, 
could  employ  the  power  at  every  time, 
and  for  every  purpose.  But  it  seems 
most  consistent  with  Scripture  and  rea- 
son to  suppose,  that,  when  specially 
moved  by  God,  they  could  always  work 
miracles  ;  but  that,  unless  thus  moved, 
their  strength  went  from  them,  and 
they  remained  no  mightier  than  their 
fellows.  It  does  not  appear  that  apos- 
tles could  have  recourse  to  wonder- 
workings  in  every  exigence  which 
might  arise.  At  least,  it  is  certain  that 
apostolical  men,  such  as  Epaphroditus 
and  Timothy,  went  through  sicknesses, 
and  sufl'ered  from  weaknesses,  without! 


being  cured  by  miracle,  and  without, 
as  it  would  seem,  being  taxed  with  de- 
ficiency of  faith,  because  they  shook 
not  off  the  malady,  or  resisted  not  its 
approaches.  When  St.  Paul  writes  to 
Timothy  in  regard  to  his  infirmities,  he 
bids  him  use  wine  as  a  medicine  ;  he 
does  not  tell  him  to  seek  faith  to  work 
a  miracle.  Yet,  beyond  all  doubt,  Ti- 
mothy had  received  the  gifts  of  the 
Spirit.  And  from  this,  and  other  in- 
stances, we  infer  that  then  only  could 
miracles  be  wrought,  when,  by  a  dis- 
tinct motion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  faith 
was  directed  to  some  particular  achieve- 
ment. It  did  not  follow  that  because 
St.  Peter,  by  a  word,  had  struck  down 
Ananias,  he  might,  by  a  word,  have  im- 
mediately afterwards  raised  him  up.  It 
was  not  at  his  option  what  direction 
the  miracle-working  faith  should  take. 
Whensoever  a  miracle  was  wrought,  it 
was  wrought,  unquestionably,  by  faith. 
But  the  faith,  first  given  by  God,  re- 
quired ever  after  to  be  stirred  into  ex- 
ercise by  God ;  so  that  no  conclusion 
could  be  more  erroneous,  than  that 
faith  must  have  been  defective,  where 
miracle  was  not  wrought. 

Now  we  advance  these  remarks,  in 
order  to  justify  our  not  claiming  for  St. 
Paul,  what,  at  first  sight,  we  are  disposed 
to  claim,  the  praise  of  extraordinary 
self-denial  in  gaining  his  bread  by  labor, 
when  he  might  have  gained  it  by  mira- 
cle. We  may  not  suppose,  that,  be- 
cause he  displayed  oftentimes  a  super- 
human power,  he  could  necessarily,  had 
he  wished  it,  have  used  that  power  in 
supplying  his  bodily  wants.  It  may 
seem  to  us  no  greater  effort,  to  multi- 
ply, as  Christ  did,  a  loaf  into  hundreds, 
than  to  command,  as  St.  Paul  did,  the 
impotent  man  at  Lystra  to  stand  up- 
right on  his  feet.  Yet  it  were  a  false 
conclusion  that  the  apostle  might  have 
done  the  one  as  w^ell  as  the  other. 

The  working  of  miracles  presuppos- 
ed, as  we  have  shown  you,  not  only 
God's  giving  the  faith,  but  also  God's 
permitting,  or  rather  God's  directing, 
its  exercise.  We  build,  therefore,  no 
statements  on  the  supposition  that  St. 
Paul  had  the  power,  but  used  it  not,  of 
procuring  food  by  miracle.  We  rather 
conclude  that  he  had  no  alternative 
whatever ;  so  that,  had  he  not  labored 
at  tent-rnaking,  he  must  have  been 
absolutely    destitute.     It    was   not  in- 


100 


ST.    PAUL    A   TENT-MAKES. 


deed  because  deficient  in  faith  that  he 
wrought  not  a  miracle.  He  had  the 
faith  by  which  lofty  hills  might  be  stir- 
red, provided  only — and  it  is  this  pro- 
viso which  men  strangely  overlook — 
that  he,  who  had  given  him  the  faith, 
directed  him  to  employ  it  on  up-heav- 
ing the  earth's  mountains. 

But  we  arc  thus  brought  down  to 
the  question,  why  was  St.  Paul  not  per- 
mitted, or  not  directed,  to  use  the  won- 
der-working energy,  in  place  of  being 
necessitated  to  apply  himself  to  ma- 
nual occupation  1  We  give  as  our  reply, 
that  God  might  hereby  have  designed 
to  communicate  the  important  truth, 
that,  where  he  has  appointed  means, 
we  are  not  to  look  for  miracles.  Labor 
was  his  own  ordinance.  So  long,  there- 
fore, as  labor  could  be  available  to  the 
procuring  subsistence,  he  would  not 
supersede  this  ordinance  by  miraculous 
interference.  There  is,  perhaps,  no  fea- 
ture more  strongly  charactered  on 
God's  dealings,  whether  in  natural 
thinrrs  or  in  spiritual,  than  that  it  is  in 
the  use  of  means,  and  in  this  alone, 
that  blessings  may  be  expected.  We 
see  clearly  that  this  is  God's  procedure 
in  reference  to  the  affairs  of  our  pre- 
sent state  of  being.  If  the  husbandman 
neglect  the  processes  of  agriculture, 
there  comes  no  miracle  to  make  up 
this  omission  of  means;  but  harvest- 
time  finds  barrenness  reigning  over  the 
estate.  If  the  merchantman  sit  with  his 
hands  folded,  when  he  ought  to  be  bu- 
sied with  shipping  his  merchandise, 
there  is  nothing  to  be  expected  but 
that  beggary  will  ensue  upon  idleness. 
And  we  hold  tliat  instances  such  as 
these,  so  familiar  that  they  are  often 
overlooked,  must  be  taken  as  illustra- 
tions of  a  great  principle  whose  work- 
ings permeate  all  God's  dispensations. 
We  would  contend  that  there  is  to  be 
traced  in  our  spiritual  affairs  that  very 
honoring  of  means  which  is  thus  ob- 
servable in  our  temporal.  We  know 
nothing  of  the  fitness,  which  some  men 
are  disposed  to  uphold,  of  waiting  the 
effectual  calling  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
so  of  making  no  efl^ort,  till  irresistibly 
moved,  to  escape  from  the  bondage  of 
corruption.  We  know  of  no  scriptural 
method  of  addressing  transgressors  but 
as  free  agents;  and  we  abjure,  as  un- 
sanctioned by  the  Bible,  every  scheme 
of  theology  which  would  make   men 


I 
I 


nothing  more  than  machines.  It  must 
lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  religion, 
whether  natural  or  revealed,  that  men 
are  responsible  beings  ;  and  responsible 
they  cannot  be,  if  placed  under  an  in- 
vincible moral  constraint,  which  allows 
no  freedom  whatsoever  of  choice.  And 
we  think  it  a  thing  to  be  sorely  lament- 
ed, that  there  goes  on  a  battling  about 
election  and  non-election  ;  the  combat- 
ants on  each  side  failing  to  perceive, 
that  they  fight  for  the  profile,  and  not 
the  full  face  of  truth.  It  seems  to  us 
as  plain  from  the  Bible  as  language  can 
make  it,  that  God  hath  elected  a  rem- 
nant to  life.  It  is  just  as  plain,  that  all 
men  are  addressed  as  capable  of  repent- 
ing, and  at  liberty  to  choose  for  them- 
selves between  life  and  death.  Thus 
we  have  scriptural  warranty  of  God's 
election  ;  and  we  have  also  scriptural 
warranty  of  man's  free  agency.  But 
how  can  these  apparently  opposite 
statements  be  reconciled  ]  1  know  not. 
The  Bible  tells  me  not.  But  because  I 
cannot  be  wise  beyond  what  is  written, 
God  forbid  that  I  should  refuse  to  be 
wise  up  to  what  is  Avritten.  Scripture 
reveals,  but  it  does  not  reconcile,  the 
two.  What  then  1  \  receive  both,  and  I 
preach  both  ;  God's  election  and  man's 
free  agency.  But  I  should  esteem  it  of 
all  presumptions  the  boldest  to  attempt 
explanation  of  the  co-existence. 

In  like  manner,  the  Bible  tells  me 
explicitly  that  Christ  was  God  ;  and  it 
tells  me,  as  explicitly,  that  Christ  was 
man.  It  does  not  go  on  to  state  the 
modus  or  manner  of  the  union.  I  stop, 
therefore,  where  the  Bible  stops.  I 
bow  before  a  God-man  as  my  Media- 
tor, but  I  own  as  inscrutable  the  mys- 
teries of  his  person. 

It  is  thus  also  with  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity.  Three  persons  are  set  be- 
fore me  as  equally  divine.  At  the  same 
time,  I  am  taught  that  there  is  only  one 
God.  How  can  the  three  be  one,  and 
the  one  be  three  1  Silent  as  the  grave 
is  the  Bible  on  this  wonder.  But  I  do 
not  reject  its  speech  because  of  its 
silence.  I  believe  in  three  divine  per- 
sons, because  told  of  a  Trinity;  I  be- 
lieve in  one  only  God,  because  told 
of  an  Unity  :  but  I  leave  to  the  deve- 
lopments of  a  noble  sphere  of  exis- 
tence the  clearing  up  the  marvel  of  a 
Trinity  in  Unitj^  M 

The  admission,  then,  of  the  co-ex-  ^ 


i 


ST.    PAUL   A   TENT-MAKER. 


101 


istence  of  election  and  free-agency  isiracles  will  be  wrought,  we  open  before 


but  the  counterpart  of  many  other  ad- 
missions which  are  made,  on  all  hands, 
by  the  believers  in  revelation.  And 
having  assured  ourselves  of  this  joint 
existence,  we  see  at  once  that  man's 


him  the  scenery  of  our  text,  and  bid 
him  behold  the  artificers  at  their  labor. 
We  tell  him,  that  around  one  of  these 
workmen  the  priests  of  Jupiter  had 
thronged,  bearing  garlands,  and  bring- 


business  is  to  set   about  the  work  of  ing   sacrifices,  because   of  a  displayed 


his  salvation,  with  all  the  ardor,  and 
all  the  pains  taking,  of  one  convinced 
that  he  cannot  perish,  except  through 
his  own  fault.  We  address  him  as  an 
immortal  creature  whose  destinies  are 
in  his  own  keeping.  We  will  hear 
nothing  of  a  secret  decree  of  God,  in- 
suring him  a  safe  passage  to  a  haven 
of  rest,  or  leaving  him  to  go  down  a 
wreck  in  the  whirlpool.  But  we  tell 
him  of  a  command  of  God,  summon- 
ing him  to  put  forth  all  his  strength, 
and  all  his  seamanship,  ere  the  break- 
ers dash    against   him,  and   the  rocks 


mastery  over  inveterate  disease.  We 
tell  him,  that,  if  there  arose  an  occasion 
demanding  the  exhibition  of  prodigy  in 
support  of  Christ's  Gospel,  this  toiling 
artisan  could  throw  aside  the  imple- 
ments of  trade,  and,  rushing  into  the 
crowded  arena,  confound  an  army  of 
opponents  by  suspending  the  known 
laws  of  nature.  And,  nevertheless,  this 
mightily-gifted  individual  must  literal- 
ly starve,  or  drudge  for  a  meal  like  the 
meanest  mechanic.  And  why  sol  why, 
but  because  it  is  a  standing  appoint- 
ment of  God,  that  miracles  shall  not 


rise  around  him.     We  thus  deal  with  :  supercede   means  1     If  there   were  no 
man  as  a  responsible  being.     You  are   means,  Paul  should  have  his  bread  by 


waiting  for  a  miracle  ;  have  you  tried 
the  means  1  You  are  trusting  to  a 
hidden  purpose  j    have  you  submitted 


miracle.  But  whilst  there  is  the  can- 
vass, and  the  cord,  and  the  sight  in  the 
eye,  and  the   strength  in  the  limb,  he 


yourselves  to  a  revealed  command  1  may  carry  on  the  trade  of  a  tent-maker. 
Sitting  still  is  no  proof  of  election.  He  has  the  tools  of  his  craft:  let  him 
Grappling  with  evil  is  a  proof;  and '  use  them  industriously,  and  not  sit  in- 
wrenching  one's-self  from  hurtful  as- !  active,  hoping  to  be  supported  miracu- 
sociations  is  a  proof;  and  studying  lously.  And,  arguing  from  this  as  a 
God's  word  is  a  proof;  and  praying  i  thorough  specimen  of  God's  ordinary 
for  assistance  is  a  proof.  He  who  re-  dealings,  we  tell  the  expectant  of  an 
solves  to  do  nothing  until  he  is  called :  effectual  call,  that  he  waits  as  an  idler 
— oh,  the  likelibood  is  beyond  calcula-  whilst  God  requires  him  to  Avork  as  a 
tion,  that  he  will  have  no  call,  till  the  |  laborer.  Where  are  the  tools'?  Why 
sheeted  dead  are  starting  at  the  trum- 1  left  on  the  ground,  when  they  should 
pet-call.  And  the  vessel — freighted  as  ;  be  in  the  hand  1  Where  are  the  means  1 
she  was  with  noble  capacities,  with  in- 1  Why  passed  over,  when  they  ought  to 
telligence,  and  reason,  and  forethought,  I  be  employed  1  Why  neglected,  when 
and  the  deep  throbbings  of  immortali-  they  should  be  honored!  W'hy  treated 
ty — what  account  shall  be  given  of  her 'as  worthless,  when  God  declares  them 
making  no  way  towards  the  shores  of  efficacious!    It  is  true  that  conversion 


the  saint's  home,  but  remaining  to  be 
broken  up  piecemeal  by  the  sweepings 
of  the  judgment  1  Simply,  that  God 
told  man  of  a  compass,  and  of  a  chart, 
and  of  a  wind  and  a  pilot.  But  man 
determined  to  remain  anchored,  until 
God  should  come  and  tear  the  ship 
from  her  moorings.  God  has  appoint- 
ed means.  If  we  will  use  them  dili- 
gently, and  prayerfully,  we  may  look 
for  a  blessing.  But  if  we  despise  and 
neglect  them,  we  must  not  look  for  a 
miracle. 

And  if  a  man  be  resolved  to  give 
harborage  to  the  idea  that  means  may 
be  dispensed  with,  and  that  then  mi- 


is  a  miracle.  But  God's  common  me- 
thod of  working  this  miracle  is  through 
the  machinery  of  means.  It  is  true  that 
none  but  the  elect  can  be  saved.  But 
the  only  way  to  ascertain  election  is  to 
be  laborious  in  striving.  I  read  St. 
Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Romans ;  and  I 
find  the  apostle  saying,  "so  then  it  is 
not  of  him  that  willeth,  nor  of  him  that 
runneth,  but  of  God  that  showeth  mer- 
cy." Rom.  9  :  16.  Wliat  then!  Must 
I,  on  this  account,  run  not,  but  sit  still, 
expecting  the  approaches  of  mercy! 
Away  with  the  thought.  Means  are 
God's  high  road  to  miracles.  I  turn 
from  the  apostle  writing  to  the  Ro- 


102 


ST.    PAUL    A    TENT-MAKER. 


mans  to  the  apostle  toiling  at  Corinth. 
And  when  I  look  on  the  labors  of  the 
tent-maker,  and  infer  from  them  that 
miracles  must  not  be  expected  where 
means  have  been  instituted,  and  that, 
consequently,  whensoever  God  has  ap- 
pointed means,  miracle  is  to  be  looked 
for  only  in  their  use  ;  oh,  in  place  of 
loitering  because  I  have  read  of  elec- 
tion, I  would  gird  up  the  loins  as  hav- 
ing gazed  on  the  tent-making ;  and  in 
place  of  running  not,  because  it  is  "  of 
God  that  showeth  mercy,"  run  might 
and  main,  because  it  is  to  those  who 
are  running  that  he  shows  it. 

When  God  decrees  an  end,  he  de- 
crees also  the  means.  If  then  he  have 
elected  me  to  obtain  salvation  in  the 
next  life,  he  has  elected  me  to  the  prac- 
tice of  holiness  in  this  life.  Would  I 
ascertain  my  election  to  the  blessed- 
ness of  eternity  1  it  must  be  by  prac- 
tically demonstrating  my  election  to 
newness  of  life.  It  is  not  by  the  rap- 
ture of  feeling,  and  by  the  luxuriance 
of  thought,  and  by  the  warmth  of  those 
desires  which  descriptions  of  heaven 
may  stir  up  within  me,  that  I  can  prove 
myself  predestined  to  a  glorious  in- 
heritance. If  I  would  find  out  what  is 
hidden,  I  must  follow  what  is  revealed. 
The  way  to  heaven  is  disclosed  ;  am  I 
walking  in  that  way  %  It  would  be  poor 
proof  that  I  were  on  my  voyage  to  In- 
dia, that,  with  glowing  eloquence  and 
thrilling  poetry,  I  could  discourse  on 
the  palm-groves  and  the  spice-isles  of 
the  East.  Am  I  on  the  waters'?  Is  the 
sail  hoisted  to  the  wind  ;  and  does  the 
land  of  my  birth  look  blue  and  faint  in 
the  distance  1  The  doctrine  of  election 
may  have  done  harm  to  many — but 
only  because  they  have  fancied  them- 
selves elected  to  the  end,  and  have  foi*- 
gotten  that  those  whom  Scripture  calls 
elected  are  elected  to  the  means.  The 
Bible  never  speaks  of  men  as  elected 
to  be  saved  from  the  shipwreck  ;  but 
only  as  elected  to  tighten  the  ropes, 
and  hoist  the  sails,  and  stand  to  the 
rudder.  Let  a  man  search  faithfully ; 
let  him  see  that  when  Scripture  de- 
scribes christians  as  elected,  it  is,  as 
elected  to  faith,  as  elected  to  sanctili- 
cation,  as  elected  to  obedience  ;  and 
the  doctrine  of  election  will  be  nothing 
but  a  stimulus  to  effort.  It  cannot  act 
as  a  soporific.  It  cannot  lull  me  into 
security,  It  cannot  engender  licentious- 


Iness.  It  will  throw  ardor  into  the  spir- 
it, and  fire  into  the  eye,  and  vigor  into 
the  limb.  1  shall  cut  away  the  boat,  and 
let  drive  all  human  devices,  and  gird 
myself,  amid  the  fierceness  of  the  tem- 
pest, to  steer  the  shattered  vessel  into 
port. 

Now  having  thus  examined  the  rea- 
sons why  St.  Paul  was  left  dependent 
upon  labor  for  subsistence,  we  hasten 
at  once  to  wind  up  our  subject.  We 
have  had  under  review  two  great  and 
interesting  truths.  We  have  seen  that 
labor  is  God's  ordinance.  Be  it  yours, 
therefore,  to  strive  earnestly  that  your 
worldly  callings  may  be  sanctified,  so 
that  trade  may  be  the  helpmate  of  reli- 
gion, instead  of  its  foe  and  assassin. 
We  have  seen,  also,  that,  when  God  has 
instituted  means,  we  can  have  no  right 
to  be  looking  for  miracles.  Will  ye 
then  sit  still,  expecting  God  to  compel 
you  to  move  1  Will  ye  expose  your- 
selves wantonly  to  temptation,  expect- 
ing God  to  make  you  impregnable! 
Will  ye  take  the  viper  to  your  bo- 
soms, expecting  God  to  charm  away 
the  sting"?  Will  ye  tamper  with  the 
poison  cup,  expecting  God  to  neutral- 
ize the  hemlock  1  Then  Avhy  did  not 
St.  Paul,  in  place  of  working  the  can- 
vass into  a  tent,  expect  God  to  convert 
it  into  food  1  We  do  not  idolize  means. 
We  do  not  substitute  the  means  of 
grace  for  grace  itself.  But  this  we  say 
— and  we  beseech  you  to  carry  with 
you  the  truth  to  your  homes — when 
God  has  made  a  channel,  he  may  be 
expected  to  send  through  that  channel 
the  flowings  of  his  mercy.  Oh  !  that 
ye  were  anxious  ;  that  ye  would  take 
your  right  place  in  creation,  and  feel 
yourselves  immortal!  Be  men,  and  ye 
make  a  vast  advance  towards  being 
Christians.  Many  of  you  have  long  re- 
fused to  labor  to  be  saved.  The  imple- 
ments are  in  your  hands,  but  you  will 
not  work  at  the  tent-making.  Ye  will 
not  pray  ;  ye  will  not  shun  temptation  ; 
ye  will  not  renounce  known  sin  ;  ye 
will  not  fight  against  evil  habits.  Are 
ye  stronger  than  God  1  Can  ye  con- 
tend with  the  Eternal  One  ?  Have  ye 
the  nerve  which  shall  not  tremble,  and 
the  flesh  which  shall  not  quiver,  and 
the  soul  Avhich  shall  not  quail,  when 
the  sheet  of  fire  is  round  the  globe, 
and  thousand  times  ten  thousand  an- 
gels line  the  sky,  and  call  to  judgment "? 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


103 


It  we  had  a  spell  by  which  to  bind  the  fear  and  tremblinrr,  work  out  salvation, 
ministers  of  vengeance,  we  might  go  j  There  shall  yet  burst  on  this  creation  a 
on  in  idleness.  If  we  had  a  charm  by  j  day  of  fire  and  of  storm,  and  of  blood 
which  to  take  what  is  scorching  from  | — oh!  conform  yourselves  to  the  sim- 
the  flame,  and  what  is  gnawing  from  !  pie  prescriptions  of  the  Bible ;  seek 
the  worm,  we  might  continue  the  care-  { the  aids  of  God's  Spirit  by  prayer,  and 
less.  But  if  we  can  feel;  if  we  are  not  |  ye  shall  be  led  to  lay  hold  on  Christ 
pain-proof;  if  we  are  not  wrath-proof;'  Jesus  by  faith. 
let  us   arise,  and  be   doing,  and,  with  i 


SERMON   X. 


THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  A  STATE  OF  EXPECTATION. 


"  It  is  good  that  a  ma'.i  should  botli  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord."' 

Lamentations,  3  :  26. 


You  will  find  it  said  in  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes,  "Because  to  every  pur- 
pose there  is  time  and  judgment,  there- 
fore the  misery  of  man  is  great  upon 
him."  Eccl.  8:6.  It  seems  to  us  im- 
plied in  these  words,  that  our  incapa- 
city of  looking  into  the  future  has  much 
to  do  with  the  production  of  disquie- 
tude and  unhappiness.  And  there  is  no 
question,  that  the  darkness  in  which 
we  are  compelled  to  proceed,  and  the 
uncertainty  v.hich  hangs  round  the  is- 
sues of  our  best-arranged  schemes,  con- 
tribute much  to  the  troubles  and  per- 
plexities of  life.  Under  the  present  dis- 
pensation we  must  calculate  on  proba- 
bilities ;  and  our  calculations,  when 
made  with  the  best  care  and  fore- 
thought, are  often  proved  faulty  by  the 
result.  And  if  we  could  substitute  cer- 
tainty for  probability,  and  thus  define, 
with  a  thorough  accuracy,  the  work- 
ings of  any  proposed  plan,  it  is  evident 
that  we  might  be  saved  a  vast  amount 
both  of  anxiety  and  of  disappointment. 
Much  of  our  anxiety  is  now  derived 
from  the  doubtfulness  of  the  success  of 
schemes,  and  from  the  likelihood  of  ob- 
struction and  mischance  :  much  of  our 


disappointment  from  the  overthrow  and 
failure  of  long-cherished  purposes. 
And,  of  course,  if  we  possessed  the 
same  mastery  of  the  future  as  of  the 
past,  we  should  enter  upon  nothing 
which  was  sure  to  turn  out  ill ;  but, 
regulating  ourselves  in  every  undertak- 
ing by  fore-known  results,  avoid  much 
of  previous  debate  and  of  after  regret. 
Yet  when  vre  have  admitted,  that  want 
of  acquaintance  with  the  future  gives 
rise  to  much  both  of  anxiety  and  of  dis- 
appointment, we  are  prepared  to  argue, 
that  the  possession  of  this  acquaint- 
ance would  be  incalculably  more  detri- 
mental. It  is  quite  true  that  there  are 
forms  and  portions  of  trouble  vvhich 
might  be  warded  off  or  escaped,  if  we 
could  behold  what  is  coming,  and  take 
measures  accordingly.  But  it  is  to  the 
full  as  true,  that  the  main  of  what  shall 
befall  us  is  matter  of  irrevocable  ap- 
pointment, to  be  averted  by  no  pru- 
dence, and  dispersed  by  no  bravery. 
And  if  we  could  know  beforehand 
whatever  is  to  happen,  we  should,  in  all 
probabilitj-,  be  immanned  nnd  enervat- 
ed ;  so  that  an  arrest  would  be  put  on 
the  businesses  of  life  by  previous  ac- 


104 


THE    ADVA^■TAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


quaiutance  with  their  several  successes. 
The  parent,  who  is  pouring  his  at- 
tention on  the  education  of  a  child,  or 
laboring  to  procure  for  him  advance- 
ment and  independence,  would  be  un- 
able to  go  forward  with  his  efi'orts,  if 
certified  that  he  must  follow  that  child 
to  the  grave  so  soon  as  he  had  fitted, 
him  for  society  and  occupation.  And 
even  if  the  map  were  a  bright  one,  so 
that  we  looked  on  sunny  things  as  fix- 
ed for  our  portion,  familiarity  with  the 
prospect  would  deteriorate  it  to  our 
imagination  ;  and  blessings  would  seem 
to  us  of  less  and  less  worth,  as  they 
came  on  us  more  and  more  as  matters 
of  course.  In  real  truth,  it  is  our  igno- 
rance of  what  shall  happen  which  stimu- 
lates exertion  :  we  are  so  constituted 
that  to  deprive  us  of  hope  would  be  to 
make  us  inactive  and  wretched.  And, 
therefore,  do  we  hold  that  one  great 
proof  of  God's  loving-kindness  towards 
us,  may  be  fetched  from  that  impene- 
trable concealment  in  which  he  wraps 
up  to-morrow.  We  long  indeed  to  bring 
to-morrow  into  to-day,  and  strain  the 
eye  in  the  fruitless  endeavor  to  scan 
its  occurrences.  But  it  is,  in  a  great 
deofree,  mv  ignorance  of  to-morrow 
which  makesme  vigilant,  and  energet- 
ic, and  pains-taking,  to-day.  And  if  I 
could  see  to-day  that  a  great  calamity 
or  a  great  success  would  undoubtedly 
befall  me  to-morrow,  the  likelihood  is 
that  I  should  be  so  overcome,  either 
by  sorrow  or  by  delight,  as  to  be  unfit- 
ted for  those  duties  with  which  the 
present  hour  is  charged. 

Now  it  were  easy  to  employ  our- 
selves in  examining,  more  in  detail,  the 
bearings  on  our  temporal  well-being  of 
that  hiding  of  the  future  to  which  we 
have  adverted.  Neither  would  such 
examination  be  out  of  place  in  a  dis- 
course on  the  words  of  our  text.  The 
prophet  refers  chiefly  to  temporal  de- 
liverance, when  mentioning  "the  sal- 
vation of  the  Lord."  Judah  had  gone 
into  captivity  :  and  Jerusalem,  hereto- 
fore a  queen  amongst  the  cities,  sat 
widowed  and  desolate.  Yet  Jeremiah 
was  persuaded  that  the  Lord  would 
"  not  cast  off  for  ever  ;"  Lam.  3:31; 
and  he,  therefore,  encouraged  the  rem- 
nant of  his  countrymen  to  expect  a  bet- 
ter and  brighter  season.  He  does  not, 
indeed,  predict  immediate  restoration. 
But  then  he  asserts  that  delayed  mer- 


cy would  be  more  advantageous  than 
instant,  and  that  profit  might  be  deri- 
ved from  expectation  as  well  as  from 
possession.  If  we  paraphrase  his  words, 
we  may  consider  him  saying  to  the 
stricken  and  disconsolate  Jews,  you 
w^ish  an  immediate  interlerence  of  God 
on  behalf  of  your  city  and  nation.  You 
desire,  that,  without  a  moment's  delay, 
the  captive  tribes  should  march  back 
from  Babylon,  and  Jerusalem  rise  again 
in  her  beauty  and  her  strength.  But  if 
this  wish  were  complied  with,  it  would 
be  at  the  expense  of  much  of  the  bene- 
fit derivable  from  aflliction  :  for  ''  it  is 
good  that  a  man  should  both  hope  and 
quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord." 

Thus  the  original  design  of  the 
passage  would  warrant  our  taking  a 
large  sweep  in  its  explanation,  and 
leading  you  over  that  range  of  inquiry 
which  is  opened  by  our  introductory 
remarks.  We  might  dilate  on  the  ad- 
vantageousness  of  the  existing  arrange- 
ment, and  its  wondrous  adaptation  to 
our  moral  constitution.  We  might 
show  you,  by  references  to  the  en- 
gagements and  intercourses  of  life, 
that  it  is  for  our  profit  that  we  be  un- 
certain as  to  issues,  and,  therefore,  re- 
quired both  to  hope  and  to  wait.  Wc 
doubt  whether  you  could  imagine  a 
finer  discipline  for  the  human  mind, 
than  results  from  the  fixed  impossibili- 
ty of  our  grasping  two  moments  at 
once.  The  chief  opponent  to  that  feel- 
ing of  independence  which  man  natu- 
rally cherishes,  but  always  to  his  own 
hurt,  is  his  utter  ignorance  of  the 
events  of  the  next  minute.  For  who 
can  boast,  or  who  can  feel  himself,  in- 
dependent, whilst  unable  to  insure  an- 
other beat  of  the  pulse,  or  to  decide 
whether,  before  he  can  count  two,  he 
shall  be  spoiled  of  life  or  reduced  to 
beggary  1  It  is  only  in  proportion  as 
men  close  their  eyes  to  their  absolute 
want  of  mastership  over  the  future,  that 
they  encourage  themselves  in  the  de- 
lusion of  independence.  If  they  owned, 
and  felt  themselves,  the  possessors  of 
a  single  moment,  with  no  more  power 
to  secure  the  following  than  if  the  pro- 
posed period  were  a  thousand  centu- 
ries, we  might  set  it  down  as  an  un- 
avoidable consequence,  that  they  would 
shun  the  presumption  of  so  acting  for 
themselves  as  though  God  were  exclu- 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


105 


ed  from  superintending  their  affairs. 
■  ml  if   there  were  introduced  an  op- 
posite arrangement  ;  if  men  were    no 
longer  placed  under  a  system  compel- 
ling  them  to  hope   and  to  wait ;  you 
may   all  see  that  the   acquired  power 
over  the  future  would  produce,  in  ma- 
ny quarters,  an  infidel  contempt,  or  de- 
nial, of  Providence  :  so  that,  by  admit- 
ting men  to  a  closer  inspection  of  his 
workings,  God  would  throw  them  fur- 
ther off  from  acquaintance  with  him- 
self  and  reverence    of   his    majesties. 
Thus  the  goodness  of  the  existing  ar- 
rangement is  matter  of  easy  demonstra- 
tion, when  that  arrangement  is  consi- 
dered as  including  the  affairs  of  every- 
day life.    If  you  look  at  the  consum- 
mation as  ordinarily  far  removed  from 
the  formation  of  a  purpose,  there  is, 
we  again  say,  a  fine  moral  discipline 
in  the  intervening  suspense.  That  men 
may  withstand,  or  overlook,  the  disci- 
pline, and  so  miss  its  advantages,  tells 
nothing   against    either    its    existence, 
or  its  excellence.    And  the  necessity 
which  is  laid  on  the  husbandman,  that, 
after  sowing  the  seed,  he  wait  long  for 
the  harvest-time,  in  hope,  but  not  cer- 
tainty;  and    upon    the    merchantman, 
that,   after  dispatching   his    ships,    he 
wait   long    for   the    products   of  com- 
merce,  hoping,   but  far  enough    from 
sure,  that  the   voyage  and   the  traffic 
will  be  prosperous  ;  this  necessity,  we 
say,  for  hoping  and  waiting  reads  the 
best  of  all  lessons  as  to  actual  depend- 
ence on  an   invisible  being;  and  thus 
verifies  our  position,  that,  whatever  the 
desired  advantao;e,  "  it  is  g-ood  that  a 
man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait 
for"  its  possession.  Ay,  and  we  are  well 
convinced  that  there  cannot  be  found  a 
nobler  argument  for  the  existence  of 
a  stanch  moral   government  over   the 
creatures  of  our  race,  than  results  from 
this  imposed  necessity  that  there  elapse 
a  period,  and  that  too  a  period  full  of 
imcertainties,  between  the  forming  and 
completing  a  design.  Amid  all  the  mu- 
tiny  and    uproar   of   our  present   torn 
and   disorganized  condition,  there  is  a 
voice,   in   our  utter  powerlessness    to 
make  sure  of  the  future,  which  conti- 
nually recalls  man  from  his  rebellion 
and  scepticism;  and  which,  proclaim- 
ing, in  accents  not  to  be  overborne  by 
the  fiercest  tempest  of  passion,  that  he 
holds  every  thing  at  the  will  of  another, 


shall  demand  irresistibly  his  condem- 
nation at  any  oncoming  trial,  if  he  car- 
ry it  with  a  high  and  independent  hand 
against  the  being  thus  proved  the  un- 
controlled lord  of  his  destinies. 

But  we  feel  it  necessary  to  bring  our 
inquiry  within  narrower  limits,  and  to 
take  the  expression,  "  the  salvation  of 
the  Lord,"  in  that  more  restrained 
sense  which  it  bears  ordinarily  in  Scrip- 
ture. We  shall  employ,  therefore,  the 
remainder  of  our  time  in  endeavoring 
to  prove  to  you,  by  the  simplest  rea- 
soning, that  it  is  for  our  advantage  as 
christians  that  salvation,  in  place  of 
being  a  thing  of  certainty  and  present 
possession,  must  be  hoped  and  quietly 
waited  for  by  believers. 

Now  whilst   it  is  the  business  of  a 
christian  minister  to  guard  you  against 
presumption,  and  an  uncalculating  con- 
fidence that  you   are   safe  for  eternity, 
it  is  also  his  duty  to  rouse  you  to  a 
sense  of  your  privileges,   and  to  press 
on  you  the  importance  of  ascertaining 
your  title  to  immortality.    We  think  it 
not  necessarily  a  proof  of  christian  hu- 
mility, that    you  should  be  always  in 
doubt   of  your   spiritual   state,  and  so 
live  uncertain  whether,  in  the  event  of 
death,  you  would  pass  into  glory.    We 
are   bound    to    declare    that   Scripture 
makes  the  marks  of  true  religion  clear 
and  decisive  ;  and  that,  if  we  will  but 
apply,  faithfully  and  fearlessly,  the  se- 
veral   criteria    furnished   by  its  state- 
ments,  it    cannot    remain    a   problem, 
which  the  last  judgment  only  can  solve, 
whether  it  be  the   broad  way,   or  the 
narrow,  in  which  we  now  walk.    But, 
nevertheless,    the     best    assurance    to 
which  a  christian  can  attain  must  leave 
salvation  a  thing  chiefly  of  hope.    We 
!  find  it  expressly  declared  by  St.  Paul 
I  to    the    Eomans,    "  we    are    saved   by 
hope."  Rom.  8  :  24.    And  they  who  are 
j  most  persuaded,  and  that  too  by  scrip- 
!  tural  warrant,  that  they  are  in  a  state 
j  of  salvation,  can  never  declare  them- 
j  selves,  except  in  the  most  limited  sense, 
I  in  its  fruition  or  enjoyiTient;  but  must 
'  always  live  mainly  upon  hope,  though 
with  occasional    foretastes  of  coming 
;  delights.     They  can  reach  the  conclu 
sion — and  a  comforting  and  noble  con 
elusion  it   is — that    they    are   justified 
beings,  as  having  been  enabled  to  act 
faith  on  a  Mediator.    But  whilst  justifi- 
cation insures  them  salvation,  it  puts 
14» 


106 


THE    ADVANTAGES   OF    A   STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


them  not  into  iis  present  possession. 
It  is  thus  again  that  St.  Paul  distin- 
guishes between  justilication  and  sal- 
vation, saying  of  Christ,  "  being  now 
justified  by  his  blood,  we  shall  be  saved 
from  wrath  through  him."  Rom.  5  :  9. 
So  that  the  knowing  ourselves  justified 
is  the  highest  thing  attainable  on  earth  ; 
salvation  itself,  thougli  certain  to  be 
reached,  remaining  an  object  for  which 
we  must  hope,  and  for  which  we  must 
wait. 

Now  it  is  the  goodness  of  this  ar- 
rangement which  is  asserted  in  our 
text.  We  can  readily  suppose  an  op- 
posite arrangement.  AVc  can  imagine 
that,  as  soon  as  a  man  were  justified, 
he  might  be  translated  to  blessedness, 
and  that  thus  the  ofaininsf  the  title,  and 
the  entering  on  possession,  might  be 
always  contemporary.  Since  the  being 
justified  is  the  being  accepted  in  God's 
sight,  and  counted  perfectly  righteous, 
there  would  seem  no  insurmountable 
reason  wdiy  the  justified  man  should  be 
left,  a  single  moment,  a  wanderer  in 
the  desert ;  or  why  the  instant  of  the 
exertion  of  saving  faith,  inasmuch  as 
that  exertion  makes  sure  the  salvation, 
should  not  also  be  the  instant  of  en- 
trance into  glory.  To  question  the  pos- 
sibility of  such  an  arrangement,  would 
be  to  question  the  possibility  of  an  out- 
putting  of  faith  at  the  last  moment  of 
life;  for,  unless  what  is  called  death- 
bed repentance  be  distinctly  an  impos- 
sible thing,  the  case  is  clearljr  sup- 
posable  of  the  justifying  act  being  im- 
mediately followed  by  admission  into 
heaven. 

But  the  possibility  of  the  arrange- 
ment, and  its  goodness,  are  quite  dif- 
ferent questions  ;  and  whilst  we  see 
that  it  might  have  been  ordered,  that 
the  justified  man  should  at  once  be 
translated,  we  can  still  believe  it  good 
that  he  ''both  hope  and  quietly  wait 
for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord."  Our 
text  speaks  chiefly  of  the  goodness  to 
the  individual  himself;  but  it  Avill  be 
lawful  first  to  consider  the  arrangement 
as  fraught  with  advantage  to  human 
society. 

We  must  all  perceive,  that,  if  true 
believers  were  withdrawn  from  earth 
at  the  instant  of  their  becoming  such, 
the  influences  of  piety,  Avhich  now 
make  themselves  felt  through  the  mass 
of  a  population,  would   be  altogether 


destroyed,  and  the  world  be  deprived  ' 
of  that  salt  which  alone  preserves  it  ' 
from  total  decomposition.  We  believe 
that  when  Christ  declared  of  his  fol- 
lowers, "  ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth," 
Matthew,  5  :  13,  he  delivered  a  saying 
which  described,  with  singular  fidelity, 
the  power  of  righteousness  to  stay  and 
correct  the  disorganizations  of  man- 
kind. As  applied  to  the  apostles  the 
definition  was  especially  accurate. 
There  lay  before  them  a  world  distin- 
guished by  nothing  so  much  as  by 
corruption  of  doctrine  and  manners. 
Though  philosophy  was  at  its  height ; 
though  reason  had  achieved  her  proud- 
est triumphs  ;  though  arts  were  in  their 
maturity;  though  eloquence  was  then 
most  finished,  and  poetry  most  harmo- 
nious ;  there  reigned  over  the  whole 
face  of  the  globe  a  tremendous  igno- 
rance of  God  :  and  if  humanity  were 
not  actually  an  unsound  and  putrid 
mass,  it  had  in  it  every  element  of  de- 
cay, so  that,  if  longer  abandoned  to 
itself,  it  must  have  fallen  into  incurable 
disease,  and  become  covered  Avith  the 
livid  spots  of  total  dissolution.  And 
when,  by  divine  commission,  the  dis- 
ciples penetrated  the  recesses  of  this 
mass,  carrying  with  them  principles, 
and  truths,  exactly  calculated  to  stay 
the  moral  ruin  which  was  spreading 
with  fearful  rapidity — when  they  went 
forth,  the  bearers  of  celestial  commu- 
nications which  taught  the  soul  to  feel 
herself  immortal,  and,  therefore,  inde- 
structible ;  Avliich  lifted  even  the  body 
out  of  the  grasp  of  decay,  teaching 
that  bone,  and  sinew,  and  llesh  should 
be  made  at  last  gloriously  incorruptible 
— when,  we  say,  the  disciples  thus  ap- 
plied to  the  world  a  remedy,  perfect  in 
every  respect,  against  tjiose  tendencies 
to  corruption  which  threatened  to  turn 
our  globe  into  the  lazar-house  of  crea- 
tion ;  v/ere  they  not  to  be  regarded  as 
the  purifiers  and  preservers  of  men, 
and  could  anjr  title  be  more  just  than 
one  which  defined  them,  in  their  striv- 
ings to  overspread  a  diseased  world 
with  healthfuhiess,  as  literally  "  the 
salt  of  the  earth  1" 

But  it  holds  good  in  every  age  that 
true  believers  are  "  the  salt  of  the 
earth."  Whilst  the  contempt  and  ha- 
tred of  the  wicked  follow  incessantly 
the  professors  of  godliness,  and  the 
enemies  of  Christ,  if  ability  were  com- 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


107 


mensurate  with  malice,  would  sweep 
from  the  globe  all  knowledge  of  the 
Gospel,  we  can  venture  to  assert  that 
the  unrighteous  owe  the  righteous  a 
debt  of  obligation  not  to  be  reckoned 
up ;  and  that  it  is  mainly  because  the 
required  ten  are  still  found  in  the  cities 
of  the  plain  that  the  lire-showers  are 
suspended,  and  time  given  for  the 
warding  off  by  repentance  the  doom. 
And  over  and  above  this  conservative 
virtue  of  godliness,  it  is  undeniable 
that  the  presence  of  a  pious  man  in  a 
neighborhood  will  tell  greatly  on  its 
character  ;  and  that,  in  variety  of  in- 
stances, his  withdrawment  would  be 
followed  by  wilder  oulbreakings  of  pro- 
fligacy. It  must  have  fallen,  we  think, 
within  the  power  of  many  of  you  to 
observe,  how  a  dissolute  parish  has 
undergone  a  species  of  moral  renova- 
tion, through  the  introduction  within 
its  circles  of  a  God-fearing  individual. 
He  may  be  despised  ;  he  maybe  scorn- 
ed ;  he  may  be  railed  at.  The  old  may 
call  him  methodist,  and  the  young- 
make  him  their  laughing-stock.  But, 
nevertheless,  if  he  live  consistently,  if 
he  give  the  adversary  no  occasion  to 
blaspheme,  he  will  often,  by  his  very 
example,  go  a  long  way  towards  stop- 
ping the  contagion  of  vice  :  he  will  act, 
that  is,  as  the  salt :  and  if  he  succeed 
not — for  this  is  beyond  the  power  of 
the  salt — in  restoring  to  a  wholesome 
texture  what  is  fatally  tainted,  he  will 
be  instrumental  to  the  preserving  much 
which  would  otherwise  have  soon 
yielded  to  the  destructive  malaria.  It 
is  not  merely  that  his  temporal  circum- 
stances may  have  given  him  ascend- 
ancy over  his  fellows.  There  is  in  the 
human  mind — we  dare  not  say,  a  bias 
towards  virtue,  but — an  abiding,  and 
scarcely  to  be  overborne  conscious- 
ness, that  such  ought  to  be  the  bias, 
and  that,  whensoever  the  practical  lean- 
ing is  to  vice,  there  is  irresistible  evi- 
dence of  moral  derangement.  What- 
ever the  extent  of  human  degeneracy, 
you  will  not  find  that  right  and  wrong 
have  so  changed  places,  that,  in  being 
the  slaves  of  vice,  men  reckon  them- 
selves the  subjects  of  virtue.  There 
is  a  gnawing  restlessness  in  those  who 
have  most  abandoned  themselves  to  the 
power  of  evil  ;  and  much  of  the  fierce- 
ness of  their  prolligacy  is  ascribable 
to  a  felt  necessity  of  keeping  down, 


and  stifling,  reproachful  convictions. 
And  hence  it  conaes  to  pass  that  vice 
will  ordinarily  feel  rebuked  and  over- 
awed by  virtue,  and  that  the  men,  whom 
you  would  think  dead  to  all  noble  prin- 
ciple, will  be  disturbed  by  the  presence 
of  an  upright  and  God-fearing  charac- 
ter. The  voice  of  righteousness  will 
find  something  of  an  echo  amid  the 
disorder  and  confusion  of  the  worst 
moral  chaos  ;  and  the  strings  of  con- 
science are  scarcely  ever  so  dislocated 
and  torn  as  not  to  yield  even  a  whis- 
per, when  swept  by  the  hand  of  a  high- 
virtued  monitor.  So  that  the  godljr 
in  a  neighborhood  wield  an  influence 
which  is  purely  that  of  godliness  ;  and 
when  denied  opportunities  of  direct 
interference,  check  by  example,  and 
reprove  by  conduct.  You  could  not 
then  measure  to  us  the  consequences 
of  the  withdrawment  of  the  salt  from 
the  mass  of  a  population;  nor  calcu- 
late the  rapidity  Avith  which,  on  the 
complete  removal  of  God-fearing  men, 
an  overwhelming  corruption  would 
pervade  all  society.  But  this  is  exactl}"- 
what  must  occur,  if  a  system,  opposite 
to  the  present,  were  introduced,  so  that 
salvation  were  not  a  thing  to  be  hoped 
and  waited  for.  If  as  soon  as  a  man 
were  justified,  through  being  enabled 
to  act  faith  upon  Christ,  he  were  trans- 
lated to  the  repose  and  blessedness  of 
heaven,  he  could  exert  nothing  of  that 
influence,  and  work  nothing  of  that 
benefit,  which  we  have  now  traced  and 
exhibited.  And,  therefore,  in  propor- 
tion as  the  influence  is  important  and 
the  ^benefit  considerable,  we  must  be 
warranted  in  maintaining  it  "good, 
that  a  man  should  both  hope  and  qui- 
etly wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord." 
It  is,  however,  the  goodness  of  the 
arrangement  to  the  individual  himself 
which  seems  chiefly  contemplated  by 
the  prophet,  and  upon  this,  therefore, 
we  shall  employ  the  remainder  of  our 
discourse.  Now,  under  this  point  of 
view,  our  text  is  simpler  at  first  sight 
than  v.'hen  rigidly  examined.  We  can 
see,  at  once,  that  there  is  a  spiritual 
discipline  in  the  hoping  and  waiting, 
which  can  scarcely  fail  to  improve 
greatly  the  character  of  the  christian. 
But,  nevertheless,  would  it  not,  on  the 
whole,  be  vastly  for  his  personal  ad- 
vantage that  he  should  leave  speedily 
this  theatre  of  conflict  and  trouble,  and 


108 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A   STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


be  admitted,  without  a  wearisome  de- 
lay, into  the  mansion  which  Christ  has 
prepared  for  his  residence  1  We  have 
ah'eady  shown  you  that  there  can  exist 
no  actual  necessity,  that  he  who  is  jus- 
tified should  not  be  immediately  glo- 
rified. We  are  bound  to  believe  that  a 
justified  man — and,  beyond  all  question, 
a  man  is  justified  in  this  life — is  con- 
sirrned  to  blessedness  by  an  irreversible 
appointment,  and  that,  consequently, 
whensoever  he  dies,  it  is  certain  that 
he  enters  into  heaven.  The  moment 
he  is  justified,  heaven  becomes  un- 
doubtedly his  portion  ;  and  if,  therefore, 
he  die  at  the  instant  of  justification, 
he  will  as  surely  obtain  immortality,  as 
if  many  years  elapse  between  the  out- 
putting  of  faith  and  the  departure  from 
life.  And  how  then  can  it  be  good 
for  him,  certified  as  he  thus  is  of  hea- 
ven, to  continue  the  war  with  sin  and 
corruption,  and  to  cut  painfully  his 
■way  through  hosts  of  opponents,  in 
place  of  passing  instantaneously  into 
the  joy  of  his  Lord  1  If  you  could  prove 
it  in  every  case  indispensable  that  a 
justified  man  should  undergo  discipline 
in  order  to  his  acquiring  meetness  for 
heaven,  there  would  be  no  room  for 
debate  as  to  the  goodness  asserted  in 
our  text.  But  you  cannot  prove  the 
discipline  indispensable,  because  we 
know  the  possibility  that  a  man  may 
be  justified  at  the  last  moment  of  life  ; 
so  that,  no  time  having  been  allowed 
for  preparation,  he  may  spring  from  a 
death-bed  to  a  throne.  And  thus  the 
question  comes  back  upon  us  in  its  un- 
broken force,  wherein  lies  the  good- 
ness of  hoping  and  waiting  for  salva- 
tion 1 

We  take  the  case,  for  example,  of  a 
man  who,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  is  en- 
abled, through  the  operations  of  grace, 
to  look  in  faith  to  the  Mediator.  By 
this  looking  in  faith  the  man  is  justi- 
fied:  a  justified  man  cannot  perish: 
and  if,  therefore,  the  individual  died  at 
thirty,  he  would  "  sleep  in  .Jesus."  But, 
after  being  justified,  the  man  is  left 
thirty  years  upon  earth — years  of  care, 
and  toil,  and  striving  with  sin — and  du- 
ring these  years  he  hopes  and  waits  for 
salvation.  At  length  he  obtains  salva- 
tion ;  and  tluis,  at  the  close  of  thirty 
years,  takes  possession  of  an  inherit- 
ance to  which  his  title  was  clear  at  the 
beginning.    Now  wherein  can  lie  the 


advantageousness  of  this  arrangement! 
Thirty  years,  which  might  have  been 
spent  in  the  enjoying,  are  spent  in  the 
hoping  and  waiting  for  salvation  :  and 
unless  the  reality  shall  fall  short  of  the 
expectation,  how  can  it  be  true  that  "  it 
is  good  that  a  man  should  botli  hope 
and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord  1" 

We  think  that  no  fair  explanation  can 
be  given  of  our  text,  unless  you  bring 
into  the  account  the  difljerence  in  the 
portions  to  be  assigned  hereafter  to  the 
righteous.  If  you  supposed  uniformity 
in  the  glory  and  happiness  of  the  future, 
we  should  be  at  a  loss  to  discover  the 
goodness  of  the  existing  arrangement. 
If,  after  the  thirty  years  of  warfare  and 
toil,  the  man  receive  precisely  what  he 
might  have  received  at  the  outset  of 
these  years,  is  he  benefited,  nay,  is  he 
not  injured  by  the  delay  1  If  the  delay 
afTord  the  means  of  increasing  the  bless- 
edness, there  is  a  clear  advantageous- 
ness in  that  delay.  But  if  the  blessed- 
ness be  of  a  fixed  quantity,  so  that  at 
the  instant  of  justification  a  man's  por- 
tion is  unalterably  determined,  to  as- 
sert it  good  that  he  should  hope  and 
wait,  is  to  assert  that  thirty  years  of 
expectation  are  more  delightful  than 
thirty  years  of  possession. 

We  bring  before  you,  therefore,  as  a 
comment  on  our  text,  words  such  as 
these  of  the  apostle,  "  our  light  afflic- 
tion, which  is  but  for  a  moment,  work- 
eth  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  2  Cor.  4:17. 
We  consider  that  when  you  set  the 
passages  in  juxta-position,  the  work- 
ing-power, ascribed  by  one  to  affliction, 
gives  satisfactory  account  of  the  good- 
ness attributed  by  the  other  to  the  hop- 
ing and  waiting.  It  is  unquestionably 
good  that  a  man  should  hope  and  wait, 
provided  the  delay  make  it  possible 
that  he  heighten  the  amount  of  finally- 
received  blessedness.  And  if  the  afflic- 
tion, for  example,  which  is  undergone 
during  the  period  of  delay,  work  out 
"a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal 
weight  of  glorj^"  it  follows  necessari- 
ly, that  delay  makes  possible  the  height- 
ening future  glory ;  and  therefore  it 
follows,  just  as  necessarily,  that  it  is 
"  good  that  a  man  should  both  hope 
and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of 
the  Lord." 

We  consider  it  easy,  by  thus  bring- 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION, 


109 


ing  into  the  account  an  undoubted  doc- 
trine of  Scripture — the  doctrine  that 
the  future  allotments  of  the  righteous 
shall  be  accurately  proportioned  to 
their  present  attainments — to  explain 
the  goodness  of  an  arrangement  which 
defers,  through  many  years,  full  deliv- 
erance from  trial.  We  are  here,  in 
every  sense,  on  a  stage  of  probation  ; 
so  that,  having  once  been  brought  back 
from  the  alienations  of  nature,  we  are 
candidates  for  a  prize,  and  wrestlers 
for  a  diadem.  It  is  not  the  mere  en- 
trance into  the  kingdom  for  which  we 
contend :  the  first  instant  in  which  we 
act  faith  on  Christ  as  our  propitiation, 
sees  this  entrance  secured  to  us  as  jus- 
tified beings.  But,  when  justified,  there 
is  opened  before  us  the  widest  field 
for  a  righteous  ambition  5  and  portions 
deepening  in  majesty,  and  heightening 
in  brilliancy,  rise  on  our  vision,  and 
animate  to  unwearied  endeavor.  We 
count  it  one  of  the  glorious  things  of 
Christianity,  that,  in  place  of  repress- 
ing, it  gives  full  scope  to  all  the  ardor 
of  man's  spirit.  It  is  common  to  reck- 
on ambition  amongst  vices  :  and  a  vice 
it  is,  under  its  ordinary  developments, 
with  which  Christianity  wages  intermi- 
nable warfare.  But,  nevertheless,  it  is 
a  stanch,  and  an  adventurous,  and  an 
eagle-eyed  thing  :  and  it  is  impossible 
to  gaze  on  the  man  of  ambition,  daunt- 
ed not  by  disaster,  Avearied  not  by  re- 
pulse, disheartened  not  by  delay,  hold- 
ing on  in  one  unbroken  career  of  effort 
to  reach  a  coveted  object,  without  feel- 
ing that  he  possesses  the  elements  of 
a  noble  constitution  ;  and  that,  however 
to  be  wept  over  for  the  prostitution  of 
his  energies,  for  the  pouring  out  this 
mightiness  of  soul  on  the  corrupt  and 
the  perishable,  he  is  equipped  with  an 
apparatus  of  powers  which  need  no- 
thing but  the  being  rightly  directed,  in 
order  to  the  forming  the  very  finest  of 
characters.  And  we  think  it  nothing 
better  than  a  libel  on  christianitj',  to 
declare  of  the  ambitious  man,  that,  if 
he  become  religious,  he  must,  in  every 
sense,  cease  to  be  ambitious.  If  it  have 
been  his  ambition  to  rise  high  in  the 
dignities  of  a  state,  to  win  to  himself 
the  plaudits  of  a  multitude,  to  twine 
his  forehead  with  the  wreatlis  of  popu- 
lar favor,  to  be  foremost  amongst  the 
heroes  of  war  or  the  professors  of  sci- 
ence— the  introduced  humility  of  a  dis- 


ciple of  Christ,  bringing  him  down  from 
all  the  heights  of  carnal  ascendancy, 
will  be  quite  incompatible  with  this  his 
ambition,  so  that  his  discipleship  may 
be  tested  by  its  suppression  and  de- 
struction. But  all  those  elements  of 
character  which  went  to  the  making  up 
this  ambition — the  irrepressible  desire 
of  some  imagined  good,  the  fixedness 
of  purpose,  the  strenuousness  of  exer- 
tion— these  remain,  and  are  not  to  be 
annihilated ;  requiring  only  the  propo- 
sition of  a  holy  object,  and  they  will 
instantly  be  concentrated  into  a  holy 
ambition.  And  Christianity  propounds 
this  object.  Christianity  deals  with  am- 
bition as  a  passion  to  be  abhorred  and 
denounced,  whilst  urging  the  w^arrior 
to  carve  his  way  to  a  throne,  or  the 
courtier  to  press  on  in  the  path  of  pre- 
ferment. But  it  does  not  cast  out  the 
elements  of  the  passion.  Why  should 
it  ]  They  are  the  noblest  which  enter 
into  the  human  composition,  bearing 
most  vividly  the  impress  of  man's  ori- 
ginal formation.  Christianity  seizes  on 
these  elements.  She  tells  her  subjects 
that  the  rewards  of  eternity,  though  all 
purchased  by  Christ,  and  none  merited 
by  man,  shall  be  rigidly  proportioned 
to  their  works.  She  tells  them  that 
there  are  places  of  dignity,  and  sta- 
tions of  eminence,  and  crowns  with 
more  jewelry,  and  sceptres  with  more 
sway,  in  that  glorious  empire  which 
shall  finally  be  set  up  by  the  Mediator. 
And  she  bids  them  strive  for  the  loftier 
recompense.  She  would  not  have  them 
contented  with  the  lesser  portion, 
though  infinitely  outdoing  human  ima- 
gination as  well  as  human  desert.  And 
if  ambition  be  the  walking  with  the 
stanch  step,  and  the  single  eye,  and 
the  untired  zeal,  and  all  in  pursuit  of 
some  longed-for  superiority,  Christiani- 
ty saith  not  to  the  man  of  ambition,  lay 
aside  thine  ambition  :  Christianity  hath 
need  of  the  stanch  step,  and  the  single 
eye,  and  the  untired  zeal;  and  she, 
therefore,  sets  before  the  man  pyramid 
rising  above  pyramid  in  glory,  throne 
above  throne,  palace  above  palace ; 
and  she  sends  him  forth  into  the  moral 
arena  to  wrestle  for  the  loftiest,  though 
unworthy  of  the  lowest. 

We  shall  not  hesitate  to  argue  that 
in  this,  as  in  other  modes  which  might 
be  indicated,  Christianity  provides  an 
antagonist  to  that  listlessness  which  a 


110 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A   STATE   OF    EXPECTATION. 


feeling  of  security  might  be  supposed 
to  engender.    She  does  not  allow  the 
believer  to  imagine  every  thing  done, 
when  a  title  to  the  kingdom  has  been 
obtained.    She  still  shows  him  that  the 
trials  of  the  last  great  assize  shall  pro- 
ceed most  accurately  on  the  evidence 
of  works.    There  is  no  swerving  in  the 
Bible  from  this  representation.    And  if 
one  man  becomes  a  ruler  over  ten  ci- 
ties, and  another  over  five,  and  another 
over  two — each  receiving  in  exact  pro- 
portion to  his  improvement  of  talents 
— it  is  clear  as  demonstration  can  make 
it,  that  our  strivings  will  have  a  vast 
influence  on  our  recompense,  and  that, 
though  no  iota  of  blessedness  shall  be 
portioned  out  to  the  righteous  which  is 
not  altogether  an  undeserved  gift,  the 
arrangements  of  the  judgment  will  ba- 
lance most  nicely  what  is  bestowed  and 
what  is  performed.  It  shall  not  be  said, 
that,  because  secure  of  admission  into 
heaven,  the  justified  man  has  nothing 
to  excite  him  to  toil.    He  is  to  wrestle 
for  a  place  amongst  spirits  of  chief  re- 
nown :  he  is  to  propose  to  himself  a 
station  close  to   the   throne  :  he  is  to 
fix  his  eye  on  a  reward  sparkling  above 
the  rest  with  the  splendors  of  eternity  ; 
and,  whilst  bowed  to  the  dust  under  a 
sense   of  utter  unworthiness  to   enter 
the  lists  in  so  noble  a  contest,  he  is  to 
become  competitor  for  the  richest  and 
most   radiant   of  prizes.  We   tell  him, 
then,  that  it  is  good  that  he  hope  and 
wait.    It    is  telling   him    there    is    yet 
time,  though  rapidly   diminishing,  for 
securing  high  rank  in  the  kingdom.    It 
is  telling  the  wrestler,  the  glass  is  run- 
ning  out,  and  there   is   a   garland  not 
won.  It  is  telling  the  warrior,  the  night 
shades  are  gathering,  and  the  victory 
is  not  yet  complete.    It  is  telling  the 
traveller,  the  sun  is  declining,  and  there 
are  higher  peaks  to  be  scaled.  Is  it  not 
good  that  I  hope  and  wait,  when  each 
moment  may  add  a  jewel  to  the  crown, 
a  plume  to  the  wing,  a  city  to  the  scep- 
tre 1  Is  it  not  good,  when  each  second 
of  effort  may  lift  me  a  step  higher  in 
the  scale  of  triumph  and  majesty  1  Oh, 
you  look  on  an  individual  whose  faith 
in  Christ  Jesus  has  been  demonstrated 
by  most  scriptural  evidence,  but  unto 
whom  life  is  one  long  series  of  trials, 
and  disasters,  and  pains;  and  you  are  i 
disposed  to  ask,  seeing  there  can  rest  I 
no  doubt  on  the  man's  title  to  salvation,  i 


!  whether  it  Avould  not  be  good  for  him 
i  to  be  freed  at  once  from  the  burden  of 
i  tlie  flesh,  and  thus  spared,  it  may  be, 
yet  many  years  of  anxiety  and  strug- 
gle. You  think  that  he  may  well  take 
as  his  own  the  words  of  the  Psalmist : 
"  Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove,  then 
would  I  flee  away  and  be  at  rest."  But 
we  meet  you  with  the  assertion  of  an 
instituted  connection  between  our  two 
states  of  being.  We  tell  you  that  the 
believer,  as  he  breasts  the  storm,  and 
plunges  into  the  war,  and  grapples  with 
affliction,  is  simply  in  the  condition  of 
one  who  contends  for  a  prize  ;  ay,  and 
that  if  he  were  taken  off  from  the  scene 
of  combat,  just  at  the  instant  of  chal- 
lenging the  adversarj',  and  thus  saved, 
on  your  short-sighted  calculation,  a 
superfluous  outlay  of  toil  and  resist- 
ance, he  would  miss  noble  things,  and 
things  of  loveliness,  in  his  everlasting 
portion,  and  be  brought  down  from 
some  starry  eminence  in  the  sovereign- 
ties of  eternity,  which,  had  he  fought 
through  a  long  life-time  "the  good 
fight  of  faith,"  1  Tim.  6:12,  might  have 
been  awarded  him  in  the  morning  of 
the  first  resurrection. 

Now  we  may  suppose  that  we  carry 
with  us  your  admission  of  the  fairness 
of  the  reasoning,  that,  inasmuch  as  the 
continuance  of  the  justified  upon  earth 
affords  them  opportunity  of  rising  high- 
er in  the  scale  of  future  blessedness, 
there  is  a  goodness  in  the  arrangement 
which  is  vastly  more  than  a  counter- 
poise to  all  the  evils  with  which  it 
seems  charged.  The  justified  man, 
translated  at  the  instant  of  justification, 
could  receive  nothing,  we  may  think, 
but  the  lower  and  less  splendid  por- 
tions. Fle  would  have  had  no  time  for 
glorifying  God  in  the  active  duties  of  a 
christian  profession  ;  and  it  would  seem 
impossible,  therefore,  that  he  should 
win  any  of  those  more  magnificent  al- 
lotments which  shall  be  given  to  the 
foremost  of  Christ's  followers.  But  the 
remaining  in  the  flesh  after  justifica- 
tion, allows  of  that  growth  in  grace, 
that  progress  in  holiness,  that  adorn- 
ing in  all  things  the  doctrine  of  the 
Savior,  to  which  shall  be  awarded,  at 
the  judgment,  chief  places  in  the  king- 
dom of  JMcssiah.  And  if,  on  the  sup- 
position that  no  period  intervene,  there 
can  be  no  augmentations  of  happiness, 
whereas,  on  that  of  hoping  and  wait- 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


Ill 


inc;',  there  may  be  ciaily  advances  in 
holiness,  and  therefore  daily  acces- 
sions to  a  never-ending  bliss  ;  who  will 
deny  the  accuracy  of  the  inference, 
that  "  it  is  good  that  a  man  shonld  both 
hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation 
of  the  Lord]" 

There  would  seem  nothing  wanting 
to  the  completeness  of  this  argument, 
unless  it  be  proof  of  what  has  been  all 
along  assumed,  namely,  that  the  being 
compelled  to  hope  and  to  wait  is  a  good 
moral  discipline  ;  so  that  the  exercises 
prescribed  are  calculated  to  promote 
holiness,  and,  therefore,  to  insure  hap- 
piness. We  have  perhaps  only  shown 
the  advantageousness  of  delay  5  where- 
as the  text  asserts  the  advantageous- 
ness of  certain  acts  of  the  soul.  Yet 
this  discrepancy  between  the  thing 
proved,  and  the  thing  to  be  proved, 
is  too  slight  to  require  a  lengthened 
correction.  It  is  the  delay  which 
makes  salvation  a  thing  of  hope  ;  and 
that  which  I  am  obliged  to  hope  for,  I 
am,  of  course,  obliged  to  wait  for  ;  and 
thus,  whatever  of  beneficial  result  can 
be  ascribed  to  the  delay  may,  with 
equal  fitness,  be  ascribed  to  the  hoping 
and  waiting.  Besides,  hope  and  pa- 
tience— for  it  is  not  the  mere  waiting 
which  is  asserted  to  be  good;  it  is  the 
quietly  waiting  ;  and  this  quiet  waiting 
is  but  another  term  for  patience — hope 
and  patience  are  two  of  the  most  ad- 
mirable of  christian  graces,  and  he  who 
cultivates  them  assiduously  cannot  well 
be  neglectful  of  the  rest.  So  that,  to  say 
of  a  man  that  he  is  exercising  hope  and 
patience,  is  to  say  of  him,  that,  through 
the  assistance  of  God's  Spirit,  he  is 
more  and  more  overcoming  the  rug- 
gedness  and  oppositions  of  nature,  and 
more  and  more  improving  the  soil,  that 
lovely  things,  and  things  of  good  report, 
may  spring  up  and  flourish.  In  ihe  ma- 
terial w.orld,  there  is  a  wonderful  pro- 
vision against  the  destruction  of  the 
soil,  Avhich  has  often  excited  the  ad- 
miration of  philosophers.  The  coat  of 
vegetable  mould  with  which  this  globe 
is  overspread,  and  the  removal  of  which 
Avould  be  the  covering  of  our  fields  with 
sterility,  consists  of  loose  materials, 
easily  washed  away  by  the  rains,  and 
continually  carried  down  by  the  rivers 
to  the  sea.  And,  nevertheless,  though 
there  is  this  rapid  and  ongoing  waste, 
a  waste  which  seems  sufficient,  of  it- 


self, to  destroy  in  a  few  years  the  soil, 
there  is  no  sensible  diminution  in  the 
layers  of  mould  ;  but  the  soil  remains 
the  same,  or  nearly  the  same,  in  quan- 
tity;  and  must  have  done  so,  ever  since 
this  earth  became  the  home  of  animal 
or  vegetable  life.  And  we  know,  there- 
fore, that  there  must  be  causes  at  work 
which  continually  furnish  a  supply  just 
equal  to  the  waste  of  the  soil.  We 
know  that  God,  wonderful  in  his  fore- 
thought and  contrivance,  must  have  ar- 
ranged a  system  of  mechanical  and  che- 
mical agencies,  through  whose  opera- 
tions the  ravages  of  the  flood  and  storm 
should  be  carefully  repaired:  and  we 
find  accordingly,  that,  whilst  the  soil  is 
sw'ept  away,  there  goes  on  continually, 
through  the  action  of  the  elements,  a 
breaking  np  and  pounding  even  of  the 
hardest  rocks,  and  that  thus  there  is 
strewed  upon  the  earth's  sur.^ace  by 
the  winds,  or  brought  down  in  the  se- 
diments of  mountain  torrents,  a  fresh 
deposit  in  the  room  of  the  displaced 
and  far-scattered  covering. 

Now  it  is  only  necessary  to  allude  to 
such  an  arrangement  in  the  material 
world,  and  you  summon  forth  the  ad- 
miration and  applause  of  contemplative 
minds.  It  is  a  thing  so  surprising,  that 
the  waste  and  loss,  which  the  most 
careless  must  observe,  should  be  con- 
tinually and  exactljr  repaired,  though 
by  agencies  whose  workings  wc  can 
scarcely  detect,  that  the  bare  mention 
of  the  fact  elicits,  on  all  sides,  a  con- 
fession, that  creative  wisdom  and  might 
distance  immeasurably  the  stanchest 
of  our  scarchings.  But  we  think  that, 
in  the  spiritiaal  economy,  we  have  some- 
thing, analogous  indeed,  but  still  more 
beautiful  as  an  arrangement.  The  winds 
of  passion,  and  the  floods  of  tempta- 
tion, pass  fiercely  over  the  soil  of  the 
heart,  displacing  often  and  scattering 
that  mould  which  has  been  broken  up 
by  the  ploughshare  of  the  Gospel.  But 
God's  promise  is,  that  he  will  not  suf- 
fer believers  "  to  be  tempted  above  that 
they  are  able;"  1  Cor.  10  :  13;  and 
thus,  though  the  soil  for  a  while  be  dis- 
turbed, it  is  not,  as  in  the  material  sys- 
tem, carried  altogether  away,  but  soon 
resettles,  and  is  again  fit  for  the  hus- 
bandman. But  this  is  not  all.  Every 
overcome  temptation,  ministering,  as  it 
must  do,  to  faith,  and  hope,  and  pa- 
tience,  is  virtually  an   assault  on  the 


112 


THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION. 


granite  of  a  corrupt  nature,  and  helps 
to  break  in  pieces  the  rock  of  which 
there  remains  much  in  the  breasts  of 
the  most  pious.  He  who  conquers  a 
temptation  takes  a  fresh  step  towards 
subduing  himself;  in  other  words,  de- 
taches more  particles  from  the  stone 
and  the  iron.  And  thus,  in  most  accu- 
rate correspondence,  as  in  the  natural 
world  so  in  the  spiritual,  the  tempest 
and  torrent,  which  displace  the  soil, 
provide  fresh  material  for  all  the  pur- 
poses of  vegetation :  but  there  is  this 
difference  between  the  two  :  in  the  na- 
tural world,  the  old  soil  disappears,  and 
its  place  is  supplied  by  the  new  5  in  the 
spiritual,  the  old,  disturbed  for  a  while, 
subsides,  and  is  then  wonderfully  deep- 
ened by  accessions  of  new.  Hope  and 
patience,  exercised  by  the  appointed 
trials  of  life,  cause  an  enrichment  of 
the  soil  in  which  all  christian  graces 
flourish ;  so  that  the  grain  of  mustard 
seed,  bursting  into  a  tree,  finds  ample 
space  for  its  roots,  spreading  them 
wide  and  striking  them  deep.  And  if 
this  be  no  exaggerated  account  of  the 
benefits  resulting  from  a  sedulous  ex- 
ercise of  hope  and  patience  ;  if  it  be 
true  that  he  who,  in  the  scriptural 
sense,  hopes  and  quietly  waits  for  sal- 
vation, is  under  that  discipline  which, 
of  all  others,  ministers  to  the  growth 
of  dispositions  acceptable  to  God  ;  we 
have  omitted,  it  would  seem,  no  step 
in  the  required  demonstration,  but  have 
collected  all  the  elements  of  proof,  that 
*'  it  is  good  that  a  man  should  both  hope 
and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation  of 
the  Lord." 

We  would  only  further  remark,  though 
the  statement  is  perhaps  involved  in  the 
preceding,  that  the  delay  is  good  as  af- 
fording time  in  which  to  glorify  God. 
It  is  a  spectacle  which  should  stir  all 
the  anxieties  and  sympathies  of  a  be- 
liever, that  of  a  world  which  has  been 
ransomed  by  blood-shedding,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  is  overspread  with  impie- 
ty and  infidelity.  The  christian  is  the 
man  of  loyalty  and  uprightness,  forced 
to  dwell  in  the  assemblings  of  traitors. 
With  a  heart  that  beats  true  to  the  king 
of  the  land,  he  must  tarry  amongst 
those  who  have  thrown  off  allegiance. 
On  all  sides  he  must  hear  the  plottings 
of  treason,  and  behold  the  actings  of 
rebellion.  Can  he  fail  to  be  wrought  up 
to  a  longing,  and  effort,  to  arrest,  in 


some  degree,  the  march  of  anarchy,  and 
to  bring  beneath  the  sceptre  of  righ- 
teousness the  revolted  and  ruined  po- 
pulation!   Can  he  be  an  indifferent  and 
cold-hearted   spectator   of  the   despite 
done  to  God  by  every  class  of  society  ; 
and  shall  there  be  no  throbbing  of  spi- 
rit, and  no  yearning  of  soul,  over  thou- 
sands of  his  race,  who,  though  redeem- 
ed by  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  are  pre- 
paring themselves  a  heritage  of  fire  and 
shame  1     We  do  but  reason  from  the 
most  invariable  and  well-known  princi- 
ples of  our  nature,  when  we  argue  that, 
as  a  loyal  and  loving  subject  of  Christ, 
the  believer  must  glow  with  righteous 
indignation  at  the  bold  insults  offered 
to  his  Lord,  and  long  to  bend  every  fa- 
culty and  power  to  the  diminishing  the 
world's  wretchedness    by   overcoming 
its  rebellion.   What  stronger  proof  then 
can  you  ask  of  the  goodness  in  ques- 
tion than    that,   v.'hilst   detained    from 
glory,  we  may  withstand  iinpiety  1    It 
is   yet  a  little  while,  and  we  shall   be 
Avithdrawn  from  this  scene  of  rebellion  ; 
and  no  further  effort,  so  far  as  we  our- 
selves are  concerned,  can  be  made  to- 
wards advancing  Christ's  kingdom.  Oth- 
ers may  come  after  us,  of  warmer  loy- 
alty and  more  resolute  zeal,  and  make 
better  head  against  the  tide  of  apostacJ^ 
But  our  own  opportunities  of  vindica- 
ting Christ's  honor,  and  extending  the 
sway  of  his  sceptre,  will  have  altogeth- 
er passed  away ;  and   the  last   glance 
which  our  spirits,  in  departing,  cast  up- 
on this  earth,  may  show  us  impiety  ca- 
reering with  as  dominant  a  footstep  as 
ever,  and  send  us  into  God's  presence 
with  a  throb  of  self-reproach  at  the  pau- 
city and  poverty  of  our  resistances  to 
the  inight  of  the  evil  one.    We  doubt 
not,  that,  whatever  the  joy  and  peace 
of  a  christian's  deathbed,  there  will  be 
always  a  feeling  of  regret  that  so  little 
has   been  done,  or  rather  so   little  at- 
tempted, for  Christ.    And  if,  whilst  his 
firmament  is   glowing  with  the  dawn- 
ings  of  eternity,  and  the  melody  of  an- 
gels is  just  stealing  on  his  ear,  and  the 
walls  of  the  bright  city  are  bounding 
his  horizon,  one  wish  could  detain  him 
in  the  tabernacle  of  flesh ;  oh,  it  would 
not   be  the  wish  of  tarrying  with  the 
weeping  ones  who  are  clustered  at  his 
bedside  ;  and   it  would  not  be  that  of 
providing  for  children,  of  superintend- 
ing  their   education,   or   of  perfecting 


"tllE'^SDVANTAGES    OF    A    STATE    OF    EXPECTATION, 


113 


some  plan  for  their  settlement  in  life — 
he  knows  that  there  is  a  Husband  of  the 
widow  and  a  Father  of  the  fatherless — 
and  the  only  wish  which  could  put  a 
check  on  his  spirit,  as  the  plumes  of  its 
wing  just  feel  the  free  air,  is  that  he 
might  toil  a  little  longer  for  Christ,  and 
do  at  least  some  fractions  more  of  his 
work,  ere  ushered  into  the  light  of  his 
presence.  And  if  the  sinking  energies 
were  suddenly  recruited,  so  that  the 
pulse  of  the  expiring  man  beat  again 
vigorously;  it  might  at  first  seem  pain- 
ful to  him  to  be  snatched  back  from  glo- 
ry ;  but  remembering,  that,  whilst  vice 
is  enthroned  on  the  high  places  of  the 
earth,  and  millions  bow  down  to  the 
stock  and  the  stone,  there  is  a  mighty 
demand  for  all  the  strenuousness  of 
the  righteous,  he  would  use  returning 
strength  in  uttering  the  confession,  it 
is  good  that  I  yet  hope  and  wait  for 
salvation. 

Now  in  winding  up  this  subject  of 
discourse,  we  have  only  to  remark  that 
religion  gives  a  cluiractcr  to  hope  of 
which  otherwise  it  is  altogether  desti- 
tute. You  will  scarcely  find  the  man, 
in  all  the  ranges  of  our  creation,  whose 
bosom  bounds  not  at  the  mention  of 
hope.  What  is  hope  but  the  solace  and 
stay  of  those  whom  it  most  cheats  and 
deludes;  whispering  of  health  to  the 
sick  man,  and  of  better  days  to  the  de- 
jected ;  the  fairy  name  on  which  young 
imaginations  pour  forth  all  the  poetry 
of  their  souls,  and  whose  syllables  float, 
like  aerial  music,  into  the  ear  of  frozen 
and  paralyzed  old  age  1  In  the  long  ca- 
talogue of  human  jrviefs  there  is  scarce 
one  of  so  crushing  a  pressure  that  hope 
loses  its  elasticity,  becoming  unable 
to  soar,  and  bring  down  fresh  and  fair 
leaves  from  some  far-off  domain  which 
itself  creates.  And  yet,  whilst  hope  is 
the  great  inciter  to  exertion,  and  the 
great  soother  of  wretchedness,  who 
knows  not  that  it  ordinarily  deceives 
mankind,  and  that,  though  it  crov/d  the 
future  Avith  glorious  resting-places,  and 
thus  tempt  us  to  bear  up  a  while  against 
accumulated  disasters,  its  palaces  and 
gardens  vanish  as  we  approach  ;  and  we 
are  kept  from  despair  only  because  the 
pinnacles  and  forests  of  another  bright 
scene  fringe  the  horizon,  and  the  de- 
ceiver finds  us  willing  to  be  yet  again 
deceived  1  Hope  is  a  beautiful  meteor  : 
but,  nevertheless,  this  meteor,  like  the 


rainbow,  is  not  only  lovely  because  of 
its  seven  rich  and  radiant  stripes;  it  is 
the  memorial  of  a  covenant  between 
man  and  his  Maker,  telling  us  that  we 
are  born  for  immortality ;  destined,  un- 
less we  sepulchre  our  greatness,  to  the 
highest  honor  and  noblest  happiness. 
Hope  proves  man  deathless.  It  is  the 
struggle  of  the  soul,  breaking  loose  from 
what  is  perishable,  and  attesting  her 
eternity.  And  when  the  eye  of  the 
mind  is  turned  upon  Christ,  "delivered 
for  our  offences  and  raised  again  for  our 
justification,"  Romans,  4  :  25,  the  unsub- 
stantial and  deceitful  character  is  taken 
away  from  hope :  hope  is  one  of  the 
prime  pieces  of  that  armor  of  proof  in 
which  the  believer  is  arrayed ;  for  St. 
Paul  bids  us  take  "  for  an  helmet  the 
hope  of  salvation."  1  Thess.  5:8.  It  is 
not  good  that  a  man  hope  for  wealth, 
since  "riches  profit  not  in  the  day  of 
wrath  ;"  Prov.  11:4-;  and  it  is  not  good 
that  he  hope  for  human  honors,  since 
the  mean  and  mighty  go  down  to  the 
same  burial:  but  it  is  good  that  he  hope 
for  salvation;  the  meteor  then  gathers, 
like  a  golden  halo,  round  his  head,  and, 
as  he  presses  forward  in  the  battle-time, 
no  weapon  of  the  evil  one  can  pierce 
through  that  helmet. 

It  is  good,  then,  that  he  hope  :  it  is 
good  also  that  he  quietly  wait.  There 
is  much  promised  in  Scripture  to  the 
waiting  upon  God.  Men  wish  an  imme- 
diate answer  to  prayer,  and  think  them- 
selves forgotten  unless  the  reply  be  in- 
stantaneous. It  is  a  great  mistake.  The 
delay  is  often  part,  and  the  best  part,  of 
the  answer.  It  exercises  faith,  and  hope, 
and  patience  ;  and  what  better  thing  can 
be  done  for  us  than  the  strengthening 
those  graces  to  whose  growth  shall  be 
proportioned  the  splendors  of  our  im- 
mortality 1  It  is  good,  then,  that  ye  wait. 
"  They  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  re- 
new their  strength  ;  they  shall  mount  up 
with  wings  as  eagles ;  they  shall  run,  and 
not  be  weary  ;  and  they  shall  walk,  and 
not  faint."  "isa.  40:31.  And  ye  must, 
according  to  the  phrase  of  our  text,  wait 
for  God,  "  The  Lord  is  a  God  of  judg- 
ment ;  blessed  are  all  they  that  wait  for 
him."  Isa.  30:18.  And  if  the  time  seem 
long,  and,  worn  down  with  affliction  and 
wearied  with  toil,  ye  feel  impatient  for 
the  moment  of  full  emancipation — re- 
member ye — and  let  the  remembrance 
check  every  murmur — that  God  leaves 
15 


114 


TRUTH    AS   IT    IS    IN    JESUS. 


you  upon  earth  in  order  that,  advancing 
in  holiness,  you  may  secure  yourselves 
a  higher  grade  amongst  the  children  of 
the  first  resurrection.  Strive  ye,  there- 
fore, to  "  let  patience  have  her  perfect 
work."  James,  1  : 4.  It  is  "  yet  a  little 
while,  and  he  that  shall  come  will  come." 
Heb.  10  :  37.  Be  ye  not  disheartened; 
for  "the  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at 
hand."  Rom.  13:12.  As  yet  there  has 
been  no  day  to  this  creation,  since  re- 
bellion wove  the  sackcloth  into  the  over- 
head canopy.  But  the  day  comes  on- 
Avard.  There  is  that  edge  of  gold  on 
the  snow-mountains  of  a  long-darkened 
Avorld,  which  marks  the  ascending  of  the 
sun  in  his  strength.  "  Watchman,  what 
of  the  night '?  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night'?  The  watchman  said,  the  morn- 
ing cometh  and  also  the  night."  Isa.  21 : 
11,  12.  Strange  that  morning  and  night 
should  come  hand  in  hand.  But  the 
morning  to  the  righteous,  as  bringing 
salvation,  shall  be  the  night  to  the  wick- 
ed, as  bringing  destruction.  On  then, 
still  on,  lest  the  morning  break,  ere  ho- 
ping and  waiting  have  wrought  their  in- 
tent. Who  will  sleep,  when,  as  he  slum- 
bers, bright  things  glide  by,  which,  if 
wakeful,  he  might  have  added  to  his  por- 
tionl  Who  will  put  off  the  armor,  when, 


by  stemming  the  battle-tide,  he  may  ga- 
ther, every  instant,  spoil  and  trophies 
for  eternity  1  Who  will  tamper  with 
carnal  indulgences,  when,  for  the  poor 
enjoyment  of  a  second,  he  must  barter 
some  everduring  privilege  1  Wrestle, 
strive,  fight,  as  men  who  "know  that 
your  labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord."  1 
Cor.  15  :  58.  Ye  cannot  indeed  merit  ad- 
vancement. What  is  called  reward  will 
be  the  reward  of  nothing  but  God's 
work  within  you,  and,  therefore,  be  a 
gift  most  royal  and  gratuitous.  But 
whilst  there  is  the  strongest  instituted 
connection  between  attainment  here 
and  enjoyment  hereafter,  we  need  not 
pause  upon  terms,  but  may  summon 
you  to  holiness  by  the  certainties  of 
happiness.  The  Judge  of  mankind  com- 
eth, bringing  with  him  rewards  all  won- 
derfully glorious ;  but,  nevertheless, 
"  one  star  differeth  from  another  star 
in  glory."    1  Cor.  15  :  41. 

O  God,  it  were  an  overwhelming 
mercy,  and  a  magnificent  portion,  if 
we  should  obtain  the  least ;  but  since 
thou  dost  invite,  yea,  command  us 
to  "  strive  for  masteries,"  we  will 
struggle — thy  grace  being  our  strength 
— for  the  higher  and  more  beau- 
tiful. 


SERMON    XI 


TRUTH    AS    IT    IS    IN    JESUS 


"  But  yc  have  not  so  learned  Christ ;  if  so  be  that  ye  have  heard  him,  and  have  been  tanght  by 
him,  as  the  tenth  is  in  Jesus." — Ephesians,  4  :  20  and  21st. 


There  is  a  singular  verse  in  the  Book 
of  Ecclesiastes  which  appears  directed 
against  a  common,  though,  perhaps,  un- 
suspected error.  "Say  not  thou  what 
is  the  cause  that  the  former  days  were 


better  than  these  1  for  thou  dost  not 
inquire  wisely  concerning  this."  Eccl. 
7:10.  We  believe  that  there  exists  a 
disposition  in  persons,  and  especially 
in  old  persons,  to  set  present  years  in 


TRUTH    AS    IT    IS    IN    JESUS. 


115 


contrast  with  the  past,  and  to  prove, 
from  the  comparison,  a  great  and  on- 
going deterioration  in  the  character  of 
mankind.  And  it  is  quite  certain,  that, 
if  this  disposition  were  observable  in 
Solomon's  days,  as  well  as  in  our  own, 
it  must  pass  ordinarily  as  the  mark  of 
a  jaundiced  and  ill-judging  mind.  If  it 
have  been  true  in  some  ages,  it  cannot 
have  been  in  all,  that  the  moral  aspect 
of  the  times  has  grown  gradually  dark- 
er. We  must  be  warranted,  therefore, 
in  ascribing  a  disposition  which  has 
subsisted  through  days  of  improve- 
ment, as  well  as  of  declension,  to  a 
peevish  determination  to  find  fault,  and 
not  to  a  sober  sitting  in  judgment  upon 
matters  of  fact. 

But  the  workings  of  the  very  same 
disposition  may  be  traced  under  other 
and  less  obvious  forms.  We  believe, 
for  example,  that  men  are  often  in- 
clined to  compare  the  religious  advan- 
tages of  the  earlier  and  later  days  of 
Christianity,  and  to  uphold  the  superi- 
ority of  the  past  to  the  present.  It  is 
imagined,  that  to  have  been  numbered 
amongst  the  living  when  Jesus  sojourn- 
ed upon  earth,  to  have  been  permit- 
ted to  behold  the  miracles  which  he 


history  to  assure  us  of  the  contrary, 
we  might  be  disposed  to  conclude,  with 
much  appearance  of  fairness,  that  they 
who  beheld  diseases  scattered,  and 
death  mastered,  by  a  word,  must  have 
instantly  followed  Him  who  wrought 
out  the  marvels.  Yet  we  may  easily 
certify  ourselves,  that  the  Jew  was 
occupied  by  prejudices  which  must 
have  more  than  counterbalanced  his 
peculiar  advantages.  He  had  before 
him,  so  to  speak,  a  sketch  of  his  Mes- 
siah, whose  accuracy  he  never  thought 
of  questioning  ;  and  if  a  claimant  of 
the  Messiahship  presented  not  the  fea- 
tures which  Avere  foremost  in  this 
sketch,  then,  almost  as  a  matter  of 
course,  his  pretensions  were  rejected 
with  scorn.  It  is  nothing  to  say  that 
ancient  prophecy,  more  thoroughly  in- 
vestigated, might  have  taught  the  Jew 
the  error  of  expecting,  on  the  first  ad- 
vent of  Messiah,  a  temporal  prince  and 
deliverer.  The  error  was  so  ingrained 
into  his  spirit,  that  it  was  easier  for 
him  to  refer  miracles  to  the  power  of 
the  evil  one,  than  to  suspect  that  he 
harbored  a  false  expectation.  So  that, 
when  we  compare  our  own  circumstan- 
ces with  those  of  the  Jew,  it  behoves 


wrought,   and   to   hear   from  his   own  i  us  to  remember,  that,  if  we  have  not 


lips  the  truths  of  redemption — it  is 
imagined,  we  say,  that  there  must  have 
been  in  this  a  privilege  ampler  in  di- 
mensions than  any  which  falls  to  men 
of  later  generations.  And  from  such 
imagining  there  will  spring  often  a  kind 
of  excusing,  whether  of  infidelity,  or  of 
lukewarmness ;  our  not  believing  at 
all,  or  our  believing  only  languidly,  be 


his  advantages  in  supernatural  mani- 
festations, neither  have  we  his  disad- 
vantages in  national  prepossessions. 
We  are  not  to  argue  the  effect  produ- 
ced upon  him,  from  that  which  might 
now  be  produced  upon  us,  by  the  work- 
ing of  miracles.  In  his  case  every 
feeling  Avhich  results  from  early  asso- 
ciation, or  from  the  business  of  educa- 


ing  accounted  for  on  the  principle,  that  j  tion,  was  enlisted  against  Christianity 
the  evidence  afforded  is  far  less  than  j  whereas  it  may  almost  be  affirmed,  that, 
might  have  been  vouchsafed.  Thus,  j  in  our  case,  every  such  feeling  is  on  the 
under  a  specious,  but  more  dangerous  ,  side  of  Christianity.  If,  therefore,  we  al- 
aspect,  we  are  met  again  by  the  ques-  i  low  that  the  testimony,  which  we  pos- 
tion,  "  What  is  the  cause  that  the  for-  sess  to  the  truth  of  our  religion,  wears 
mer  days  were  better  than  these  ?"  j  not  outwardly  the  same  mightiness  as 
Now  we  believe  the  question  to  be  j  that  afforded  in  the  days  of  the  Savior, 
grounded    altogether    on    mistake.     If    we  should  still  contend  that  the  predis- 


there  be  advantage  on  one  side  as 
contrasted  with  the  other,  we  are  per- 
suaded that  it  lies  with  the  present 
generation,  and  not  with  the  past.  It 
is  true  that  the  exhibition  of  miracu- 
lous energies,  which  was  made  in  the 
cities  of  Judea,  gave  what  ought  to 
have  been  overwhelming  attestation  to 
the  divinity  of  the  mission  of  Jesus. 
If    we    possessed   not  the  records  of 


posing  circumstances  in  our  own  case 
far  more  than  compensate  the  sensible 
witness  in  that  of  the  Jew. 

We  may  yet  further  observe,  that 
not  only  are  our  disadvantages  less, 
but,  on  a  stricter  examination,  our  ad- 
vantages will  appear  greater.  We  may 
think  there  would  have  been  a  vast  ad- 
vantage in  seeing  Jesus  work  miracles; 
but,  after  all,  we  could  only  hav^e  be- 


116 


TRUTH    AS    IT    IS    IN    JE&I'S. 


lieved  that  he  actually  worked  them. 
And  if  we  can  once  certify  ourselves 
of  this  fact,  we  occupy,  in  the  strictest 
sense,  the  same  position  as  though  we 
had  been  spectators  of  the  wonder.     It 
would  be  altogether  childish  to  main- 
tain, that  I  may  not  be  just  as  certain 
of  a  thing  which  I  have  not  seen,  as  of 
another  which  I  have  seen.    Who  is  in 
any  degree  less  confident,   that  there 
was  once   such   a   king   as   Henry  the 
Eighth  on  the  throne  of  these  realms, 
than  that  there  is  now  such  a  king  as 
William  the  Fourth  ]     Or  is  there  one 
of  us  who  thinks  that  he  would  have 
felt   more   sure   of  there    having  been 
such  a  king  as  Henry  the  Eighth,  had 
he  lived  in  the  times  of  that   monarch 
in  place  of  the  present  1  We  hold  then 
the  supposition  to  be  indefensible,  that 
the  spectator  of  a  miracle  has  necessa- 
rily an  advantage  over  those  who  only 
hear   of   that   miracle.     Let    there    be 
clear    and    unequivocal    testimony    to 
the    fact   of  the    miracle   having   been 
wrought,   and    the    spectator   and   the 
hearer  stand  well  nigh  on  a  par.     That 
there  should  be  belief   in  the  fact,  is 
the  highest  result  which  can,  in  either 
case,  be  produced.     But  assuredly  this 
result  may  as  well  be  effected  by  the 
power  of  authenticated  witness,  as  by 
the    machinery    of   our    senses.     And, 
without  question,  the  testimony  to  the 
truth  of  Christianity  is  of  so  growing  a 
character,  and   each    age,    as    it    rolls 
away,  pays  in  so  large  a  contribution 
to  the  evidences  of  faith,  that  it  were 
easy  to  prove,  that  the  men  of  the  pre- 
sent generation  gain,  rather  than  lose, 
by  distance  from  the   first  erection  of 
the  cross.     It  is  saying  but   little,   to 
affirm  that  we  have  as  good  grounds  of 
persuasion  that  Jesus  came  from  God, 
as  we  should  have  had,  if  permitted  to 
behold    the    mighty   workings    of   his 
power.     We  are  bold  to  say  that  we 
have  even  better  grounds.    The  testi- 
mony of  our  senses,  however  convinc- 
ing for  the  moment,  is  of  so  fleeting 
and  unsubstantial  a  character,  that,  a 
year  or  two  after  we  had  seen  a  mira- 
cle, we  might  be  brought  to  question 
whether  there  had  not  been  jugglery 
in  the  worker,  or  credulity  in  ourselves. 
If  we  found  a  nation  up  in  arms,  main- 
taining that  there  might  have  been  ma- 
gic or  trickery,  but  that  there  had  not 
been  supernatural  power  ;    we  might, 


perchance,  be  easily  borne  down  by  the 
outcry,  if  the  remembered  witness  of 
our  eye-sight  were  all  to  which  appeal 
could  be  made.  It  is  not  difficult  to 
begin  to  suspect  ourselves  in  the  wrong, 
when  we  find  no  one  willing  to  allow 
us  in  the  right.  And  we  therefore  main- 
tain, tiiat,  living  as  we  do  in  a  day  when 
generation  after  generation  has  sat  in 
assize  on  Christianity,  and  registered  a 
verdict  that  it  has  God  for  its  author, 
we  possess  the  very  largest  advantages 
over  those  who  saw  with  their  own 
eyes  what  Jesus  did,  and  heard  with 
their  own  ears  what  Jesus  said. 

Now  you  may  not  all  readily  perceive 
the  connection   of  these  remarks  with 
the  passage  of  Scripture  on  which  we 
purpose  to  meditate.     Yet  the  connec- 
tion is  of  the  strictest.     The  apostle  ad- 
dresses himself  to  converts,  who,  like 
ourselves,  had  not  been  privileged  to 
behold  the  Savior  of  mankind.     Christ 
Jesus  had   not   walked   the   streets   of 
Ephesus:  and  if  it  be  supposable  that 
certain  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  idola- 
trous city  had  visited  Judea  during  the 
period  of  his  sojourning  on  earth,  it  is 
incredible  that  the  Ephesian  church,  as 
a  body,  had  enjoyed  with  Him  personal 
communion.     Does  then   St.   Paul  ad- 
dress the  Ephesians  as  though  disad- 
vantaged by  this  circumstance  1    Does 
he  represent  them  as  less  favored  than 
their  brethren  of  Jerusalem  who  had 
lived    within    the    circles    of   Christ's 
ministrations'?     On  the  contrarj^  you- 
would  judge,  from  the  style  of  his  ad- 
dress,   that   he   wrote   this   Epistle   to 
Jewish,  and  not  to  heathen  converts. 
He   speaks  to   the   Ephesians   of  their 
having  heard  Christ,  and  of  their  hav- 
ing been  taught  by  Christ.    "  If  so  be 
that  ye  have  heard  him,  and  have  been 
taught   by  him."     And   what   shall  we 
gather   from   this,   but   a  rigid    confir- 
mation  of   our  foregoing   remarks ;   a 
strengthening  of  the  opinion,  that  those 
who  have  not  seen  may  stand  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  position  as  those  who 
have;  and  that,  consequently,  the  ab- 
sence of  what  may  be  called  sensible 
proof  furnishes  no  groundwork  of  com- 
plaint, that  "the  former  days  were  bet- 
ter than  these  1" 

We  must,  indeed,  allow  that  the 
Ephesians  were  brought,  more  nearly 
than  ourselves,  into  personal  contact 
with    Christ,    because    instructed   by 


TRUTH    AS    IT    IS    IN    JESUS. 


117 


teachers  who  had  seen  the  Savior  in 
the  flesh.  Yet  as  soon  as  testimony 
ceases  to  be  the  testimony  of  senses, 
and  becomes  that  of  witnesses,  there 
is  an  identification  of  the  circumstan- 
ces of  men  of  former  times,  and  of  lat- 
ter. Whether  the  testimony  be  trans- 
mitted through  one,  or  through  many ; 
whether  we  receive  it  from  those  wlio 
themselves  saw  the  Savior,  or  from 
those  who  have  taken  the  facts  on  the 
witness  of  others;  there  is  the  same  dis- 
tinction between  such  testimony,  and 
that  resulting  from  being  actual  specta- 
tors, or  actual  auditors ;  and  it  might, 
therefore,  be  said  to  us,  as  well  as  to 
the  Ephesians,  ye  have  heard  Christ, 
and  ye  have  been  taught  by  Christ. 

But  the  portion  of  our  text  on  which 
we  would  fix  mainly  your  attention  is 
the  description  of  truth  as  made  known 
by  revelation.  The  teaching  whereof 
the  Ephesians  had  been  the  subjects, 
and  which,  therefore,  we  are  bound  to 
consider  imparted  to  ourselves,  is  ex- 
pressly stated  to  be  "  as  the  truth  is 
in  Jesus."  Now  this  is  a  singular  de- 
finition of  truth,  and  well  worth  your 
closest  attention.  We  hold  it  unques- 
tionable, that,  long  ere  Christ  came  in- 
to the  world,  much  of  truth,  yea,  of 
solid  and  illustrious  truth,  had  been  de- 
tected by  the  unaided  searchings  of 
mankind.  We  should  not  think  that 
any  advantage  were  gained  to  the  cause 
of  revelation,  if  we  succeeded  in  de- 
monstrating, that,  over  the  whole  face 
of  our  planet,  with  the  lonely  exception 
of  the  narrow  province  of  Judea,  there 
had  rested,  previously  to  the  birth  of 
the  Redeemer,  a  darkness  altogether 
impenetrable.  We  are  quite  ready  to 
allow,  that,  where  the  full  blaze  was 
not  made  visible,  glimmerings  and 
sparklings  were  caught  ;  so  that,  if  up- 
on no  point,  connected  with  futurity, 
perfect  information  were  obtained,  up- 
on many  points  a  degree  of  intelligence 
was  reached  which  should  not  be  over- 
looked in  our  estimate  of  heathenism. 
We  think  it  right  to  assert,  under  cer- 
tain limitations,  that  man,  whilst  left 
to  himself,  dug  fragments  of  truth  from 
the  mighty  quarry  ;  though  we  know 
that  he  possessed  not  the  ability  of 
fashioning  completely  the  statue,  nor 
even  of  combining  into  symmetry  the 
detached  portions  brought  up  by  [his 
oft-renewed    strivings.     We    do    not, 


therefore,  suppose  it  implied  in  the  ex- 
pression of  our  text,  that  truth  was  un- 
known amongst  men  until,  having  been 
taught  by  the  Redeemer,  it  might  be 
designated  "truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 
On  the  contrary,  we  are  persuaded  that 
the  Ephesians,  however  shut  out  from 
the  advantages  of  previous  revelations, 
possessed  many  elements  of  moral 
truth  before  Christ's  apostles  appeared 
in  their  city.  Hence  the  definition  of 
our  text  implies  not,  that,  out  of  Jesus, 
there  were  no  discoverable  manifesta- 
tions of  truth;  but  rather,  that  truth, 
when  seen  in  and  through  Jesus,  as- 
sumes new  and  distinguishing  features. 
And  it  is  upon  this  fact  we  desire,  on 
the  present  occasion,  to  turn  the  main 
of  your  attention.  We  admit  that  cer- 
tain portions  of  Christ's  teaching  rela- 
ted to  truths  which  were  not  then,  for 
the  first  time,  made  known  to  mankind. 
Other  portions  either  involved  new 
disclosures,  or  brought  facts  into  no- 
tice which  had  been  strangely  and 
fatally  overlooked.  But  whether  the 
truth  were  new  or  old,  the  circum- 
stance of  its  being  truth  "as  it  is  in 
Jesus,"  gave  it  an  aspect,  and  a  char 
racter,  which  it  would  never  have  as- 
sumed, if  communicated  through  an- 
other channel  than  the  Mediator.  Such 
we  hold  to  be  the  drift  of  the  expres- 
sion. It  becomes,  then,  our  business  to 
endeavor  to  prove,  that  "  truth,  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,"  puts  on  a  clothing,  or  a  color- 
ing, derived  from  the  Redeemer ;  so 
that  if  you  separate  truth  from  him  who 
is  "the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life," 
John,  14  :  6,  it  shall  seem  practically 
a  difl'erent  thing  from  itself  when  con- 
nected with  this  glorious  personage. 

Now  we  shall  take  truth  under  two 
principal  divisions,  and  compare  it  as 
"it  is  in  Jesus"  with  what  it  is  out  of 
Jesus,  We  shall  refer,  first,  to  those 
truths  which  have  to  do  with  God's 
nature  and  character;  secondly,  to 
those  which  have  to  do  with  man's  con- 
dition. There  may  be,  indeed,  many 
minor  departments  of  moral  truth.  But 
we  think  that  these  two  great  divisions 
include  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  lesser. 
We  turn  then,  first,  to  the  truths 
which  have  to  do  with  the  nature  and 
character  of  God.  We  begin  with  the 
lowest  element  of  truth;  namely,  that 
there  is  a  great  first  cause,  through 
whose  agency  hath  arisen  the  fair  and 


118 


TRUTH   AS    IT    IS   IN    JESUS. 


costly  fabric  of  the  visible  universe. 
We  have  here  a  truth,  which,  under 
some  shape  or  another,  has  been  recog- 
nized and  held  in  every  age,  and  by 
every  nation.  Barbarism  and  civiliza- 
tion have  had  to  do  v.itli  peculiar  forms 
and  modifications  of  this  truth.  But 
neither  the  rude  processes  of  the  one, 
nor  the  attenuating  of  the  other,  have 
availed  to  produce  its  utter  banishment 
from  the  earth.  However  various  the 
tribes  into  which  the  human  race  hath 
been  broken,  the  phenomenon  has  ne- 
ver existed  of  a  nation  of  atheists.  The 
voyagers  who  have  passed  over  waters 
which  had  never  been  ploughed  by  the 
sesTman,  and  lighted  upon  islands  whose 
loneliness  had  shut  them  out  from  the 
knowledge  and  companionship  of  other 
districts  of  the  globe,  have  found  al- 
ways, amid  the  savage  and  secluded 
inhabitants,  the  notion  of  some  invisi- 
ble being,  great  in  his  power,  and  aw- 
ful in  his  vengeance.  We  cannot,  there- 
fore, in  any  sense  maintain,  that  the 
truth  of  the  existence  of  a  God  Avas 
undiscovered  truth,  so  long  as  it  was 
not  "  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  Christ 
came  not  to  teach  what  natural,  or  ra- 
ther traditional,  religion  was  capable  of 
teaching  ;  though  he  gave  sanctions  to 
its  lessons,  of  which,  heretofore,  they 
had  been  altogether  destitute.  But  take 
the  truth  of  the  existence  of  a  God  as 
it  is  out  of  Jesus,  and  then  take  that 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and  let  us  see  whe- 
ther, in  the  two  cases,  the  same  truth 
Avill  not  bear  a  very  diflerent  aspect. 

We  know  it  to  be  said  of  Christ  by 
St.  Paul,  that  he  was  "  the  image  of  the 
invisible  God."  Colos.  1  :  15.  It  seems 
to  us  that  the  sense,  in  w'hich  Christ  is 
the  image,  is  akin  to  that  in  which  he 
is  the  word  of  the  Almighty.  What 
speech  is  to  thought,  that  is  the  in- 
carnate Son  to  the  invisible  Father. 
Thought  is  a  viewless  thing.  It  can 
traverse  space,  and  run  to  and  fro  j 
through  creation,  and  pass  instantane- 
ously from  one  extreme  of  the  scale  of 
being  to  the  other  ;  and,  all  the  while, 
there  is  no  power  in  my  fellow-men  to 
discern  the  careerings  of  this  mysteri-  ; 
ous  agent.  But  speech  is  manifested 
thought.  It  is  thought  embodied ;  made  | 
sensible,  and  palpable,  to  those  who 
could  not  apprehend  it  in  its  secret  and 
silent  expatiations.  And  precisely  what 
speech  thus  effects  in  regard  to  thought. 


the  incarnate  Son  effected  in  regard  to 
the  invisible  Father.     The  Son  is  the 
manifested  Father,  and,  therefore,  fitly 
termed  "  the  Word  :"  the  relation  be- 
tween the  incarnate  Son  and  the  Father 
being  accurately  that  between  speech 
and   thought ;  the   one   exhibiting  and 
setting  forth  the  other.    It  is  in  some- 
what of  a  similar  sense  that  Christ  may 
be  termed  "the  image  of  the  invisible 
God."    ''  God  is  a  Spirit."    John,  4  : 
24.    Of  this  spirit  the  creation  is  every 
where  full,  and  the  loneliest  and  most 
secluded  spot  is  occupied  by  its  pre- 
sence.    Nevertheless,  we  can  discern 
little  of  the  universal  goings  forth  of 
this  Deity.    There  are  works  above  us, 
and  around  us,  Avhich  present  tokens  of 
his  wisdom  and  supremacy.  But  these, 
after  all,  are  only  feeble  manifestations 
of  his  more  illustrious  attributes.  Nay, 
they  leave   those   attributes   well-nigh 
wholly    unrevealed.     I    cannot    learn 
God's   holiness  from  the  stars  or  the 
mountains.    I  cannot  read  his  faithful- 
ness in  the  ocean  or  the  cataract.  Even 
his  wisdom,  and  power,  and  love,  are 
but  faintly  portrayed  in  the  torn  and 
disjointed  fragments  of  this  fallen  crea- 
tion.   And  seeing,  therefore,  that  Dei- 
ty, invisible  as  to  his  essence,  can  be- 
come visible  as  to  his  attributes,  only 
through  some  direct  manifestation  not 
found  in  his  material  workmanship,  God 
sent  his  well-beloved  Son  to  assume  our 
flesh  ;  and   this  Son,  exhibiting  in  and 
through  his  humanity  as  much  of  his 
divine  properties  as  creatureship  could 
admit,    became    unto    mankind     "  the 
image  of  the  invisible  God."    He  did 
not,  in  strict   matter-of-fact,  reveal  to 
mankind  that  there  is  a  God.    But  he 
made  known  to  them,  most  powerfully, 
and  most  abundantly,  the  nature  and 
attributes  of  God.     The  beams  of  di- 
vinity, passing  through  his   humanity 
as  through  a  softening  medium,  slione 
upon  the  earth  with  a  lustre  sufficient- 
ly  tempered   to  allow  of  their  irradi- 
ating, without  scorching  and  consum- 
ing.   And  they  who  gazed  on  this  mys- 
terious person,  moving  in  his  purity, 
and  his  benevolence,  through  the  lines 
of  a  depraved  and  scornful  population, 
saw  not  indeed  God — "  for  no  man  hath 
seen  God  at  any  time,"  1  John,  4  :  12, 
and  spirit  must  necessarily  evade  the 
searchings  of  sense — but  they  saw  God 
imaged  with  the  most  thorough  fidcli- 


THUTH    A3    IT    IS    IN    JESUS. 


119 


ty,  and  his  every  propcrty'"eni'bofliecl, 
so  far  as  the  immaterial  can  discover 
itself  through  the  material. 

Now  we  think  you  can  scarcely  fail 
to  perceive,  that  if  you  detach  the 
truth  of  the  being  of  a  God  from  Jesus, 
and  if  you  then  take  this  truth  "  as  it  is 
in  Jesus,"  the  difierence  in  aspect  is 
almost  a  difference  in  the  truth  itself. 
Apart  from  revelation,  I  can  believe 
that  there  is  a  God.  I  look  upon  the 
wonder-workings  by  which  I  am  en- 
compassed ;  and  I  must  sacrifice  all  that 
belongs  to  me  as  a  rational  creature,  if 
I  espouse  the  theory  that  chance  has 
been  parent  to  the  splendid  combina- 
tions. jBut  what  can  be  more  vague, 
what  more  indefinite,  than  those  no- 
tions of  Deity  which  reason,  at  the  best, 
is  capable  of  forming  1  The  evil  which 
is  mixed  with  good  in  the  creation  ;  the 
disordered  appearances  which  seem  to 
mark  the  absence  of  a  supreme  and 
vigilant  government ;  the  frequent  tri- 
umph of  wickedness,  and  the  corre- 
spondent depression  of  virtue  ;  these, 
and  the  like  stern  and  undeniable  mys- 
teries, will  perplex  me  in  every  attempt 
to  master  satisfactorily  the  Unity  of 
Godhead.  But  let  me  regard  Jesus  as 
making  known  to  me  God,  and  straight- 
way there  succeeds  a  calm  to  my  con- 
fused and  unsettled  imaginings.  He 
tells  me  by  his  words,  and  shows  me 
by  his  actions,  that  all  things  are  at  the 
disposal  of  one  eternal  and  inscrutable 
Creator.  Putting  forth  superhuman 
ability  alike  in  the  bestowment  of  what 
is  good,  and  in  the  removal  of  what  is 
evil,  he  furnishes  me  with  the  strictest 
demonstration  that  there  are  not  two 
principles  which  can  pretend  to  hold 
sway  in  the  universe  ;  but  that  God,  a 
being  without  rival,  and  alone  in  his 
majesties,  created  whatsoever  is  good, 
and  permitted  whatsoever  is  evil. 

Thus   the   truth,   the  foundation  of 
truth,  of  the  existence  of  a  God,  takes 
the    strength,  and  the  complexion,  of 
health,   only  in  the   degree  that  it  is 
truth  "as  it  is  in  Jesus."  ]\Ien  labored 
and  struggled  hard  to  reach  the  doc- 
trine of  the  unity  of  Godhead.  But  phi- 1 
losophy,    with  all  the  splendor  of  its 
discoveries,  could  never  banish  poly- 
theism  from  the  earth.    It  was  reser-  ' 
ved  for  Christianity  to  establish  a  truth  I 
which,  now,  we  are  disposed  to  class 
amongst  the  elements  of  even  natural 


theology.  And  when  you  contrast  the 
belief  in  the  existence  of  Deity  which 
obtained  generally  before  the  comino" 
of  Christ,  with  that  established  where- 
soever the  Gospel  gains  footing  as  a 
communication  from  heaven  ;  the  one, 
a  belief  in  many  gods  ;  the  other,  a  be- 
lief in  one  God — the  first,  therefore,  a 
belief  from  which  reason  herself  now 
instinctively  recoils;  the  second,  a  be- 
lief which  carries  on  its  front  the  dig- 
nity and  beauty  of  a  sublime  moral  fact 
— why,  you  will  all  quickly  admit  that 
the  truth  of  the  existence  of  God,  as  it 
is  out  of  Jesus,  differs,  immeasurably, 
from  that  same  truth,  "  as  it  is  in  Je- 
sus:" and  you  will  thus  grant  the  ac- 
curacy of  the  proposition  now  under 
review,  namely,  that  truth  becomes, 
practically,  new  truth,  and  effective 
truth,  by  being  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 

Now,  so  far  as  natural  theology  is 
concerned,  we  derive,  ordinarily,  the 
truth  of  the  existence  of  God  from  the 
curious  and  mighty  workmanship  of 
the  visible  creation.  We  conclude  that 
a  great  intelligent  cause  must  have 
spread  out  this  panorama  of  grandeur, 
and  loveliness,  and  contrivance.  But 
let  us  deal  with  the  truth,  that  God  built 
the  worlds,  just  as  Avith  the  other  truth 
of  there  being  a  God.  Let  us  take  it  out 
of  Jesus,  and  then  let  us  take  it  in  Jesus. 

It  is  a  vast  deal  easier  for  the  mind 
to  push  onward  into  what  is  to  come, 
than  backward  into  what  is  past.  Let  a 
thing  exist,  and  Ave  can,  in  a  certain 
sense,  master  the  thought  of  its  exist- 
ence being  indefinitely  continued.  But 
if,  in  searching  out  the  beginnings  of 
its  existence,  we  can  find  no  period  at 
which  it  was  not,  then  presently  the 
mind  is  confounded,  and  the  idea  is  too 
vast  for  its  most  giant-like  grapplings. 
This  is  exactly  the  case  Avith  regard  to 
the  Godhead.  We  are  able,  compara- 
tivelj''  speaking,  to  take  in  the  truth, 
that  God  shall  never  cease  to  be.  But 
Ave  have  no  capacity  Avhatsoever  for 
this  other  truth,  that  God  hath  ahA'ays 
been.  I  could  go  back  a  thousand  ages, 
or  a  million  ages,  ay,  or  a  thousand  mil- 
lions of  ages;  and  though  the  mind 
might  be  Avearied  with  traversing  so 
vast  a  district  of  time,  yet  if  I  then 
reached  a  point  where  pausing  I  might 
say,  here  Deity  began,  here  Godhead 
first  rose  into  being,  the  worn  spirit 
Avould  recruit  itself,  and  feel  that  the 


120 


TRUTH    AS    IT    IS    IN    JESUS. 


end  compensated  the  toil  of  the  jour- 
neying. But  it  is  tlie  being  unable  to 
assign  any  beginning  j  rather,  it  is  the 
knowing  that  there  never  was  begin- 
ning ;  this  it  is,  we  say,  which  hopeless- 
ly distances  every  finite  intelligence  ; 
the  most  magnificent,  but  certainly,  at 
the  same  time,  the  most  overpowering 
truth,  being  that  He,  at  whose  word 
the  universe  commenced,  knew  never 
himself  a  moment  of  commencement. 

Now  the  necessity  under  which  we 
thus  lie  o[  ascribing  beginning  to  God's 
works,  but  not  to  God  himself,  forces 
on  us  the  contemplation  of  a  period 
when  no  worlds  had  started  into  being  5 
and  space,  in  its  infinite  circuits,  was 
full  only  of  the  Eternal  One.  And  then 
comes  the  question,  as  to  the  design 
and  purpose  of  Deity  in  peopling  with 
systems  the  majestic  solitude,  and  sur- 
rounding himself  with  various  orders 
of  creatures.  We  confess,  in  all  its 
breadth,  the  truth  that  God  made  the 
worlds.  But  the  mind  passes  instantly 
on  to  the  inquiry,  why,  and  wherefore 
did  He  make  them  ? 

And  if  you  take  the  truth  of  the  crea- 
tion of  the  universe  out  of  Jesus,  there 
is  nothing  but  vague  answer  to  give  to 
such  inquiry.  We  may  think  that  God's 
benevolence  craved  dependent  objects 
over  which  it  might  pour  its  solici- 
tudes. We  may  imagine  that  there  was 
such  desire  of  companionship,  even  in 
Deity,  that  it  pleased  not  the  Creator 
to  remain  longer  alone.  But  we  must 
not  forget,  that,  in  assigning  such  rea- 
sons, we  verge  to  the  error  of  suppos- 
ing a  void  in  the  happiness  of  God,  the 
filling-up  of  which  tasked  the  energies 
of  his  Almightiness.  In  answering  a 
question,  we  are  bound  to  take  heed 
that  we  originate  not  others  far  more 
difficult  of  solution. 

We  take  then  the  truth  of  the  crea- 
tion, "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and  we  will 
see  whether  it  assume  not  very  differ- 
entfeatures  from  those  worn  by  it,  as 
it  is  out  of  Jesus.  We  learn,  from  the 
testimony  of  St.  Paul,  that  "all  things 
were  created  by  Christ,  and  for  Christ." 
Col.  1  :  16.  We  would  fix  attention  to 
this  latter  fact,  "all  things  were  crea- 
ted for  Christ."  We  gather  from  this 
fact  that  the  gorgeous  structure  of  ma- 
terialism, spreading  interminably  above 
us  and  around  us,  is  nothing  more  than 
an  august  temple,  reared  for  consecra- 


tion to  the  Mediator's  glory.  "  All 
things  were  created  for  Christ."  You 
ask  me  why  God  spangled  the  firma- 
ment with  stars,  and  paved  with  worlds 
the  expansions  of  an  untravelled  im- 
mensity, and  poured  forth  the  rich  en- 
dowment of  life  on  countless  myriads 
of  multiform  creatures.  And  I  tell  you, 
that,  if  you  debar  me  from  acquaint- 
ance with  "God  manifest  in  the  flesh," 
1  Tim.  .3  :  16,  I  may  give  you  in  reply 
some  brilliant  guess,  or  dazzling  con- 
jecture, but  nothing  that  will  commend 
itself  to  thoughtful  and  well-disciplin- 
ed minds.  But  the  instant  that  I  am 
brought  into  contact  with  revelation, 
and  can  associate  creation  with  Christ, 
as  alike  its  author  and  object,  I  have 
an  answer  which  is  altogether  free  from 
the  vagueness  of  speculation.  I  can 
tell  you  that  the  star  twinkles  not  on 
the  measureless  expanse,  and  that  the 
creatures  move  not  on  any  one  of  those 
worlds  whose  number  outruns  our 
arithmetic,  which  hath  not  been  cre- 
ated for  the  manifestation  of  Christ's 
glory,  and  the  advancement  of  Christ's 
purposes.  We  may  not  be  able  to  de- 
fine, with  accuracy,  the  sublime  ends 
which  shall  yet  be  attained,  when  evil 
is  expelled  from  this  long-defiled  sec- 
tion of  the  universe.  We  know  only, 
that,  though  an  infidel  world  is  banish- 
ing Christ  from  its  councils,  and  the 
ranks  of  the  blasphemer  are  leaguing 
to  sweep  away  his  name,  and  the  scof- 
fers are  insolently  asking  "  where  is 
the  promise  of  his  coming;"  2  Peter, 
3:4;  he  shall  descend  with  the  cloud 
and  the  hurricane  as  his  heraldry,  and, 
circled  with  the  magnificent  sternness 
of  celestial  battle,  turn  the  theatre  of 
his  humiliation  into  the  theatre  of  his 
triumphs.  Then — when  "  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect,"  Heb.  12  :  23, 
shall  have  entered  into  the  raised  and 
glorified  bodies  ;  and  Avhcn  the  splen- 
did and  rejoicing  multitude  shall  Vv'alk 
forth  on  the  new  earth,  and  be  cano- 
pied with  the  new  heavens — Christ 
shall  emphatically  "see  of  the  travail 
of  his  soul;"  Isa.  53  :  11;  and  then, 
from  every  field  of  immensity,  crowded 
with  admiring  spectators,  shall  there 
roll  in  the  ecstatic  acknowledgment, 
"  worthy,  worthy,  worthy  is  the  Lamb." 
But,  without  descending  to  particulars, 
we_may  assert  it  unequivocally  proved 
by   sundry   declarations   of  the   Bible, 


TRUTH    AS    IT   IS    IN   JESUS. 


121 


that  suns,  and  planets,  and  angels,  and 
men,  the  material  creation  with  its 
walls,  and  domes,  and  columns,  and 
the  immaterial  with  its  train  upon  train 
of  lofty  spirits — all  these  constitute  one 
vast  apparatus  for  efTecting  a  mighty- 
enthronement  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 
And  if  you  recur  to  the  work  of  con- 
trast in  which  we  are  engaged  ;  if  you 
compare  the  truth  of  creation  as  it  is 
out  of  Jesus  with  that  same  truth  as  it 
is  in  Jesus  ;  then,  when  you  observe 
that,  in  the  one  case,  the  mind  has  no- 
thing o?  a  resting-place — that  it  can 
only  wander  over  the  fields  which  God 
hath  strewed  with  his  wonders,  con- 
founded by  the  lustre  without  divining 
the  intention — whereas,  iu  the  other, 
each  star,  each  system,  each  human, 
each  celestial  being,  fills  some  place  in 
a  mechanism  which  is  working  out  the 
noble  result  of  the  coronation  of  Christ 
as  Lord  of  all ;  why,  we  feel  that  the 
assent  of  every  one  in  this  assembly 
must  be  won  to  the  position,  that  old 
truth  becomes  weUnigh  new  truth  by 
being  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 

But  we  Avish  to  set  before  you  yet 
simpler  illustrations  of  the  matter  which 
we  are  engaged  in  demonstrating.  The 
point  we  have  in  hand  is  the  showing 
that  truths,  which  refer  to  God's  char- 
acter, must  be  viewed  in  connection 
with  Jesus,  in  order  to  their  being 
rightly  understood,  or  justly  appreci- 
ated. We  have  endeavored  to  substan- 
tiate this,  so  far  as  the  nature  and  works 
of  the  Almighty  are  concerned.  Let 
us  turn,  however,  for  a  few  moments, 
to  his  attributes,  and  we  shall  find  our 
position  greatly  corroborated. 

We  take,  for  example,  the  justice  of 
God.  We  might  obtain,  independently 
on  the  scheme  of  redemption,  a  defi- 
nite and  firm-built  persuasion,  that  God 
is  a  just  God,  taking  cognizance  of  the 
transgressions  of  his  creatures.  We  do 
rot,  then,  so  refer  to  the  sacrifice  of 
Christ  for  proof  of  God's  justice,  as 
though  no  proof  could  be  elsewhere 
obtained.  The  God  of  natural  religion 
must  be  a  God  to  whom  sundry  perfec- 
tions are  ascribed  ;  and  amongst  such 
perfections  justice  will  find,  necessari- 
ly, a  place.  But  we  argue  that  the  de- 
monstration of  theory  will  never  com- 
mend itself  to  men's  minds  like  the  de- 
monstration of  practice.  There  might 
have  come  to  us  a  revelation  from  hea- 


ven, ushered  in  with  incontrovertible 
witness ;  and  this  revelation  might  have 
stated,  in  language  the  boldest  and 
most  unqualified,  that  God's  justice 
could  overlook  no  iota  of  ofljence,  and 
dispense  with  no  tittle  of  punishment. 
But,  had  we  been  left  without  a  vivid 
exhibition  of  the  workings  of  this  jus- 
tice, we  should  perpetually  have  soft- 
ened down  the  statements  of  the  word, 
and  argued  that,  in  all  probability,  far 
more  was  said  than  ever  would  be  done. 
We  should  have  reasoned  up  from  hu- 
man enactments  to  divine  ;  and,  finding 
that  the  former  are  oftentimes  far  lar- 
ger in  the  threatening  than  in  the  ex- 
action, have  concluded  that  the  latter 
might,  at  last,  exhibit  the  like  ine- 
quality. 

Now  if  we  would  deliver  the  truth 
of  God's  justice  from  these  misappre- 
hensions, whether  wilful  or  accidental, 
what  process,  we  ask  of  you,  lies  at 
our  disposal  I  It  is  quite  useless  to 
try  abstract  reasoning.  The  mind  can 
evade  it,  and  the  heart  has  no  concern 
with  it.  It  will  avail  nothing  to  insist 
on  the  literal  force  of  expressions.  The 
whole  mischief  lies  in  the  questioning 
the  thorough  putting  into  effect;  in  the 
doubting  whether  what  is  denounced 
shall  be  point  by  point  inflicted.  What 
then  shall  we  do  with  this  truth  of 
God's  justice  1  We  reply,  we  must 
make  it  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  We 
send  a  man  at  once  to  the  cross  of 
Christ.  We  bid  him  gaze  on  the  illus- 
trious and  mysterious  victim,  stooping 
beneath  the  amazing  burden  of  human 
transgression.  We  ask  him  whether  he 
think  there  was  remission  of  penalty 
on  behalf  of  Him,  who,  though  clothed 
in  humanity,  was  one  with  Deity;  or 
that  the  vials  of  wrath  were  spoiled  of 
any  of  their  scalding  drops,  ere  empti- 
ed on  the  surety  of  our  alienated  tribes  1 
We  ask  him  whether  the  agonies  of  the 
garden,  and  the  terrors  of  the  cruci- 
fixion, furnish  not  a  sufficient  and 
thrilling  demonstration,  that  God's  jus- 
tice, when  it  takes  in  hand  the  exac- 
tion of  punishment,  does  the  work  thor- 
oughly ;  so  that  no  bolt  is  too  ponder- 
ous to  be  driven  into  the  soul,  no  of- 
fence too  minute  to  be  set  down  in  the 
reckoning  1  And  if,  when  the  sword  of 
justice  awoke  against  the  fellow  of  the 
Almighty,  it  returned  not  to  the  scab- 
bard till' bathed  in  the  anguish  of  the 
16 


122 


TRUTH   AS   IT   IS   IN    JESUS. 


sufferer  ;  and  if  God's  hatred  of  sin  be 
so  intense  and  overwhelming  a  thing, 
that,  ere  transgressors  could  be  receiv- 
ed into  favor,  the  Eternal  Son  inter- 
posed and  humbled  himself  so  that  an- 
gels drew  back  confounded,  and  en- 
dured vicariously  such  extremity  of 
wretchedness  that  the  earth  reeled  at 
the  spectacle,  and  the  heavens  were 
darkened;  why,  shall  there,  or  can 
there,  be  harborage  of  the  deceitful 
expectation,  that  if  any  one  of  us,  the 
sons  of  the  apostate,  rush  on  the  bosses 
of  the  buckler  of  the  Lord,  and  make 
trial  for  himself  of  the  justice  of  the 
Almighty,  he  shall  not  find  that  justice 
as  strict  in  its  works  as  it  is  stern  in 
its  words,  prepared  to  deal  out  to  him, 
unsparingly  and  unflinchingly,  the  fiery 
portion  whose  threatenings  glare  from 
the  pages  of  Scripture  ?  So  then  we 
may  count  it  legitimate  to  maintain, 
that  the  truth  of  God  being  a  just  God 
is  appreciated  truth,  and  elTective  truth, 
only  in  the  degree  that  it  is  truth  '^  as 
it  is  in  Jesus:"  and  we  add,  conse- 
quently, new  witness  to  the  fact,  that 
the  definition  of  our  text  describes 
truth  accurately  under  its  influential 
and  life-giving  forms. 

We  may  pursue  much  the  same  line 
of  argument  in  reference  to  the  truth 
of  the  love  of  God.  We  may  confess, 
that  he  who  looks  not  at  this  attribute 
through  the  person  and  work  of  the 
Mediator,  may  obtain  ideas  of  it  which 
shall,  in  certain  respects,  be  correct. 
And  yet,  after  all,  it  would  be  hard  to 
prove  satisfactorily,  by  natural  theolo- 
gy, that  "  God  is  love."  John,  4-  :  8. 
There  may  be  a  kind  of  poetical,  or 
Arcadian  divinity,  drawn  from  the 
brightness  of  sunshine,  and  the  rich 
enamel  of  flowers,  and  the  deep  dark 
blue  of  a  sleeping  lake.  And,  taking 
the  glowing  landscape  as  their  page  of 
theology,  men  may  sketch  to  them- 
selves God  unlimited  in  his  benevo- 
lence. But  when  the  sunshine  is  suc- 
ceeded by  the  darkness,  and  the  flowers 
are  withered,  and  the  waters  Vv'rought 
into  madness,  can  they  find  in  the  wrath 
and  devastation  that  assurance  of  God's 
love  which  they  derived,  unhesitating- 
ly, from  the  calm  and  the  beauty  1  The 
matter  of  fact  we  hold  to  be,  that  Na- 
tural Theology,  at  the  best,  is  a  system 
of  uncertainties,  a  balancing  of  oppo- 
sites.    I  should  draw  diflcrent  conclu- 


sions from  the  genial  breathings  of  one 
day,  and  the  desolating  simoom  of  the 
next.  And  though  when  I  had  thrown 
me  down  on  an  alpine  summit,  and  look- 
ed forth  on  the  clusterings  of  the  grand 
and  the  lovely,  canopied  with  an  azure 
that  was  full  of  glory  ;  a  hope,  that  my 
Creator  loved  me,  might  have  been  ga- 
thered from  scenery  teeming  with  im- 
presses of  kindness,  and  apparently 
sending  out  from  waving  forests,  and 
gushing  fountains,  and  smiling  villages, 
the  anthem  of  an  acknowledgment  that 
God  is  infinitely  beneficent  ;  yet  if,  on 
a  sudden,  there  passed  around  mc  the 
rustlings  of  the  hurricane,  and  there 
came  up  from  the  valleys  the  shrieks 
of  an  afTrighted  peasantry,  and  the 
torrents  went  down  in  their  strength, 
sweeping  away  the  labor  of  man's  hands, 
and  the  corn  and  the  wood  which  had 
crowned  the  fields  as  a  diadem  ;  oh, 
the  confidence  which  had  been  given 
me  by  an  exhibition  which  appeared 
eloquent  of  the  benevolence  of  God- 
head, would  yield  to  horror  and  trepi- 
dation, Avhilst  the  Eternal  One  seemed 
walking  before  me,  the  tempest  his 
voice,  and  the  lightning  his  glance,  and 
a  fierce  devastation  in  his  every  foot- 
print. 

But  even  allowing  the  idea  gained, 
that  '*  God  is  love,"  there  is  no  proper- 
ty of  the  Creator  concerning  which  it 
is  easier  to  fall  into  mistake.  We  have 
no  standard  by  which  to  estimate  di- 
vine aflections,  unless  one  which  we 
fashion  out  of  the  results  of  the  work- 
ings of  human.  And  we  know  well 
enough,  that,  amongst  ourselves,  an  in- 
tense and  overweening  attachment  is 
almost  sure  to  blind  man  to  the  faults 
of  its  object,  or  to  cause,  at  the  least, 
that  when  the  faults  are  discerned,  due 
blame  is  withheld.  So  that,  whilst  we 
have  not  before  us  a  distinct  exhibition 
of  God's  love,  Ave  may  fall  naturally 
into  the  error  of  ascribing  an  efTemi- 
nate  tenderness  to  the  Almighty,  and 
reckon,  exactly  in  proportion  as  we 
judge  the  love  amazing,  that  it  will 
never  permit  our  being  given  over  to 
torment.  Hence,  admitting  it  to  bo 
truth,  yea,  most  glorious  and  blessed 
truth,  that  the  creature  is  loved  by 
the  Creator,  this  truth  must  be  viewed 
through  a  rectil'ying  medium,  which 
shall  correct  the  distortions  which  a 
depraved  nature  produces. 


TKUTH   AS    IT    IS    IN   JESUS. 


123 


Now   we    maintain  again   that   this 
rectifying  medium  must  be  the  person 
and  work  of  the  Savior.  In  other  words, 
we  must  make  the  truth  of  God's  love, 
truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and  then,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  we  shall  know 
how  ample  is  the  love,  and  be  guarded 
against  abusing  it.  When  we  observe 
that  God  loved  us  so  well  as  to  give  his 
Son  to  death  for  us,  we  perceive  that 
the   immenseness  of  this    love    leaves 
imagination  far  behind  in  her  least-fet- 
tered soarings.    But  when  we  also  ob- 
serve that  love,  so  unheard  of,   could 
not  advance  straight  to  the  rescue  of 
its  objects,  but  must  wait,  ere  it  could 
breathe  words  of  forgiveness   to    the 
fallen,  the  outworkings  of  a  task  of  ig- 
nominy and  blood  j  there  must  vanish, 
at  once,  the  idle  expectancy  of  a  ten- 
derness not  proof  against  the  cry  of 
despair,  and  Ave  must  learn  (unless  we 
wilfully  close  the  mind  against  convic- 
tion) that  the  love  of  a  holy,  and  righ- 
teous,   and   immutable    Being    is    that 
amazing  principle,  which  can   stir  the 
universe  in  our  behalf  during  the  sea- 
son of  grace,  and  yet,  as  soon  as  that 
season  have  terminated,  resign  us  un- 
hesitatingly to    the    ministry   of  ven- 
geance.   Thus,  take  the  truth  of  God's 
love  out  of  Jesus,  and  you  will  dress 
up  a  weak  and  womanish  sympathy, 
which  cannot  permit  the  punishment  of 
the  disobedient.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
take  this  truth  "as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  and 
you  have  the  love  immeasurable  in  its 
stature,  but  uncompromising  in  its  pe- 
nalties ;  eager  to  deliver  the  meanest 
who  repents,  yet  nerved  to  abandon  the 
thousands  who  die   hardened ;   threat- 
ening, therefore,  the   obdurate  in  the 
very  degree  that  it  encourages  the  pe- 
nitent:  and   when   you   thus    contrast 
truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  with  truth  as 
it  is  out  of  Jesus,  you  will  more  and 
more  recognize   the    power    and    the 
worth  of  the  expression,  that  the  Ephe- 
sians  had  been  taught  "  as  the  truth  is 
in  Jesus." 

We  might  employ  this  kind  of  illus- 
tration in  regard  to  other  attributes  of 
God.  We  might  show  you  that  cor- 
rect and  practical  views  of  the  truths 
of  God's  faithfulness,  God's  holiness, 
God's  wisdom,  are  only  to  be  derived 
from  the  work  of  redemption  ;  and  this 
would  be  showing  you  that  truth  must 
be  truth    "  as   it  is   iu  Jesus,"    if  we 


I  would  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  cha- 
racter of  God.  But  we  wave  the  fur- 
ther prosecution  of  our  first  head  of 
discourse,  and  ask  attention  to  a  few 
remarks  which  have  to  do  with  the  se- 
cond. 

We  divided  truth  into  two  great  de- 
partments; truth  which  relates  to  the 
character  of  God,  truth  which  relates 
to  the  condition  of  man.     We  proceed, 
therefore,  to  affirm,  in  reference  to  the 
condition  of  man,  that  truth,  if  rightly 
understood,  or   thoroughly  influential, 
must  be  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus."     We 
find  it  admitted,  for  example,  in  most 
quarters,  that   man   is   a    fallen  being, 
with  faculties  weakened,  if  not  wholly 
incapacitated   for  moral   achievement. 
Yet  this  general  admission  is  one  of  the 
most  heartless,  and  unmeaning  things 
in  the  world.    It  consists  with  the  har- 
boring pride  and  conceit.    It  tolerates 
many  forms  and  actings  of  self-righte- 
ousness.    And   the    matter-of-fact    is, 
that  man's  moral  disability  is  not  to  be 
described,  and  not  understood  theore- 
tically.   We  want  some  bold,  definite, 
and  tangible    measurements.     But    we 
shall    find   these  only   in  the  work   of 
Christ  Jesus.     I   learn    the    depth   to 
which  I  have  sunk,  from  the  length  of 
the  chain  let  down  to   updraw  me.    I 
ascertain  the  mightiness  of  the  ruin  by 
examining   the   machinery  of  restora- 
tion.   I  gather  that  I  must  be,  in  the 
broadest   sense,  unable   to  eflect  deli- 
verance for  myself,  from  observing  that 
none  less  than  the  Son  of  the  Highest 
had  strength  enough  to  fight  the  bat- 
tles of  our  race.   Thus  the  truth  of  hu- 
man apostacy,  of  human  corruption,  of 
human  helplessness — how  shall  this  be 
understood    truth   and    eflective  {   We 
answer,    simply    through    being    truth 
"as  it  is  in  Jesus."    In  the  history  of 
the    Incarnation    and    Crucifixion    we 
read,  in  characters  not  to  be  misinter- 
preted, the   announcements,  that  man 
has  destroyed  himself,  and  that,  what- 
ever his  original  powers,  he  is  now  void 
of  ability    to   turn  unto   God,    and  do 
things  well-pleasing  in  his  sight.    You 
do  not,  indeed,   alter  these  truths,  if 
you  destroy  all  knowledge  of  the  In- 
carnation and  Crucifixion.  But  you  re- 
move their  massive  and  resistless  ex- 
hibition, and  leave  us  to  our  own  vague 
and  partial  computations.  We  have  no- 
thing practical  to  which  to  appeal,  no- 


124 


TRUTH    AS    IT    IS   IN    JESL'S. 


thing  fixed  by  which  always  to  estimate. 
Thus,  in  spite  of  a  seeming  recognition 
of  truth,  we  shall  be  turned  adrift  on  a 
wide  sea  of  ignorance  and  self-sufficien- 
cy ;  and  all  because  truth  may  be  to  us 
truth  as  it  is  in  moral  philosophy,  truth 
as  it  is  in  well-arranged  ethics,  truth 
as  it  is  in  lucid  and  incontrovertible 
statements;  and  yet  prove  nothing  but 
despised,  and  ill-understood,  and  pow- 
erless truth,  as  not  being  to  us  truth 
"  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 

We  add  that  the  law  of  God,  which 
has  been  given  for  the  regulation  of  our 
conduct,  is  a  wonderful  compendium 
of  truth.  There  is  not  a  single  working 
of  wickedness,  though  it  be  the  light- 
est and  most  secret,  which  escapes  the 
denouncements  of  this  law  ;  so  that 
the  statute-book  proves  itself  truth  by 
delineating,  with  an  unvarying  accura- 
cy, the  whole  service  of  the  father  of 
lies.  But  who  knows  any  thing  of  this 
truth,  unless  acquainted  with  the  law 
as  expounded  and  fulfilled  bj^  Christ  1 
Christ  in  his  discourses  expanded  every 
precept,  and  in  his  obedience  exhibited 
every  demand.  He,  therefore,  who 
Avould  know  the  truth  which  there  is 
in  the  law,  must  know  this  truth  "  as 
it  is  in  Jesus."  He  moreover,  who 
would  not  be  appalled  by  this  truth, 
must  view  it  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus."  Know- 
ledge of  the  law  would  crush  a  man,  if 
unaccompanied  by  the  consciousness 
that  Christ  obeyed  the  law  in  his  stead. 
So  that  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  this 
is  knowledge,  and  this  is  comfort.  And 
finally — for  we  must  hurry  over  ground 
where  there  is  much  which  might  tempt 
us  to  linger — look  at  the  context  of  the 
words  under  review,  and  you  will  find 
that  truth  "  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  differs 
from  that  truth  as  it  is  out  of  Jesus, 
in  being  a  sanctifying  thing.  The 
Ephesians  were  "  taught  as  the  truth 
is  in  Jesus,"  to  "  put  off,  concerning 
the  former  conversation,  the  old  man, 
which  is  corrupt  according  to  the  de- 
ceitful lusts."  Hence — and  this  after 
all  is  the  grand  distinction — truth,  "  as 
it  is  in  Jesus,"  is  a  thing  of  the  heart ; 
whereas  truth,  as  it  is  out  of  Jesus,  is 
a  thing  of  the  head.  Dear  Brethren,  ye 
cannot  be  too  often  told  that  without 
holiness  "  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." 
Hebrews,  12,  :  14<.  If  no  vigorous  pro- 
cess of  sanctification  be  going  on  with- 
in, we  are  destitute  of  the  organs  by 


which  to  read  truth  in  the  holy  child 
Jesus.  Or,  rather,  we  are  ignorant  of 
the  characters  in  which  truth  is  graven 
on  the  Savior  :  and  therefore,  though 
we  may  read  it  in  books  and  manu- 
scripts, on  the  glorious  scroll  of  the 
heavens,  and  in  the  beautiful  tracery 
of  forest  and  mountain,  we  can  never 
peruse  it  as  written  in  the  person  and 
work  of  God's  only  and  well-beloved 
Son.  The  mortification  of  the  flesh — 
the  keeping  under  the  body — the  pluck- 
ing out  the  offending  right  eye — the 
cutting  off  the  offending  right  hand — 
these,  so  to  speak,  are  the  processes  of 
tuition  by  which  men  are  taught  "  as 
the  truth  is  in  Jesus."  Sanctification 
conducts  to  knowledge,  and  then  know- 
ledge speeds  the  work  of  sanctification. 

We  beseech  you,  therefore,  that  ye 
strive,  through  God's  grace,  to  give 
yourselves  to  the  business  of  putting 
ofl^the  old  man.  Will  ye  aflirm  that  ye 
believe  there  is  a  heaven,  and  yet  act 
as  though  persuaded  that  it  is  not  worth 
striving  fori  Believe,  only  believe, 
that  a  day  of  coronation  is  yet  to  break 
on  this  long-darkened  globe,  and  the 
sinews  will  be  strung,  like  those  of  the 
wrestlers  of  old,  who  saw  the  garlands 
in  the  judges  hands,  and  locked  them- 
selves in  an  iron  embrace.  Strive — for 
the  grasp  of  a  destroyer  is  upon  you, 
and  if  ye  be  not  wrenched  away,  it  will 
palsy  you,  and  crush  you.  Strive — for 
the  foe  is  on  the  right  hand,  on  the  left 
hand,  before  you,  behind  you  ;  and  ye 
must  be  trampled  under  foot,  if  ye 
struggle  not,  and  strike  not,  as  those 
who  feel  themselves  bound  in  a  death- 
grapple.  Strive — there  is  a  crown  to 
be  won — the  mines  of  the  earth  have 
not  furnished  its  metal,  and  the  depths 
of  the  sea  hide  nothing  so  radiant  as 
the  jewels  with  which  it  is  wreathed. 
Strive — for  if  ye  gain  not  this  crown 
— Alas  !  alas  !  ye  must  have  the  scor- 
pions for  ever  round  the  forehead,  and 
the  circles  of  that  flame  which  is  fan- 
ned by  the  breath  of  the  Almighty's 
displeasure. 

Strive  then,  but  strive  in  the  strength 
of  your  risen  Lord,  and  not  in  your  own. 
Ye  know  not  how  soon  that  Lord  may 
come.  Whilst  the  sun  walks  his  usual 
path  on  the  firmament,  and  the  grass 
is  springing  in  our  fields,  and  mer- 
chants are  crowding  the  exchange,  and 
politicians  jostling  for  place,  and  the 


THE    DIFFICULTieS    OF    SCRIPTURE. 


125 


voluptuous  killing  time,  and  the  avari- 
cious counting  gold?  "  the  sign  of  the 
Son  of  Man,"  Matthew,  24  :  30,  shall 
be  seen  in  the  heavens,  and  the  august 
throne  of  fire  and  of  cloud  be  piled  for 
judgment.  Be  ye  then  persuaded.  If 
not  persuaded,  be  ye  alarmed.  There  is 
truth  in  Jesus  which  is  terrible,  as  well 


as  truth  which  is  soothing  :  terrible,  for 
he  shall  be  Judge  as  well  as  Savior  ; 
and  ye  cannot  face  Him,  ye  cannot 
stand  before  Him,  unless  ye  now  give 
ear  to  His  invitation,  "  Come  unto  me, 
all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden 
and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Matthew, 
11:  28. 


SERMON   XII. 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 


"  In  which  are  some  things  hard  to  be  understood,  which  they  that  are  unlearned  and  unstable 
wrest,  as  they  do  also  the  other  Scriptures,  unto  their  own  destruction." — 2  Peter,  3  :  16. 


The  writings  of  St.  Paul,  occupying, 
as  they  do,  a  large  portion  of  the  New 
Testament,  treat  much  of  the  sublimer 
and  more  difficult  articles  of  Christiani- 
ty. It  is  undeniable  that  there  is  a  great 
deal  made  known  to  us  by  the  Epistles, 
which  could  only  imperfectly,  if  at  all, 
be  derived  from  the  Gospels.  We  have 
the  testimony  of  Christ  himself  that  he 
had  many  things  to  say  to  his  disciples, 
which,  whilst  he  yet  ministered  on 
earth,  they  were  not  prepared  to  re- 
ceive. Hence  it  was  altogether  to  be 
expected  that  the  New  Testament  would 
be,  what  we  find  it,  a  progressive  book  ; 
the  communications  of  intelligence 
growing  with  the  fuller  opening  out  of 
the  dispensation.  The  deep  things  of 
the  sovereignty  of  God;  the  mode  of 
the  justification  of  sinners,  and  its  per- 
fect consistence  with  all  the  attributes 
of  the  Creator ;  the  mysteries  bound 
up  in  the  rejection  of  the  Jew  and  the 
calling  of  the  Gentile  ;  these  enter 
largely  into  the  Epistles  of  St,  Paul, 
though  only  faintly  intimated  by  wri- 
ters who  precede  him  in  the  canon  of 
Scripture.  And  it  is  a  natural  and  un- 
avoidable consequence  on  the  greater 
ftbstruseness  of  the  topics  whCch  are 


handled,  that  the  apostle's  writings 
should  present  greater  difficulties  to 
the  Biblical  student.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Book  of  Revelation,  which, 
as  dealing  Avith  the  future,  is  necessa- 
rily hard  to  be  interpreted,  the  Epistle 
to  the  Romans  is  probably  that  part  of 
the  New  Testament  which  most  de- 
mands the  labors  of  the  commentator. 
And  though  we  select  this  epistle  as 
pre-eminent  in  difficulties,  we  may  say 
generally  of  the  writings  of  St.  Paul, 
that,  whilst  they  present  simple  and 
beautiful  truths  which  all  may  under- 
stand, they  contain  statements  of  doc- 
trine, which,  even  after  long  study  and 
prayer,  will  be  but  partially  unfolded 
by  the  most  gifted  inquirers.  With  this 
admission  of  difficulty  we  must  join  the 
likelihood  of  misconception  and  misap- 
plication. Where  there  is  confessedly 
obscurity,  Ave  may  naturally  expect 
that  wrong  theories  will  be  formed,  and 
erroneous  inferences  deduced.  If  it  be 
hard  to  determine  the  true  meaning  of 
a  passage,  it  can  scarcely  fail  that  some 
false  interpretation  will  be  advanced, 
or  espoused,  by  the  partisans  of  theo- 
logical systems.  If  a  man  h  ve  error  to 
maintain,  he  will  turn  for  support  to 


126 


THE   DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTtTRE. 


passages  of  Scripture,   of  which,   the 
real  sense  being  doubtful,  a  plausible 
may  be   advanced   on  the  side  of  his 
falsehood.   If,  again,  an  individual  wish 
to  persuade  himself  to  believe  tenets 
which  encourage  him  in  presumption 
and  unholiness,  he  may  easily  fasten  on 
separate  verses,  which,  taken  by  them- 
selves,  and   without  concern    for    the 
analogy   of   faith,    seem   to   mark    out 
privileges  superseding  the  necessity  of 
striving   against   sin.    So  that  we  can 
find  no  cause  of  surprise  in  the  fact, 
that  St.  Peter  should  speak  of  the  Epis- 
tles of  St.  Paul  as  wrested  by  the  "  un- 
learned and  unstable"  to  their  own  de- 
struction.    He    admits   that    in   these 
Epistles  "  are  some  things  hard  to  be 
understood."     And  we  consider  it,  as 
we  have  just  explained,   a   necessary 
consequence    on   the    difficulties,   that 
there   should   be  perversions,  whether 
wilful  or  unintentional,  of  the  writings. 
But  you  will  observe,  that,  whilst  St. 
Peter  confesses  both  the  difficulty  and 
the  attendant  danger,  he  gives  not  the 
slightest  intimation  that  the    Epistles 
of  St.  Paul   were  imsuited  to  general 
perusal.    The  Roman   Catholic,  when 
supporting   that    tenet   of   his    church 
which  shuts  up  the  Bible  from  the  lai- 
ty, Avill  appeal  confidently  to  this  state- 
ment of  St.  Peter,  arguing  that  the  al- 
lowed difficulty,  and  the  declared  dan- 
ger, give  the  Apostle's  authority  to  the 
measure  of  exclusion.    But  certainly  it 
were  not  easy  to  find  a  more   strained 
and  far-fetched  defence.    Had  St.  Peter 
intended  to  infei*,  that,  because  obscu- 
rity and  abuse  existed,  there  ought  to 
be  prohibition,  it   is  altogether  unac- 
countable that  he  did  not  lay  down  the 
inference.    A  fairer  opportunity  could 
never  be  presented  for  the  announce- 
ment of  such  a  rule  as  the  Roman  Ca- 
tholic advocates.    And  the  mere  find- 
ing.,   that,    when    an    inspired    Avriter 
speaks  of  the  dangers  of  perusal,  he 
gives  not  even  a  hint  which  can  be  tor- 
tured into  sanction  of  its  prohibition, 
is,  in  itself,  so  overpowering  a  witness 
to  the  right  of  all  men  to  read  the  Bi- 
ble for  themselves,  that  we  wonder  at 
the  infatuation  of  those  who  can  ap- 
peal  to  the  passage  as   supporting   a 
counter-opinion.    You  will  observe  that 
whilst  St.  Peter  speaks  only  of  the  wri- 
ting's of  St.  Paul  as  presenting  "  things 
hfvvd  to  be  understood,"  he  extends  to 


{ the  whole  Bible  the  wresting  of  the  un- 
I  learned  and  unstable.     So  that,  when 
I  there   is  wanting   that  chastened,  and 
[  teachable,    and    prayerful    disposition, 
which  should  always  be  brought  to  the 
study  of  Scripture,    the    plainest  pas- 
sages and  the  most   obscure   may  be 
equally  abused.    After  all,  it  is  not  so 
much  the   difficulty  which  makes  the 
danger,  as  the  temper  in  which  the  Bi- 
ble is  perused.   And  if  St.  Peter's  state- 
ment prove  any  thing,  it  proves  that 
selections  from  Holy  Writ,  such  as  the 
papist   will   allow,   are   to   the   full    as 
fraught  with   peril  as  the  unmutilated 
volume;  and  that,  therefore,  unless  a 
man  is  to  read  all,  he  ought  not  to  read 
a  line.    We  cannot  but  admire  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  apostle  has  expressed 
himself.    If  he  had  specified  difficulties; 
if  he  had  stated  that  it  was  upon  such 
or  such  points  that  St.  Paul's  Epistles, 
or  the  Scriptures  in  general,  were   ob- 
scure ;  those  who  are  disposed  to  give 
part,  and  to  keep  back  part,  might  have 
had  a  ground  for  their  decision,  and  a 
rule  for  their  selection.     But  since  we 
have   nothing    but    a  round    assertion 
that  all  the  Scriptures  may  be,  and  are, 
wrested  by  the  unlearned  and  unstable, 
there  is  left  us  no  right  of  determining 
what  is  fit  for  perusal  and  what  is  not 
fit ;  so  that,  in  allowing  a  solitary  verse 
to  be  read,  Vv'e  run  the  same  risk  as  in 
allowing  every  chapter  from  the  first  to 
the  last.    Thus  we  hold  it  clear  to  eve- 
ry candid  inquirer,  that  our  text  sim- 
ply proves  the  necessity  of  a  right  tem- 
per to  the  profitable  perusal  of  the  Bi- 
ble.   It  gives  no  such  exclusive  charac- 
teristic to  the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  as 
would  warrant  our  pronouncing  them 
peculiarly  unsuited  to  the  weak  and  il- 
literate.    If  it   sanction  the  withdraw- 
ment   of  any  part   of  the  Bible,  it  im- 
peratively demands  the  withdrawment 
of  the  whole.    And  forasmuch  as  it  thus 
gives  not  the   shadow  of  authority  to 
the  selection  of  one  part  and  the  omis- 
sion of  another  ;  and  forasmuch,  more- 
over,  as  it  contains  not  the  remotest 
hint  that  danger  is  a  reason  for  shut- 
ting up  the  Scriptures  ;  we  rather  learn 
from  the  passage,  that  free  as  the  air 
should   be  the  Bible  to  the  whole  hu- 
man population,  than  that  a  priesthood, 
sitting  in  assize  on  itscontents,  may  dole 
out  fragments  of  the  word,  or  keep  it,  if 
they  please,  undividedly  to  themselves. 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTTJRE. 


127 


We  are  not,  however,  required,  in  j 
addressing  a  protestant  assembly,  to 
expose,  at  any  length,  the  falsehood  of 
that  doctrine  of  popery  to  which  we 
have  referred.  We  introduced  its  men- 
tion, simply  because  its  advocates  en- 
deavor to  uphold  it  by  our  text.  They 
just  give  a  new  witness  to  the  truth  of 
the  text.  They  show,  that,  like  the 
rest  of  the  Scriptures,  this  verse  may 
be  perverted.  The  very  passage  which 
declares  that  all  Scripture  may  be 
wrested,  has  itself  been  wrested  to 
the  worst  and  most  pernicious  of  pur- 
poses. So  that,  as  if  in  verification 
of  the  statement  of  St.  Peter,  when 
that  statement  became  part  of  the 
Bible,  it  was  seized  upon  by  the  "  un- 
learned and  unstable,"  and  wrenched 
from  its  original  bearings. 

But   we   desire,   on  the  present  oc- 
casion, to  bring  before  you   what  we 
count    important   considerations,   sug- 
gested by  the  announcement  that  there 
are  difficulties  in  Scripture.    We  have 
the  decision  of  an  inspired  writer,  that 
in    the    volume    of    inspiration    there 
"are   some  things   hard  to   be  under- 
stood."   W^e   lay   great    stress   on   the 
fact,  that   it  is  an  inspired   writer  M'ho 
gives  this  decision.     The  Bible  attests 
the    difficulties    of    the    Bible.    If   we 
knew  the  Bible  to  be  difficult,  only  as  I 
finding  it  difficult,  we  migiit  be   incli-  | 
ned  to  suppose  it  luminous  to  others,  j 
though     obscure     to    ourselves.      We  i 
should  not   so   thoroughly  understand  ; 
that    the    difficulties,   which    one    man  I 
meets  with  in  the  study  of  Scripture,  i 
are  not  simply  produced  by  his  intel-  , 
lectual  inferiority  to  another — no,  nor  ! 
by  his  moral  or  spiritual  inferiority —  ', 
but  are,  in  a  great  degree,  inherent  in  ! 
the  subject  examined,  so  that  no  equip-  j 
ment  of  learning  and  prayer  will  alto-  i 
gether  secure  their  removal.    The  as-  ! 
sertion  of  our  text  may  be  called   an  I 
unqualified  assertion.    The  proof,  that  j 
there  are  "  things  hard  to   be  under- 
stood," does  not   lie   in  the   fact,  that  I 
these  things  are  wrested   by  "  the  un- 
learned   and    unstable  :"  for    then,   by  j 
parity  of  reason,  we  should  make  St. 
Peter    declare     that    all    Scripture    is 
"  hard  to  be  understood."     The   asser- 
tion is   independent  on  what   follows, 
and  shows  the  existence  of  difficulties, 
whether  or  no  they  gave  occasion  to 
perversions  of  the  Bible.    And  though 


it  is  of  the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  and  of 
these  alone,  that  the  assertion  is  made, 
Ave  may  infer  naturally,  from  the  re- 
mainder of  the  passage,  that  the  apos- 
tle intended  to  imply  that  difficulties 
are  scattered  through  the  whole  of  the 
Scriptures,  so  that  it  is  a  general  char- 
acteristic of  the  Bible,  that  there  are 
in  it  '^  some  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood." 

Now  it  is  upon  this  characteristic — 
a  characteristic,  you  observe,  not  ima- 
gined by  ourselves,  because  often  un- 
able to  bring  out  all  the  force  of  a  pas- 
sage, but  fastened  on  the  Scriptures  by 
the  Scriptures  themselves — that  we  de- 
sire to  turn  your  attention.  We  have  be- 
fore us  a  feature  of  revelation,  drawn  by 
revelation  itself,  and  not  sketched  by 
human  surmise  or  discovery.  And  it 
seems  to  us  that  this  feature  deserves 
our  very  closest  examination,  and  that 
from  such  examination  we  may  look 
to  derive  lessons  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary worth.  We  take  into  our  hands 
the  Bible,  and  receive  it  as  a  commu- 
nication of  God's  will,  made,  in  past 
ages,  to  his  creatures.  And  we  know 
that,  occupying,  as  all  men  do,  the 
same  level  of  helplessness  and  destitu- 
tion, so  that  the  adventitious  circum- 
stances of  rank  and  education  bring 
with  them  no  difl'erences  in  moral 
position,  it  cannot  be  the  design  of 
the  Almighty,  that  superior  talent,  or 
superior  learning,  should  be  essential 
to  the  obtaining  due  acquaintance  with 
revelation.  There  can  be  no  fairer 
expectation  than  that  the  Bible  will  be 
intelligible  to  every  capacity,  and  that 
it  will  not,  either  in  matter  or  man- 
ner, adapt  itself  to  one  class  in  pre- 
ference to  another.  And  v^'hen,  with 
all  this  antecedent  idea  that  revela- 
tion will  condescend  to  the  very 
meanest  understanding,  v/e  find,  as  it 
were  on  the  covers  of  the  book,  the 
description  that  there  are  in  it  "  things 
hard  to  be  understood,"  we  may,  at 
first,  feel  something  of  surprise  that 
difficult\'^  should  occur  where  we  had 
looked  for  simplicity.  And  undoubt- 
edly, however  fair  tlie  expectation  just 
mentioned,  the  Bible  is,  in  some  sen- 
ses, a  harder  book  for  the  uneducated 
man  than  for  the  educated.  So  far  as 
human  instrumentality  is  concerned, 
the  great  mass  of  a  population  must 
be  indebted  to  a  few  learned  men  for 


128 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCItlPTURE. 


any  acquaintance  whatsoever  with  the 
Scriptures.  Never  let  learning  be 
made  of  small  account  in  reference 
to  religion,  when,  without  learning,  a 
kingdom  must  remain  virtually  with- 
out a  revelation.  If  there  were  no 
learning  in  a  land,  or  if  that  learn- 
ing were  not  brought  to  bear  on  trans- 
lations of  Scripture,  how  could  one  out 
of  a  thousand  know  any  thing  of  the 
Bible  \  Those  who  would  dispense 
with  literature  in  a  priesthood,  under- 
mine a  nation's  great  rampart  against 
heathenism.  And  just  as  the  unlearn- 
ed are  thus,  at  the  very  outset,  de- 
pendent altogether  on  the  learned,  it 
is  not  to  be  denied  that  the  learned 
man  will  possess  always  a  superiority 
over  the  unlearned,  and  that  he  has 
an  apparatus  at  his  disposal,  which  the 
other  has  not,  for  overcoming  much 
that  is  difficult  in  Scripture. 

But  after  all,  when  St.  Peter  speaks 
of  "  things  hard  to  be  understood,"  he 
cannot  be  considered  as  referring  to 
obscurities  which  human  learning  will 
dissipate.  He  certainly  mentions  the 
"  unlearned  "  as  wresting  these  diffi- 
culties, implying  that  the  want  of  one 
kind  of  learning  produced  the  perver- 
sion. But,  of  course,  he  intends  by 
"unlearned"  those  who  were  not  fully 
taught  of  the  Spirit,  and  not  those 
who  were  deficient  in  the  acquire- 
ments of  the  academy.  There  were 
but  few  of  the  learned  of  the  earth 
amongst  the  apostles  and  their  follow- 
ers ;  and  it  were  absurd  to  imagine 
that  all  but  those  wrested  the  Scrip- 
tures to  their  destruction.  And,  there- 
fore, whilst  we  frankly  allow  that  there 
are  difficulties  in  Holy  Writ,  for  the 
coping  with  which  human  learning 
equips  an  individual — historical  diffi- 
culties, for  example,  grammatical,  chro- 
nological— we  see,  at  once,  that  it  can- 
not be  to  these  St.  Peter  refers ;  since, 
when  he  wrote,  either  those  difficul- 
ties had  not  come  into  existence,  or 
he  himself  was  classed  with  the  ''  un- 
learned," if  by  "unlearned"  were  in- 
tended the  men  unenlightened  by  sci- 
ence. 

We  thus  assure  ourselves,  that,  in 
allowing  "  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood "  to  find  place  in  the  volume  of 
inspiration,  God  has  dealt  with  man- 
kind irrespectively  of  the  diflerences 
of  rank.    It  cannot  be  human  learning 


which  makes  these  things  compara- 
tively easy  to  be  understood.  They 
must  remain  hard,  ay,  and  equally 
hard,  whatever  the  literary  advantages 
of  a  student ;  otherwise  the  whole 
statement  of  our  text  becomes  unin- 
telligible. The  "  unlearned,"  in  short, 
are  also  "  the  unstable  :"  it  is  not 
the  want  of  earthly  scholarship  which 
makes  the  difficulties,  it  is  the  want 
of  moral  steadfastness  which  occa- 
sions the  wresting.  We  have  no- 
thing, therefore,  to  do,  in  commenting 
on  the  words  of  St.  Peter,  witli  diffi- 
culties which  may  be  caused  by  a  de- 
fective, and  removed  by  a  liberal  edu- 
cation. The  ditRculties  must  be  diffi- 
culties of  subject.  The  things  which 
are  handled,  and  which  are  "  hard  to 
be  understood,"  must,  in  themselves, 
be  deep  and  mysterious,  and  not  such 
as  present  intricacies  which  human 
criticism  may  prevail  to  unravel.  And 
that  there  are  many  of  these  things  in. 
the  Bible  will  be  questioned  by  none 
who  have  given  themselves  to  its 
study.  It  were  a  waste  of  time  to  ad- 
duce instances  of  the  difficulties.  To 
be  unacquainted  with  them  is  to  be 
unacquainted  with  Scripture ;  whilst 
to  be  surprised  at  their  existence  is  to 
be  surprised  at  what  we  may  call  un- 
avoidable. It  is  this  latter  point  which 
chiefly  requires  illustration,  though 
there  are  others  which  must  not  be 
passed  over  in  silence.  We  assume, 
therefore,  as  matter-of-fact,  that  there 
are  in  Scripture  "  things  hard  to  be 
understood."  We  shall  endeavor  to 
show  you,  in  the  first  place,  that  this 
fact  was  to  be  expected.  We  shall 
then,  in  the  second  place,  point  out 
the  advantages  which  follow  from  the 
fact,  and  the  dispositions  which  it 
should   encourage. 

And,  first,  wc  would  show  you — 
though  this  point  requires  but  brief  ex- 
amination— that  it  was  to  be  expected, 
that  the  Bible  would  contain  "  some 
things  hard  to  be  understood."  Wc 
shoukl  like  to  be  told  what  stamp  of 
inspiration  there  would  be  upon  a  Bi- 
ble containing  nothing  "  hard  to  be  un- 
derstood." Is  it  not  almost  a  self  evi- 
dent proposition,  that  a  revelation  with- 
out difficulty  could  not  be  a  revelation 
of  divinity  1  If  there  lie  any  thing  of 
that  unmeasured  separation,  which  we 
are  all  conscious  there  must   lie,    be- 


THE   DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTURE. 


129 


tween  ourselves  and  the  Creator,  is  it 
not  clear  that  God  cannot  be  compre- 
hensible by  man  ;  and  that,  therefore, 
any  professed  revelation,  which  left 
him  not  incomprehensible,  would  be 
thereby  its  own  witness  to  the  false- 
hood of  its  pretensions'!  You  ask  a  Bi- 
ble which  shall,  in  every  part,  be  sim- 
ple and  intelligible.  But  could  such  a 
Bible  discourse  to  us  of  God,  that  Being 
who  must  remain,  necessarily  and  for 
ever,  a  mystery  to  the  very  highest  of 
created  intelligences'?  Could  such  a 
Bible  treat  of  purposes,  which,  extend- 
ing themselves  over  unlimited  ages, 
and  embracing  the  universe  within 
their  ranges,  demand  eternity  for  their 
development,  and  infinity  for  their  the- 
atre \  Could  such  a  Bible  put  forward 
any  account  of  spiritual  operations, 
seeing  that,  whilst  confined  by  the 
trammels  of  matter,  the  soul  cannot 
fathom  herself,  but  withdraws  herself, 
as  it  were,  and  shrinks  from  her  own 
scrutiny"?  Could  such  a  Bible,  in  short, 
tell  us  any  thing  of  our  condition,  whe- 
ther by  nature  or  grace  1  Could  it  treat 
of  the  entrance  of  evil ;  could  it  treat 
of  the  Incarnation;  of  Regeneration; 
of  a  Resurrection;  of  an  Immortality? 
In  reference  to  all  these  matters,  there 
are  in  the  Bible  "  things  hard  to  be 
understood,"  But  it  is  not  the  manner 
in  which  they  are  handled  which  makes 
them  "  hard  to  be  vinderstood."  The 
subject  itself  gives  the  difficulty.  If 
you  will  not  have  the  difficulty,  you 
cannot  have  the  subject.  You  must 
have  a  Revelation  which  shall  say  no- 
thing on  the  nature  of  God,  for  that 
uiust  remain  inexplicable;  nothing  on 
the  soul,  for  that  must  remain  inexpli- 
cable ;  nothing  on  the  processes  and 
workings  of  grace,  for  these  must  re- 
main inexplicable.  You  must  have  a 
Revelation,  which  shall  not  only  tell 
you  that  such  and  such  things  are,  but 
which'  shall  also  explain  to  you  how 
they  are  :  their  mode,  their  constitu- 
tion, their  essence.  And  if  this  were 
the  character  of  Revelation,  it  would 
undoubtedly  be  so  constructed  as  ne- 
ver to  overtask  reason  ;  but  it  would, 
just  as  clearly,  be  kept  within  this 
boundary  only  by  being  stripped  of  all 
on  which  we  mainly  need  a  Revelation. 
A  Revelation  in  which  there  shall  be 
nothing  "  hard  to  be  understood,"  must 
limit  itself  by  the    powers  of  reason. 


and,  therefore,  exclude  those  very  to- 
pics on  which,  reason  being  insufficient,, 
revelation  is  required.  We  wish  you  to 
be  satisfied  on  the  point,  that  Scriptu- 
ral difficulties  are  not  the  result  of  ob- 
scurity of  style,  of  brevity  of  commu- 
nication, or  of  a  designed  abstruseness 
in  the  method  of  argument.  The  diffi- 
culties lie  simply  in  the  mysterious- 
ness  of  the  subjects.  There  is  no  want 
of  simplicity  of  language  when  God  is 
described  to  us  as  always  every  where. 
But  who  understands  this  1  Can  lan- 
guage make  this  intelligible  "?  Revela- 
tion assures  us  of  the  fact ;  reason, 
with  all  her  stridings,  cannot  overtake 
that  fact.  But  would  you,  therefore, 
require  that  the  omnipresence  of  Deity 
should  be  shut  out  from  revelation? 
There  is  a  perfect  precision  and  plain- 
ness of  speech,  when  the  Bible  dis- 
courses on  the  Word  being  made  flesh, 
and  on  the  second  person  in  the  Tri- 
nity humbling  himself  to  the  being 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man."  Phil. 
2:8.  But  who  can  grapple  with  this 
prodigy  ]  Is  the  palpable  impossibilitj'' 
of  explaining,  or  understanding  it,  at 
all  the  result  of  deficiency  of  state- 
ment ?  Who  does  not  feel  that  the  im- 
possibility lies  in  himself,  and  that  the 
matter  is  unintelligible,  because  neces- 
sarily overpassing  the  sweep  of  his  in- 
telligence "?  He  can  receive  the  bare 
fact ;  he  cannot  receive  the  explana- 
tion. But  shall  we,  on  this  account, 
and  just  in  order  to  have  a  Bible  free 
from  "  things  hard  to  be  understood," 
require  the  Incarnation  to  be  expunged 
from  revelation  1 

We  might  argue  in  like  manner  with 
regard  to  every  Scriptural  difficultj^ 
We  account  for  the  existence  of  these 
difficulties  mainly  by  the  fact  that  we 
are  men,  and,  because  men,  finite  in 
our  capacities.  W^e  suppose  not  that 
it  would  have  been  possible,  by  any 
power  of  description  or  process  of  ex- 
planation, to  have  made  those  things 
which  are  now  hard,  easier  to  be  un- 
derstood, unless  the  human  faculties 
had  been  amplified  and  strengthened, 
so  that  men  had  been  carried  up  to  a 
higher  rank  of  being.  We  can  quite 
believe  that  to  an  angel,  endowed  with 
a  nobler  equipment  of  intellectual  en- 
ergy, and  unincumbered  with  a  frame- 
work of  matter,  there  would  be  a  far 
clearer  idea  conveyed  by  the  revela- 
17 


130 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTURE. 


tion,  that  "  there  arc  three  that  hear 
record  in  heaven,  and  these  tliree  are 
one,"  1  John,  5  :  7,  than  is  conveyed 
by  such  announcement  to  ourselves. 
But  it  does  not,  therefore,  follow  that 
the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  ini?ht  have 
been  made  as  comprehensible  by  us  as 
by  angels.  Let  there  be  only  the  same 
tmount  of  revelation,  and  the  angel 
may  know  more  than  the  man,  because 
gifted  with  a  keener  and  more  vigor- 
ous understanding.  And  it  is  evident, 
therefore,  that  few  things  could  have 
less  warranty  than  the  supposition, 
that  revelation  might  have  been  so 
enlarged,  that  the  knowledge  of  man 
would  have  reached  to  the  measure  of 
the  knowledge  of  angels.  We  again 
say  that  there  is  no  deficiency  of  re- 
velation, and  that  the  difficulties  which 
occur  in  the  perusal  of  Scripture  result 
from  the  majesty  of  the  introduced 
t5ubjects,  and  the  weakness  of  the  fa- 
culties turned  on  their  study.  It  is  lit- 
tle short  of  a  contradiction  in  terms,  to 
speak  of  a  revelation  free  altogether 
from  "  things  hard  to  be  understood." 
And  we  are  well  persuaded,  that,  how- 
ever disposed  men  may  be  to  make  the 
difficulties  an  objection  to  the  Bible, 
the  absence  of  those  difficulties  would 
have  been  eagerly  seized  on  as  a  proof 
of  imposture.  There  would  have  been 
fairness  in  the  objection — and  scepti- 
cism would  not  have  been  slow  in  tri- 
umphantly urging  it — that  a  book, 
which  brought  down  the  infinite  to  the 
level  of  the  finite,  must  contain  false 
representations,  and  deserve,  therefore, 
40  be  placed  under  the  outlawry  of  the 
world.  We  should  have  had  reason  tak- 
ing up  an  opposite  position,  but  one  far 
more  tenable  than  she  occupies  when 
i^rguing  from  the  diffi.culty,  against  the 
--livinity,  of  Scripture.  Reason  has  sa- 
gacity enough,  if  you  remove  the  bias 
if  the  "  evil  heart  of  unbelief,"  Heb. 
H  :  12,  to  perceive  the  impossibility  that 
God  should  be  searched  out  and  com- 
prehended by  man.  And  if,  therefore, 
reason  sat  in  judgment  on  a  professed 
revelation  of  the  Almighty,  and  found 
that  it  gave  no  account  of  the  Deity, 
but  one,  in  every  respect,  easy  and  in- 
telligible, so  that  God  described  himself 
as  removed  not,  either  in  essence  or 
properties,  from  the  ken  of  humanity,  it 
can  scarcely  be  questioned  that  she 
would  give  down  as  her  verdict,  and 


that  j  usticc  would  loudly  applaud  the  de- 
cision, that  the  alleged  communication 
from  heaven  wanted  the  signs  the  most 
elementary  of  so  illustrious  an  origin. 
It  can  only  be  viewed  as  a  necessary 
consequence  on  the  grandeur  of  the 
subjects  which  form  the  matter  of  re- 
velation, that,  with  every  endeavor  at 
simplicity  of  style  and  aptitude  of  illus- 
tration, the  document  contains  state- 
ments which  overmatch  all  but  the 
faith  of  mankind.  And,  therefore,  we 
are  bold  to  say  that  we  glory  in  the 
difficulties  of  Scripture.  We  can  in- 
deed desire,  as  well  as  those  who  would 
turn  these  difficulties  into  occasion  of 
cavil  and  objection,  to  understand,  with 
a  thorough  accuracy,  the  registered 
truths,  and  to  penetrate  and  explore 
those  solemn  mysteries  v.diich  crowd 
the  pages  of  inspiration.  We  can  feel, 
whilst  the  volume  of  Holy  Writ  lies 
open  before  us,  and  facts  are  presented 
which  seem  every  way  infinite — height, 
and  breadth,  and  depth,  and  length,  all 
defying  the  boldest  journeyings  of  the 
spirit — we  can  feel  the  quick  pulse  of 
an  eager  wish  to  scale  the  mountain, 
or  fathom  the  abyss.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  we  knov/,  and  we  feel,  that  a  Bible 
without  difficulties  were  a  firmament 
without  stars.  We  know,  and  v.'e  feel, 
that  a  far-off  land,  enamelled,  as  we 
believe  it,  with  a  loveliness  v.'hich  is 
not  of  this  earth,  and  inhabited  by  a 
tenantry  gloriously  distinct  from  our 
own  order  of  being,  would  not  be 
the  magnificent  and  richly-peopled  do- 
main v/hich  it  is,  if  its  descriptions 
overpassed  not  the  outlines  of  human 
geography.  We  know,  and  we  feel, 
that  the  Creator  of  all  things,  he  who 
stretched  out  the  heavens,  and  sprink- 
led them  with  worlds,  could  not  be, 
what  we  are  assured  that  He  is,  inac- 
cessibly sublime  and  avv'fully  great,  if 
there  could  be  given  us  a  portrait  of 
his  nature  and  properties,  whose  every 
feature  might  be  sketched  by  a  hu- 
man pencil,  whose  every  characteristic 
scanned  by  a  iiuman  vision.  We  know, 
and  we  feel,  that  the  vast  business  of 
our  redemption,  arranged  in  the  coun- 
cils of  (he  far-back  eternity,  and  acted 
out  amid  the  wondering  and  throbbings 
of  the  universe,  could  not  have  been 
that  stupendous  transaction  which  gave 
God  glory  by  giving  sinners  safety,  if 
the  inspired  account  brought  its  dimcn- 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF   SCRIPTURE. 


131 


sions  within  tlie  compass  of  a  iiuman 
arithmetic,  or  defined  its  issues  by  the 
lines  of  a  liuman  demarcation.  And, 
therefore,  do  we  also  know  and  feel 
that  it  is  a  witness  to  the  inspiration 
of  the  Bible,  that,  when  this  Bible 
would  furnish  us  with  notices  of  the 
unseen  world  hereafter  to  be  traversed, 
or  when  it  would  turn  thought  on  the 
Omnipotent,  or  when  it  would  open  up 
the  scheme  of  the  restoration  of  the 
fallen ;  then,  with  much  that  is  beauti- 
fully simple,  and  which  the  wayfaring 
man  can  read  and  understand,  there 
are  mingled  dark  intimations,  and  preg- 
nant hints,  and  undeveloped  statements, 
before  which  the  weak  and  the  master- 
ful must  alike  do  the  homage  of  a  reve- 
rent and  uncalculating  submission.  We 
could  not  rise  up  from  the  perusal  of 
Scripture  with  a  deep  conviction  that 
it  is  the  word  of  the  living  God,  if  we 
had  found  no  occasions  on  which  rea- 
son was  required  to  humble  herself  be- 
fore giant-like  truth,  and  implicit  faith 
has  been  the  only  act  which  came  with- 
in our  range  of  moral  achievement. 
We  do  not  indeed  say — for  the  saying 
would  carry  absurdity  on  its  forefront 
— that  we  believe  a  document  in- 
spired, because,  in  part,  incomprehen- 
sible. But  if  a  document  profess  to  be 
inspired ;  and  if  it  treat  of  subjects 
which  we  can  prove  beforehand  to  be 
above  and  beyond  the  stretchings  of  our 
intellect;  then,  v.^e  do  say  that  the  find- 
ing nothing  in  such  a  document  to  baf- 
fle the  understanding  would  be  a  proof 
the  most  conclusive,  that  Vv'hat  alleges 
itself  divine  deserves  rejection  as  a  for- 
gery. And  whilst,  therefore,  we  see 
going  forward  on  all  sides  the  accumu- 
lation of  the  evidences  of  Christianity, 
and  history  and  science  are  bringing 
their  stores  and  emptying  them  at  the 
feet  of  our  religion,  and  the  very  wrath 
of  theiidversary,  being  the  accomplish- 
ment of  prophecy,  is  proving  that  we 
follow  no  "  cunningly  devised  fables  ;" 
2  Pet.  1:16;  we  feel  that  it  was  so 
much  to  be  expected,  yea,  rather  that 
it  was  altogether  so  unavoidable,  that  a 
revelation  would,  in  many  parts,  be  ob- 
scure, that  we  take  as  the  last  link  in 
the  chain  of  a  lengthened  and  irrefraga- 
ble demonstration,  that  there  are  in  the 
Bible  "  things  hard  to  be  understood." 
But  Ave  trench  on  the  second  division 
of  our  subject,  and  will  proceed,  there- 


fore, to  the  more  distinct  exposition  of 
the  advantages  which  follow,  and  the 
dispositions  which  should  be  encour- 
aged by,  the  fact  which  has  passed  un- 
der review.  We  see,  at  once,  from  the 
statement  of  St.  Peter,  that  eflects,  to 
all  appearance  disastrous,  are  produced 
by  the   difficulties   of  Scripture.    The 
"  unlearned  and  unstable  "  wrest  these 
difficulties  to  "  their  own  destruction  ;" 
and,  therefore,  though  we  have  proved 
these  difficulties  unavoidable,  by  what 
process  of  reasoning  can  they  be  prov- 
ed advantageous  1     Now,  if  we   have 
carried  you  along  with  us  through  our 
foregoing  argument,  you   are   already 
furnished  with  one  answer  to  this  in- 
quiry.   We  have  shov/n  you  that  the 
absence  of  difficulties  would  go  far  to- 
wards proving  the  Scriptures  uninspir- 
ed ;  and  we  need  not  remark  that  there 
must  be  a  use  for  difficulties,  if  essen- 
tial to   the  complete  witness  for  the 
truth   of  Christianity.     But  there    are 
other   advantages   which  must,   on  no 
account,  be  overlooked.  We  only  wish 
it  premised,  that,  though  the  difficulties 
of   Scripture — as,   for   example,   those 
parts   which   involve   predestination — 
are  wrested  by  many  "  to  their  own  de- 
struction," the  "  unlearned  and  unsta- 
ble "  Avould  have  equally  perished,  had 
no  difficulties  whatsoever  existed.    As 
the  case  indeed  now  stands,  the  "  things 
hard  to  be  understood  "  are  the  stum- 
bling-blocks over  which  they  fall,  and, 
falling,  are  destroyed.    But  they  would 
have  stumbled  on  the  plain  ground  as 
well  as  on  the  rough  :  there  being  no 
more  certain  truth  in  theology,  than 
that  the  cause  of  stumbling  is  the  in- 
ternal feebleness,  and  not  the  external 
impediment.  A  man  may  perish,  osten- 
sibly through  abuse  of  the  doctrine  of 
election.  He  may  say,  I  am  elect,  and, 
therefore,  shall  be  saved,  though  I  con- 
tinue in  sin.     Thus  he  wrests  election, 
and  that  too  to  his  own  certain    de- 
struction.   But  would  he  not  have  per- 
ished had  he  found  no  such  doctrine  to 
wrest"?    Ay,  that  he  would;  as  fatally, 
and  as  finally.  It  is  the  love  of  sin,  the 
determination  to  live  in  sin,  Avhich  de- 
stroys him.  And  though,  whilst  giving 
the  reins  to  his  lusts,  he  attempts  to 
derive  from  election  a  quietus  and  ex- 
cuse, can  you  think  that  he  would  be 
at    a   loss  to  find  them  elsewhere,  if 
there   were    no    doctrine    of    election 


132 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTURE. 


from  which,  when  abased,  they  may 
be  wrenched  and  extorted  ?  It  is  pos- 
sible that  a  man  may  slay  himself  with 
"  the  sword  of  the  Spirit ;"  Ephesians, 
6  :  17  ;  but  only  because  he  is  so  bent 
upon  suicide,  that,  had  he  not  found  so 
costly  a  weapon,  he  Avould  have  fallen 
on  a  ruder  and  less  polished.  Satan  has 
every  krnd  of  instrument  in  his  armory, 
and  leaves  no  one  at  a  loss  for  a  me- 
thod of  self-destruction.  So  that,  had 
it  not  been  unavoidable  that  "  things 
hard  to  be  understood"  should  find 
place  in  the  Bible,  their  insertion, 
though  apparently  causing  the  ruin  of 
many,  would  in  no  degree  have  im- 
peached the  loving-kindness  of  the  Al- 
mighty. Scriptural  difficulties  destroy 
none  who  would  not  have  been  destroy- 
ed had  no  difficulties  existed.  And, 
therefore,  difficulties  might  be  permit- 
ted for  certain  ends  wliich  they,  un- 
doubtedly, subserve,  and  yet  not  a 
solitary  individual  be  injured  by  an  al- 
lowance which  is  to  benefit  the  great 
body  of  the  church.  We  wish  this 
conclusion  borne  carefully  in  mind, 
because  the  first  impression,  on  read 
ingour  text,  is,  that  some  are  destroy- 
ed by  the  "things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood," and  that  they  would  not  have 
been  destroyed  without  these  things 
to  wrest.  This  first  impression  is  a 
wrong  one  ;  the  hard  things  giving  the 
occasion,  but  never  being  the  cause 
of  destruction.  The  unstable  wrest 
what  is  difficult.  But,  rather  than  be 
without  something  to  pervert,  if  there 
were  not  the  difficult,  they  would  wrest 
the  simple. 

This  being  premised,  we'may  enlarge, 
without  fear,  on  the  advantages  result- 
ing from  the  fact,  that  Scripture  con- 
tains "  some  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood." And  first,  if  there  were  nothing 
in  Scripture  which  overpowered  our 
reason,  who  sees  not  that  intellectual 
pride  would  be  fostered  by  its  study  1 
The  grand  moral  discipline  which  the 
Bible  now  exerts,  and  which  renders 
its  perusal  the  best  exercise  to  which 
men  can  be  subjected,  lies  simply  in 
its  perpetual  requisition  that  Eeason 
submit  herself  to  Revelation.  You  can 
make  no  way  with  the  disclosures  of 
Holy  Writ,  until  prepared  to  receive, 
on  the  authority  of  God,  a  vast  deal 
which,  of  yourself,  you  cannot  prove, 
and  still  more,  which  you  cannot  ex- 


plain. And  it  is  a  fine  schooling  for  the 
student,  when,  at  every  step  in  his  re- 
search, he  finds  himself  thrown  on  his 
faith,  required  to  admit  truth  because 
the  Almighty  hath  spoken  it,  and  not 
because  he  himself  can  demonstrate. 
It  is  just  the  most  rigorous  and  whole- 
some tuition  under  which  the  human 
mind  can  be  brought,  when  it  is  con- 
tinually called  ofTfrom  its  favorite  pro- 
cesses of  argument  and  commentary, 
and  summoned  into  the  position  of  a 
meek   recipient  of   intelligence  to    be 
taken    without    questioning — honored 
with  belief  when  it  cannot   be  cleared 
by  exposition.    And  of  all  this  school- 
ing   and   tuition  you   would    instantly 
deprive  us,  if  you  took  away  from  the 
Bible  "things  hard  to  be  understood." 
Nay,  it  were  comparatively  little  that 
we    should    lose    the    discipline :     we 
should    live   under   a   counter   system, 
encouraging    what    we    arc    bound    to 
repress.    If  man  were  at  all  left  to  en- 
tertain the  idea  that  he  can   compre- 
hend God,  or  measure  his  purposes — 
and   such  idea  might  be  lawful,  were 
there   no  mysteries   in  Scripture — we 
know  no  bounds  which  could  be  set  to 
his  intellectual  haughtiness  :  for  if  rea- 
son seemed  able  to  embrace  Deity,  who 
could  persuade  her  that  she  is  scant 
and    contracted!     I   might  almost   be 
pardoned  the  fostering  a  consciousness 
of  mental  greatness,  and  the  supposing 
myself  endowed  with  a  vast  nobility  of 
spirit,  if  I  found  that  I  kept  pace  with 
all  the  wonders  which  God  brought  out 
from  his  own  nature  and  his  own  dwell- 
ing, and  if  no  disclosures  were  made 
to  this  creation  too   dazzling  for  my 
scrutiny,  or  too  deep  for  my  penetra- 
tion. A  Bible  without  difficulties  would 
be    a  censer  full  of  incense  to  man's 
reason.    It  would  be  the  greatest  flat- 
terer of  reason,  passing  on  it  a  compli- 
ment and  eulogy  which  would  infinitely 
outdo  the  most  far-fetched  of  human 
panegyrics.    And  if  the  fallen  require 
to  be  kept  humble  ;  if  we  can  advance 
in  spiritual  attainment  only  in  propor- 
tion   as    we    feel    our    insignificance  ; 
would  not  this  conversion  of  the  Bible 
into  the  very  nurse  and  encourager  of 
intellectual    pride,    abstract     its    best 
worth  from  revelation;  and  who,  there- 
fore, will  deny  that  we  are  advantaged 
by  the  fact,  that  there  are  in  Scripture 
"things  hard  to  be  understood V 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRirTURE. 


133 


We  remark  again,  that  though  con- 
troversy have  its  evils,  it  has  also  its 
uses.  We  never  infer,  that,  because 
there  is  no  controversy  in  a  church, 
there  must  be  the  upholding  of  sound 
doctrine.  It  is  not  the  stagnant  water 
Avhich  is  generally  the  purest.  And  if 
there  are  no  dilTerences  of  opinion 
which  set  men  on  examining  and  as- 
certaining their  own  belief,  the  proba- 
bility is,  that,  like  the  Samaritans  of 
old,  they  will  worship  they  "  know  not 
what."  John,  4  :  22.  Heresy  itself  is, 
in  one  sense,  singularly  beneficial.  It 
helps  to  sift  a  professing  community, 
and  to  separate  the  chafi'  from  the 
wheat.  And  whilst  the  unstable  are 
carried  about  by  the  winds  of  false 
doctrine,  those  who  keep  their  stead- 
fastness find,  as  it  were,  their  moral  at- 
mosphere cleared  by  the  tempest.  We 
consider  this  statement  to  be  that  of 
St.  Paul,  when  he  says  to  the  Corinthi- 
ans, "  There  must  be  also  heresies 
amongst  you,  that  they  which  are  ap- 
proved may  be  made  manifest."  1  Cor. 
1 1  :  19.  And  it  is  not  the  mere  separa- 
tion of  the  genuine  from  the  fictitious 
which  is  effected  through  the  publica- 
tion of  error.  We  hold  that  heresies 
have  been  of  vast  service  to  the  Church, 
in  that  they  have  caused  truth  to  be 
more  thoroughly  scanned,  and  all  its 
bearings  and  boundaries  explored  with 
a  most  pains-taking  industry.  It  is  as- 
tonishing how  apt  men  are  to  rest  in 
general  and  ill-defined  notions,  so  that, 
when  interrogated  and  probed  on  an 
article  of  faith,  they  show  themselves 
unable  to  give  account  of  their  belief. 
When  a  new  error  is  propounded,  you 
will  find  that  candid  men  will  confess, 
that,  on  examining  their  own  views  on 
the  litigated  point,  they  have  found 
them  in  many  respects  vague  and  in 
coherent ;  so  that,  until  driven  to  the 
work  of  expounding  and  defining,  they 
have  never  suspected  their  ignorance 
upon  matters  with  which  they  profess- 
ed themselves  altogether  familiar.  We 
think  that  few  men  would  have  correct 
notions  of  truth,  unless  occasionally 
compelled  to  investigate  their  own 
opinions.  They  take  for  granted  that 
they  understand  what  they  believe.  But 
when  heresy  or  controversy  arises,  and 
they  are  required  to  state  what  they 
hold,  they  will  themselves  be  surprised 
at  the   confusion  of  their  sentiments. 


We  are  persuaded,  for  example,  that, 
however  mischievous  in  many  respects 
may  have  been  the  modern  agitation 
of  the  question  of  Christ's  humanity, 
the  great  body  of  christians  have  been 
thereby  advantaged.  Until  the  debate 
was  raised,  hundreds  and  thousands 
were  unconsciously  holding  error.  Be- 
ing never  required  to  define  the  true 
doctrine  of  the  Savior's  person,  they 
never  doubted  that  they  knew  and  un- 
derstood it,  though,  all  the  while,  they 
either  confounded  the  natures,  or  mul- 
tiplied the  person  ;  or — and  this  was 
the  ordinary  case — formed  no  idea  at 
all  on  so  mysterious,  yet  fundamental 
a  matter.  Thus  controversy  stirs  the 
waters,  and  prevents  their  growing 
stagnant.  We  do  not  indeed  under- 
stand from  the  "  must  be  "  of  St.  Paul, 
that  the  well-being  of  the  church  is  de- 
pendent on  heresy,  so  that,  unless  here- 
sy enter,  the  church  cannot  prosper. 
But  we  can  readily  suppose  that  God, 
foreknowing  the  corruptions  which 
would  be  attempted  of  the  Gospel,  de- 
termined to  employ  these  corruptions 
as  instruments  for  speeding  onward  the 
growth  in  grace  of  his  people.  The 
"  must  be"  refers  to  human  depravity 
and  Satanic  influence.  It  indicates  a 
necessity  for  which  the  creature  alone 
is  answerable,  whilst  the  end,  which 
heresies  subserve,  is  that  which  most 
engages  the  interferences  of  the  Crea- 
tor. Thus  we  speak  of  evil  as  benefi- 
cial, only  as  overruled  by  the  Almightj% 
and  pronounce  controversy  advantage- 
ous, because  a  corrupt  nature  needs 
frequent  agitation.  If  never  called  to 
defend  the  truth,  the  church  would 
comparatively  lose  sight  of  what  truth 
is.  And  therefore,  however  the  absence 
of  controversy  may  agree  well  with  a 
millennial  estate,  we  are  amongst  the 
last  who  would  desire  that  it  should 
not  now  be  heard  in  the  land.  AVe  feel 
that  if  now  "  the  wolf  should  dwell  with 
the  lamb,  and  the  leopard  lie  down  with 
the  kid,"  Isa.  11:6,  we  should  have 
nothing  but  the  millennium  of  liberal- 
ism :  the  lamb  being  nothing  more  than 
the  wolf  in  disguise,  and  the  kid  the 
leopard  with  his  spots  slightly  colored. 
Such  is  the  constitution  of  man — and 
such  it  will  be,  till  there  pass  over  this 
globe  a  mighty  regeneration — that,  un- 
less there  be  opposition,  we  shall  have  no 
purity.  Dissent  itself,  with  its  manifold 


134 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTURE. 


and  multiform  evils,  has  done  the  church  |  that  he  shall  know  them  hereafter.  And, 
service;  and,  by  rousing  energies  which  j  tlierefore,  in  every  scriptural  difficulty 
might  otherwise  have  lain  dormant,  has  j  I  read  the  pledge  of  a  mighty  enlarge- 
given  fixedness  where  it  thought  to  un-  ment  of  the  human  faculties.  In  every 
dermine.  But  if  there  were  no  scriptu-  mysterjr,  though  a  darkness  thick  as 
ral  difficulties,  we  could  have  no  con-  the  Egyptian  may  now  seem  to  shroud 
troversy.  The  "  things  hard  to  be  un-  it,  I  can  find  one  bright  and  burning 
derstood"  form  the  groundwork  of  dif-  {  spot,  glowing  with  promise  that  there 
ferences  of  opinion  :  and,  if  these  were  shall  yet  come  a  day,  when,  every  pow- 
swept  away,  there  would  either  be  er  of  the  soul  being  wrought  into  a  ce- 
space  for  only  one  theory,  or,  if  an-  lestial  strength,  1  shall  be  privileged, 
other  were  broached,  it  would  be  too  '  as  it  were,  to  stretch  out  the  hand  of 
absurd  for  debate.  So  that  scriptural  the  lawgiver  and  roll  back  the  clouds 
difficulties  arc  literally  the  preserva-  |  which  here  envelope  the  truth.  I  can 
lives  of  sound  doctrine.  The  church  !  muse  upon  one  of  those  things  which 
would  slumber  into  ignorance  of  even  are  "hard,  to  be  understood,"  till  it 
simple  and  elementary  truth,  if  there  seem  to  put  on  the  prophet's  mantle, 
Avere  no  hard  things,  which,  wrested  and  preach  tome  of  futurity;  telling 
by  the  unstable,  keep  her  always  on  the  ,  me,  in  accents  more  spirit-stirring  than 
alert.  And  if,  therefore,  the  upholding,  :  those  of  the  boldest  of  mortal  oratory, 
through  successive  generations,  of  a  that  the  present  is  but  the  infancy  of 
clear  and  orthodox  creed,  be  a  result  '  my  being ;  and  that,  in  a  nobler  and 
whicli  you  hail  as  teeming  with  advan-  more  glorious  estate,  I  shall  start  from 
tage,  have  we  not  a  right  to  press  home  I  moral  and  mental  dwarfishness,  and, 
on  you  the  fact,  that  it  is  advantageous  endowed  with  vigor  of  perception,  and 
to  mankind  that  there  are  in  the  Bible  keenness  of  vision,  and  vastness  of 
"  some  things  hard  to  be  understood  V  apprehension,  walk  the  labyrinth,  and 
We  might  extend  on  all  sides  our  pierce  the  rock,  and  weigh  the  moun- 
view  oF  the  advantages  of  difficulties,  tain.  Oh,  I  can  thank  God  that,  amongst 
But  we  are  confined  by  the  limits  of  a  those  countless  mercies  which  he  has 
discourse,  and  shall  only  adduce  one  ■  poured  dovv'n  on  our  pathway,  he  hath 
other  illustration.    When  I  read  the  Bi-    given  us  a  Bible  which  is  not  in  every 


i 


ble,  and  meet  with  passages  which,  after 
the  most  patient  exercises  of  thought 
and  research,  remain  dark  and  impene- 
trable, then,  in  the  most  especial  de- 
gree, I  feel  myself  immortal.  The  find- 
ing a  thing   "hard  to  be  understood" 


part  to  be  explained.  The  difficulties 
of  Holy  Writ — let  them  be  made  by  ob- 
jectors the  subjects  of  marvel,  or  of 
cavil — they  constitute  one  great  sheet 
of  our  charter  of  immortality  :  and,  in 
place   of  wondering   that   God   should 


ministers  to  my  consciousness  that  I  t  have  permitted  them,  or  lamenting  that 
am  no  perishable  creature,  destined  to  |  they  cannot  be  overcome,  1  rejoice  in 
a  finite  existence,  but  a  child  of  eter-  j  them  as  earnests,  given  me  by  Him 
nity,  appointed  to  survive  the  dissolu-  i  "  who  cannot  lie,"  Titus,  1  :  2,  that  man 


tions  of  matter,  and  to  enter  on  another 
and  an  untried  being.  If  the  Bible  be 
God's  revelation  of  himself  to  mankind, 
it  is  a  most  fair  expectation,  that,  at  one 
time  or  another,  the  whole  of  this  re- 
velation will  be  clear  and  accessible  ; 
that  the  obscure  points,  which  we  can- 
not now  elucidate,  and  the  lofty  points, 
which  we  cannot  now  scale,  will  be  en- 
lightened by  the  flashings  of  a  brighter 
luminary,  and  given  up  to  the  march- 
ings of  a  more  vigorous  inquiry.  We 
can  never  think  that   God  would  tell 


hath  yet  to  advance  to  a  sublime  rank 
amongst  orders  of  intelligence,  and  to 
stand,  in  the  maturity  of  his  strength, 
in  the  very  centre  of  the  panorama  of 
truth.  And  if  it  be  true  that  every 
mystery  in  Scripture,  as  giving  pledge 
of  an  enlargement  of  capacities,  wit- 
nesses to  the  glories  with  v>'hich  the  fu- 
ture comes  charged  ;  and  if  from  every 
intricate  passage,  and  every  dark  say- 
ing, and  every  unfathomable  statement, 
we  draw  new  proof  of  the  magnificence 
of  our   destinies  ;    which   of  you  will 


man  things  for  the  understanding  of  I  withhold  his  confession,  that  the  diffi- 
which  he  is  to  be  always  incapacitated.  I  culties  of  the  Bible  are  productive  of 
If  he  know  them  not  now,  the  very  fact  benefit,  and  that,  consequently,  there 
of  their  being  told  is  sufficient  proof    result  advantages  from  the  fact,  that 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCPaPTURE. 


lo5 


there  are    in  Scripture  "  some  things 
hard  to  be  understood  ]" 

Such  are  certain  of  the  advantages 
whicii  we  proposed  to  investigate.  It 
yet  remains  that  we  briefly  state,  and 
call  upon  you  to  cultivate,  the  disposi- 
tions which  should  be  brought  to  the 
study  of  a  Bible  thus  "  hard  to  be  un- 
derstood." We  have  shown  you  that 
there  are  difficulties  in  Scripture  which 
must  remain  unexplained  v»^hilst  we 
continue  in  the  flesh.  Other  difficul- 
ties indeed  may  be  removed  by  thought, 
and  prayer,  and  research ;  and  we 
would  not  have  you  sparing  of  any  of 
these  appliances  when  yoa  examine  the 
volume  of  inspiration.  But  difficulties 
which  are  inherent  in  the  subject; 
things  ''hard  to  be  understood"  be- 
cause they  deal,  for  example,  Avith  the 
nature,  and  purposes,  and  workings  of 
Deity ;  these  are  not  to  be  mastered 
by  any  powers  of  reason,  and  are, 
therefore,  matters  for  the  exercise  of 
faith  rather  than  of  intellect.  We  ought 
to  know,  before  we  open  the  Bible, 
that  it  must  present  difficulties  of  this 
class  and  description.  We  are  therefore 
bound,  if,  in  idolizing  reason,  we  should 
not  degrade  and  decry  it,  to  sit  down 
to  the  study  of  Scripture  with  a  meek 
and  chastened  understanding,  expect- 
ing to  be  baffled,  and  ready  to'submit. 
We  tell  the  young  amongst  you  more 
especially,  who,  in  the  pride  of  an  un- 
disciplined intellect,  would  turn  to  St. 
Paul  as  they  turn  to  Bacon  or  Locke, 
arsfuina:  that  what  was  written  for  man 
must  be  comprehensible  by  man— we 
tell  them  that  nothing  is  excellent  out 
of  its  place  ;  and  that,  in  the  examina- 
tion of  Scripture,  then  only  does  rea- 
son show  herself  noble,  when,  conscious 
of  the  presence  of  a  king,  the  knee  is 
bent,  and  the  head  uncovered.  We 
v/ould  have  it,  therefore,  remembered, 
that  the  docility  and  sufcmissiveness  of 
a  child  alone  befit  the  student  of  the 
Bible  ;  and  that,  if  we  would  not  have 
the  whole  volume  darkened,  its  sim- 
plest truths  eluding  the  grasp  of  our 
understanding,  or  gaining,  at  least,  no 
hold  on  our  affections,  we  must  lay 
aside  the  feelings  which  we  carry  into 
the  domains  of  science  and  philosophy, 
not  arming  ourselves  with  a  chivalrous 
resolve  to  conquer,  but  with  one  which 
it  is  a  thousand-fold  harder  cither  to 
form  or  execute,  to  yield. 


The  Holy  Spirit  alone  can  make  us 
feel  the  things  which  are  easy  to  be 
understood,  and  prevent  our  wresting 
those  which  are  hard.  Never  then 
should  the  Bible  be  opened  except  with 
prayer  for  the  teachings  of  this  Spirit. 
You  will  read  without  profit,  as  long  as 
you  read  without  prayer.  It  is  only  in 
the  degree  that  the  Spirit,  which  in- 
dited a  text,  takes  it  from  the  page  and 
breathes  it  into  the  heart,  that  we  can 
comprehend  its  meaning,  be  touched 
by  its  beauty,  stirred  by  its  remon- 
strance, or  animated  by  its  promise. 
We  shall  never,  then,  master  scriptu- 
ral difficulties  by  the  m.ethods  which 
prove  successful  in  grappling  with  phi- 
losophical. Why  is  it  that  the  poor 
peasant,  whose  understanding  is  weak 
and  undisciplined,  has  clear  insight  in- 
to the  meaning  of  verses,  and  finds  in 
them  irresistible  power  and  inexhausti- 
ble comfort,  vv'hilst  the  very  same  pas- 
sages are  given  up  as  mysteries,  or 
overlooked  as  unimportant,  by  the  high 
and  lettered  champion  of  a  scholastic 
theology  ?  It  were  idle  to  deny  that  our 
rustic  divines  will  oftentimes  travel, 
with  a  far  stancher  and  more  dominant 
step  than  our  collegiate,  into  the  depths 
of  a  scriptural  statement ;  and  that  you 
might  obtain  from  some  of  the  patri- 
archs of  our  valleys,  whose  chief  in- 
struction has  been  their  own  commun- 
ing with  the  Almighty,  such  explana- 
tions of  "things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood "  as  would  put  to  sham.e  the  com- 
mentaries of  our  most  learned  exposi- 
tors. And  of  this  phenomenon  the  solu- 
tion would  be  hopeless,  if  there  were 
not  a  broad  instituted  difference  be- 
tween human  and  sacred  literature : 
"  the  kingdom  of  heaven"  being  "  like 
unlo  treasure  hid  in  a  field ;"  Matt. 
13  :  44.;  and  the  finding  this  treasure 
depending  not  at  all  on  the  pov.'er  of 
the  intellect  brought  to  the  search,  but 
on  the  heartiness  and  the  earnestness 
with  which  the  Psalmist's  prayec  is 
used,  "  open  thou  mine  eyes,  that  I  may 
behold  wondrous  things  out  of  tby 
law."  Psalm  119  :  18.  If  you  open  a 
scientific  book,  or  study  an  abstruse 
and  metaphysical  work,  let  reason  gird 
herself  boldly  for  the  task:  the  pro- 
vince belongs  fairly  to  her  jurisdic- 
tion ;  and  she  may  cling  to  her  own  ener- 
gies without  laying  herself  open  to  the 
charge,  that,  according  to  the  charac- 


136 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTURE. 


teristic  which  Joel  gives  of  the  last 
times,  the  weak  is  vaunting  itself  the 
strong.  Joel,  3  :  10.  But  if  you  open 
the  Bible,  and  sit  down  to  the  investi- 
gation of  scriptural  truth,  you  are  in  a 
district  which  lies  far  beyond  the  just 
limits  of  the  empire  of  reason :  there 
is  need  of  an  apparatus  wholly  distinct 
from  that  which  sufficed  for  your  form- 
er inquiry  :  and  if  you  think  to  compre- 
hend revelation,  except  so  far  as  the 
author  shall  act  as  interpreter,  you  are, 
most  emphatically,  the  weak  pronounc- 
ing yourselves  the  strong,  and  the  Bi- 
ble shall  be  to  you  a  closed  book,  and 
you  shall  break  not  the  seals  which 
God  himself  hath  placed  on  the  volume. 
Oh,  they  are  seals  which  melt  away 
like  a  snow-wreath,  before  the  breath- 
ings of  the  Spirit;  but  not  all  the  fire 
of  human  genius  shall  ever  prevail  to 
dissolve  or  loosen  them. 

We  feel  that  we  have  a  difficult  part 
to  perform  in  ministering  to  the  con- 
gregation which  assembles  within  these 
walls.  Gathered  as  it  is  from  many 
parts,  and,  without  question,  including 
oftentimes  numbers  who  make  no  pro- 
fession whatsoever  of  religion,  we  think 
it  bound  on  us  to  seek  out  great  variety 
of  subjects,  so  that,  if  possible,  the  case 
of  none  of  the  audience  may  be  quite 
overlooked  in  a  series  of  discourses. 
And  we  feel  it  peculiarly  needful  that 
we  touch  now  and  then,  as  we  have 
done  this  night,  on  topics  connected 
with  infidelity,  because  we  fear  that  in- 
fidelity is  growing  in  the  land,  and  spe- 
cially amongst  its  well-educated  youth. 
If  there  be  one  saying  in  the  Bible,  bear- 
ing reference  to  the  things  of  the  pre- 
sent dispensation,  on  which  we  look  with 
greater  awe  than  on  another,  it  is  this 
of  Christ  Jesus,  "  Avhen  the  Son  of  Man 
cometh,  shall  he  find  faith  on  the  earth  1" 
Luke,  18  :  8.  It  would  seem  to  mark  out 
a  fierce  conflict  of  antagonist  princi- 
ples, issuing  in  the  almost  total  eject- 
ment of  Christianity  ;  so  that,  when  the 
day  of  the  second  advent  is  ushered  in 
by  its  august  heraldry,  it  shall  dawn 
upon  blasted  and  blackened  scenery, 
and  discover  the  mass  of  mankind  car- 
rying on,  amid  demolished  temples  and 
desecrated  Bibles,  the  orgies  of  a  dark 
and  desperate  revelry.  And  knowing 
that  such  is  the  tenor  of  prophecy, and  | 
gathering  from  many  and  infallible  signs  i 
that  already  has  the  war-tug  begun,  we  I 


warn  you,  and  beseech  you,  with  all  the 
veins  of  our  heart,  that  ye  be  on  your 
guard  against  the  inroads  of  scepticism. 
We  speak  peculiarly  to  the  young,  the 
young  men  who  throng  this  chapel, 
and  who,  in  the  intercourses  of  life, 
will  meet  with  many  who  lie  in  wait  to 
deceive.  It  is  not  possible  that  you 
should  mix  much  with  the  men  of  this 
liberal  and  libertine  age,  and  not  hear 
insinuations,  either  more  or  less  direct, 
thrown  out  against  the  grand  and  sav- 
ing tenets  of  Christianity.  You  cannot, 
even  by  the  exercise  of  the  most  godly 
circumspection,  keep  yourselves  wholly  ■ 
at  a  distance  from  the  sarcasms  or  so- 
phisms of  insidious  and  pestilent  teach- 
ers. The  enemy  is  ever  on  the  watch  ; 
and,  adapting  himself  to  the  various 
dispositions  and  circumstances  of  those 
whom  he  seeks  to  entangle,  can  ad- 
dress the  illiterate  with  a  hollow  jest, 
and  assail  the  educated  with  a  well- 
turned  objection.  Oh,  I  could  tremble 
for  those,  who,  blind  to  the  weakness 
which  is  naturally  the  portion  of  our 
race,  and  rashly  confident  in  a  strength 
to  which  the  fallen  have  no  jot  of 
pretension,  adventure  themselves  now 
upon  the  sea  of  life,  and  go  forth 
into  a  world  Avhere  must  often  be  en- 
countered temptations  to  think  light- 
ly of  the  faith  of  their  fathers.  Oh, 
1  say,  I  could  tremble  for  them.  If 
any  amongst  you — I  speak  it  with 
all  affection,  and  from  the  knowledge 
which  positions  in  life  have  enabled 
me  to  form  of  the  progress  of  youthful 
infidelity — if  any  amongst  you  enter 
the  busy  scenes  of  society,  with  an 
overweening  confidence  in  your  own 
capacities,  with  the  lofty  opinion  of 
the  powers  of  reason,  and  with  a 
hardy  persuasion  that  there  is  nerve 
enough  in  the  mind  to  grapple  with 
divine  mysteries,  and  vigor  enough  to 
discover  truth  for  itself — if,  in  short, 
you,  the  weak,  shall  say  we  are  strong 
— then  I  fear  for  you,  far  more  than  I 
can  tell,  that  you  may  fall  an  easy 
prey  to  some  champion  of  heretical 
error,  and  give  ready  ear  to  the  flat- 
tering schemes  of  the  worshippers  of 
intellect ;  and  that  thus  a  mortal  blight 
shall  desecrate  the  buds  of  early  pro- 
mise, and  eternity  frown  on  you  with 
all  the  chccrlessness  Avhich  it  wears  to 
those  who  despise  the  blood  of  atone- 
ment, and  you — the   children,  it   may 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRirXURE. 


137 


bo,  of  pious  parents,  over  whose  in- 
fancy a  godly  father  hath  watched, 
and  whose  young  years  have  been 
guarded  by  the  tender  solicitudes  of 
a  righteous  mother — you  may  win  to 
yourselves  a  heritage  of  shame  and 
confusion,  and  go  down,  at  the  judg- 
ment, into  the  pit  of  the  unbelieving 
and  scornful.  Better,  infinitely  better 
would  it  have  been,  that  your  parents 
had  seen  you  coffined  and  sepulchred, 
ere  as  yet  ye  knew  evil  from  good, 
than  that  they  should  have  nursed  you, 
and  nurtured  you,  to  swell,  in  latter 
days,  the  ranks  of  the  apostate.  Be 
admonisiied,  by  the  subject  which  we 
have  this  night  discussed,  to  distrust 
yourselves,  and  to  depend  on  a  higher 
teaching  than  human.  Difficulties  there 
are  in  the  Bible  :  but  they  ought  rather 
to  assure,  than  make  you  doubtful  of, 
the  divinity  of  its  origin.  And  if  you 
are  assailed  with  sceptical  objections 
which  you  are  unable  to  answer,  have 
the  candor  and  modesty  to  suspect 
that  a  straight-forward  and  sufficient 
answer  there  may  be,  though  you  have 
not  the  penetration  to  discover  it. 
Lay  not  the  blame  on  the  deficiencies 
of  Christianity,  when  it  may  possibly 
lie  in  the  deficiencies  of  your  own  in- 
formation. The  argument  was  never 
framed  against  the  truth  of  our  reli- 
gion, which  has  not  been  completely 
taken  off,  and  triumphantly  refuted. 
Hesitate,  therefore,  before  you  con- 
clude a  sceptic  in  the  right,  just  be- 
cause you  are  not  able  to  prove  him  in 
tlie  wrong.  We  give  you  this  advice, 
simply  and  aflectionately.  We  see 
your  danger,  and  we  long  for  your 
souls.  Bear  with  us  yet  a  moment. 
We  would  not  weary  you  :  but  speak- 
ing on  the  topic  of  "  things  hard  to 
be  understood,"  we  feel  compelled  to 
dwell,  at  some  length,  on  the  scepti- 
cism of  the  age.  I  can  never  dare 
answer,  when  I  stand  up  in  this  holy 
place,  and  speak  to  you  on  the  truths 
of  our  religion,  that  1  address  not  some 
v'ho  throw  on  these  truths  habitual 
contempt,  who  count  Christianity  the 
plaything  of,  children,  invented  by  im- 
posture, and  cradled  in  ignorance. 
And  if  I  knew  that  even  now  there 
were  such  amongst  you  ;  if  they  were 
pointed  out  to  me,  so  that  I  might 
stand  fjice  to  face  with  the  despisers 
of  our  Lord — the   thunder,  the   sack- 1 


cloth  of  hair,  the  worm  that  dies  not, 
the  fire  that  is  not  quenched — should 
I  array  against  them  these  terrible 
things,  and  turn  upon  them  the  bat- 
tery of  the  denunciations  of  God's 
wrath  1  Alas,  alas,  I  should  have  no 
moral  hold  on  them  with  all  this  ap- 
paratus of  wo  and  destruction.  They 
might  wrap  themselves  up  in  their 
scepticism.  They  might  tell  me  they 
had  read  too  much,  and  learned  too 
much,  to  be  scared  by  the  trickeries 
of  priestcraft  :  and  thus,  by  denying 
the  authority  of  Scripture,  they  would 
virtually  blunt  all  my  weapons  of  at- 
tack, and  show  themselves  invulner- 
able, because  they  had  made  them- 
selves insensible.  There  is  nothing 
that  the  minister  could  do,  save  that 
which  Elisha  the  prophet  did,  when 
speaking  with  Hazael :  "  he  settled 
his  countenance  steadfastly,  until  he 
was  ashamed:  and  the  man  of  God 
wept."  2  Kings,  8  :  10.  Who  could 
do  otherwise  than  weep  over  the  spec- 
tacle of  talents,  and  hopes,  and  allec- 
tions,  tainted  with  the  leprous  spots 
of  moral  decay,  the  spectacle  of  a 
blighted  immortality,  the  spectacle — 
a  glimpse  of  which  must  almost  con- 
vulse with  amazement  the  glorious 
ranks  of  the  celestial  world — that  of 
a  being  whom  Christ  purchased  with 
his  blood,  who!n  the  Almiglity  hath  in- 
vited, yea  besought,  to  have  mercy 
upon  himself,  turning  into  jest  the 
messages  of  the  Gospel,  denying  the 
divinity  of  the  Lord  his  Redeemer,  or 
building  up,  with  the  shreds  and  frag- 
ments of  human  reason,  a  baseless 
structure,  which,  like  the  palace  of  ice, 
shall  resolve  itself  suddenly  into  a  tu- 
multuous flood,  bearing  away  the  in- 
habitant, a  struggling  thing,  but  a  lostl 
Yea,  if  I  knew  there  were  one  amongst 
you  who  had  surrendered  himself  to 
the  lies  of  an  ensnaring  philosophy, 
then,  although  I  should  feel,  that,  per- 
haps even  whilst  I  speak,  he  is  pitying 
my  credulity,  or  ridiculing  my  fanati- 
cism, I  would  not  sutler  him  to  de- 
part without  calling  on  the  congrega- 
tion to  baptize  him,  as  it  were,  with 
their  tears ;  and  he  should  be  singled 
out — oh,  not  for  rebuke,  not  for  con- 
tempt, not  for  anger — but  as  more  de- 
serving to  be  wept  over  and  wailed  over 
than  the  poorest  child  of  human  ca- 
lamity, more  worthy  of  the  agonies  of 
18 


138 


THE    DIFFICULTIES    OF    SCRIPTURE. 


mortal  sympathy  than  he  who  eats  the 
bitterest  bread  of  affliction,  and  in 
whose  ear  ring  mournfully  the  sleep- 
less echoes  of  a  funeral  bell.  Yea,  and 
he  should  not  leave  the  sanctuary  till 
we  had  told  him,  that,  though  there  be 
in  the  Bible  "  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood," there  is  one  thing  beautifully 
plain,  and  touchingly  simple :  and  that 
is,  that  "  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  us  from  all  sin."  1  John,  1 : 
7.  So  that  it  is  not  yet  too  late  :  the 
blasphemer,  the  scorner,  the  infidel — 
oh,  the  fire  is  not  yet  falling,  and  the 
earth  is  not  yet  opening — let  him  turn 
unto  the  Lord,  and  confess  his  iniqui- 
ty, and  cry  for  pardon,  and  a  sweep  of 
joy  from  the  angels'  harp-strings  shall 
tell  out  the  astounding  fact,  that  he  is 
no  longer  a  stranger  and  foreigner,  but 
a  fellow-citizen  with  the  saints,  and  of 
the  household  of  God. 

But  Ave  hasten  to  a  conclusion.  We 
again  press  upon  all  of  you  the  impor- 
tance of  reading  the  Bible  with  prayer. 
And  whilst  the  consciousness  that 
Scripture  contains  "  things  hard  to  be 
understood"  should  bring  us  to  its  stu- 
dy in  a  dependent  and  humble  temper, 
the  thought,  that  what  we  know  not 
now  we  shall  know  hereafter,  should 
make  each  difficulty,  as  we  leave  it  un- 


vanquished,  minister  to  our  assurance 
that  a  wider  sphere  of  being,  a  nearer 
vision,  and  mightier  faculties,  await 
us  when  the  second  advent  of  the  Lord 
winds  up  the  dispensation.  Thus  should 
the  mysteries  of  the  Bible  teach  us,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  our  nothing- 
ness, and  our  greatness  ;  producing  hu- 
mility, and  animating  hope.  I  bow  be- 
fore these  mysteries.  I  knew  that  I 
should  find,  and  I  pretend  not  to  re- 
move, them.  But  whilst  I  thus  pros- 
trate myself,  it  is  with  deep  gladness 
and  exultation  of  spirit.  God  would  not  « 
have  hinted  the  mystery,  had  he  not  I 
designed  hereafter  to  explain.  And, 
therefore,  are  my  thoughts  on  a  far-off 
home,  and  rich  things  are  around  me, 
and  the  voices  of  many  harpers,  and  the 
shinings  of  bright  constellations,  and 
the  clusters  of  the  cherub  and  the  ser- 
aph ;  and  a  whisper,  which  seems  not 
of  this  earth,  is  circulating  through  the 
soul,  "  Now  we  see  through  a  glass 
darkly,  but  then  face  to  face  ;  now  I 
know  in  part,  but  then  shall  I  know 
even  as  also  I  am  known."  1  Cor.  13  : 
12.  May  God  grant  unto  all  of  us  to 
be  both  abased  and  quickened  by  those 
things  in  the  Bible  which  are  ''  hard  to 
be  understood." 


SERMONS  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE. 

February,   1836. 


The  Author  begs  to  state  that  he  prints  these  Sermons  in  compliance  with  the  wish  of  many 
Members  of  the  University,  Immediately  after  their  delivery  he  received  an  address  from  the  resi- 
dent Bachelors  and  Undergraduates,  headed  by  the  most  distinguished  names,  and  numerously  signed, 
requesting  their  publication.  The  same  request  was  also  made  from  other  quarters.  Under  these 
circumstances  the  Author  felt  that  he  had  nothing  to  do,  but  to  regret  that  the  Sermons  were  not 
more  deserving  of  the  interest  thus  kindly  manifested,  and  to  commit  them  at  once  to  the  press. 

Ca.mberwell,  March  10,  1836. 


SERMON    I. 


THE  GREATNESS  AND  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 


Thy  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and  thy  dominion  endureth  throughout  all  generations. 
The  Lord  upholdeth  all  that  fall,  and  lifteth  up  all  those  that  be  bowed  down." — Psalm  145  : 
13,  14. 


What  we  admire  in  these  verses,  is 
their   combining  the    magnificence    of 
unlimited  power  with  the  assiduity  of 
unlimited  tenderness.     It  is  this  com- 
bination which  men  are  apt  to  regard 
as  well-nigh  incredible,  supposing  that 
a  Being  so  great  as  God  can  never  con- 
cern himself  with  beings  so  inconsid- 
erable as  themselves.    Tell  them  that 
God  lifteth  up  those   that  be   bowed 
down,  and  they  cannot  imagine  that  his 
kingdom  and  dominion  are  unbounded  ; 
— or  tell  them,  on  the  other  hand,  of  j 
the  greatness  of  his  empire,  and  they  i 
think  it  impossible  that  he  should  up-  ! 
hold  all  that  fall.    If  you  represent  Dei-  \ 
ty  as  busied  with  what  they  reckon  in-  • 
significant,  the  rapid  impression  is,  that  j 
he  cannot,  at  the  same  time,  be  equally  ! 
attentive  to  what  is  vast ;  and  if  you  | 
exhibit  him  as  occupied  with  what  is 
vast,  there  is  a  sudden  misgiving  that  | 
the  insignificant  must  escape  his  obser-  \ 
vation.    And  it  is  of  great  importance,  i 


that  men  be  taught  to  view  in  God  that 
combination  of  properties  which  is  af- 
firmed in  our  text.  It  is  certain  that 
the  greatness  of  God  is  often  turned 
into  an  argument,  by  which  men  would 
bring  doubt  on  the  truths  of  Redemp- 
tion and  Providence.  The  unmeasured 
inferiority  of  man  to  his  Maker  is  used 
in  proof,  that  so  costly  a  work  as  that 
of  Redemption  can  never  have  been 
executed  on  our  behalf;  and  that  so 
unwearied  a  watchfulness  as  that  of 
Providence  can  never  be  engaged  in 
our  service.  Whereas,  no  reason  what- 
ever can  be  derived  from  our  confessed 
insignificance,  against  our  being  the 
objects  Avhether  of  Redemption  or  of 
Providence — seeing  it  is  equally  cha- 
racteristic of  Deity,  to  attend  to  the 
inconsiderable  and  to  the  great,  to  ex- 
tend his  dominion  throughout  all  gene- 
rations, and  to  lift  up  those  that  be 
bowed  down. 

It  is  on  this  truth  we  would  employ 


140 


THE    GREATNESS    AND    CONDESCENSION    OF    GOD. 


our  present  discourse,  endeavoring  to  j  can  be  nothing  fairer  than  the  expect- 
prove,  that  human  insignilicauce,  as  set  ation,  that  he  Avould  provide  for  our 
in  contrast  with  divine  greatness,  fur-  '  well-being  as  moral  and  accountable 
nishes  no  aro-ument  agninst  the  doc-  j  creatures,  with  a  care  at  least  equal  to 
trine  of  our  Redemption,  and  none  !  that  exhibited  towards  us  in  our  natu- 
against  that  of  an  universal  Providence.  ,  ral  capacity.  So  that  it  is  perfectly  cre- 
"Now  a  man  will  consider  the  hea-  |  dible  that  God  would  do  something  on 
vens,  the  work  of  God's  fingers,  the  I  behalf  of  the  fallen  ;  and  then  the  ques- 
moon  and  the  stars  which  he  hath  or-  tion  is,  whether  any  thing  less  than 
dained,  and  he  \v\\\  perceive  that  the  j  Redemption  through  Christ  would  be 
earth  on  which  we  dwell  is  but  the  soli-  of  worth  and  of  efficacy  1  It  is  cer- 
tary  unit  of  an  innumerable  multitude.  |  tain  that  we  cannot  conceive  any  pos- 
it appears  to  him  as  though,  if  this  j  sible  mode,  except  the  revealed  mode 
globe  were  suddenly  annihilated,  it  through  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  in 
would  scarcely  be  missed  from  the  fir-  which  God  could  be  both  just  and  the 
mament,  and  leave  no  felt  vacancy  in  \  justifier  of  sinners.  Reckon  and  reason 
the  still  crowded  fields  of  the  heavens,  as  we  will,  we  can  sketch  out  no  plan 
And  if  our  earth  be  thus  so  insignifi-  j  by  which  transgressors  might  be  saved, 
cant  an  unit  that  its  abstraction  would    the  divine  attributes  honored,  and  yet 


not  disturb  the  splendors  and  harmo- 
nies of  the  universe,  how  shall  we  think 
that  God  hath  done  so  wondrous  a  thing 
for  its  inhabitants  as  to  send  his  own 
Son  to  die  in  their  stead  1  Thus  an  ar- 
gument is  attempted  to  be  drawn  from 
the  insignificance  of  man  to  the  im- 
probability of  Redemption  ;  one  verse 
of  our  text  is  set  against  the  other; 


Christ  not  have  died.  So  far  as  v.^e 
have  the  power  of  ascertaining,  man 
must  have  remained  unredeemed,  had 
he  not  been  redeemed  through  the  In- 
carnation and  Crucifixion.  And  if  it  be 
credible  that  God  would  eflectively  in- 
terpose on  man's  behalf;  and  if  the 
only  discoverable  method  in  which  he 
could   thus   interpose,  be  that  of  Ro 


and  the  confessed  fact,  that  God's  do-  '  demption  through  the  sacrifice   of  his 


minion  is  throughout  all  generations, 
is  opposed  to  the  alleged  fact,  that  he 
gave  his  own  Son  that  he  might  lift  up 
the  fallen. 

But  it  ought  at  least  to  be  remem- 
bered that  man  was  God's  workman- 
ship, made  after  his  image,  and  endow- 
ed with  powers  which  fitted  him  for 
lofty  pursuits.  The  human  race  may 
or  may  not  be  insignificant.  We  know 
nothing  of  the  orders  of  intelligence 
which  stretch  upwards  between  our- 
selves and  God  ;  and  we  are  therefore 
incompetent  to  decide  what  place  we 
occupy  in  the  scale  of  creation.  But 
at  the  least  we  know,  independently  of 
Revelation,  that  a  magnificent  scene 
was  appointed  for  .our  dwelling  ;  and 
that,  when  God  reared  a  home  for 
man,  he  built  it  of  the  sublime  and 
the  beautiful,  and  lavished  alike  his 
might  and  his  skill  on  the  furniture  of 
its  chambers.  No  one  can  survey  the 
works  of  nature,  and  not  perceive  that 
God  has  some  regard  for  the  children 
of  men,  however  fallen  and  polluted 
they  may  be.  And  if  God  manifest  a 
regard  for  us  in  temporal  things,  it 
must  be  far  from  incredible  that  he 
Avould  do  the  same  in  spiritual.    There 


Son  ;  what  becomes  of  the  alleged  in- 
credibility, founded  on  the  greatness 
of  God  as  contrasted  with  the  insigni- 
ficance of  man  %  We  do  not  depreciate 
the  wonders  of  the  interference.  We 
will  go  all  lengths  in  proclaiming  it 
a  prodigy  which  confounds  the  most 
masterful,  and  in  pronouncing  it  a  mj^^s- 
tery  whose  depths  not  even  angels 
can  fathom,  that,  for  the  sake  of  be- 
ings inconsiderable  as  ourselves,  there 
should  have  been  acted  out  an  arrange- 
ment which  brought  Godhead  into 
flesh,  and  gave  up  the  Creator  to  igno- 
miny and  death.  But  the  greatness  of 
the  wonder  furnishes  no  just  ground 
for  its  disbelief.  There  can  be  no 
weight  in  the  reasoning,  that  because 
man  is  so  low  and  God  so  high,  no 
such  work  can  have  been  wrought  as 
the  Redemption  of  our  race.  We  are 
certain  that  we  are  cared  for  in  our 
temporal  capacity  ;  and  we  conclude, 
therefore,  that  we  cannot  have  been 
neglected  in  our  eternal.  And  then — 
finding  that,  unless  redeemed  through 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  there  is  no  sup- 
posable  method  of  human  deliverance 
— it  is  not  the  brightness  of  the  moon 
as  she  travels  in  her  lustre,  and  it  is 


THE    GREATNESS    AND    CONDESCENSION    OF    GOD. 


141 


Dot  the  array  of  stars  which  are  mar- 
shalled on  the  iirinament,  that  shall 
make  us  deem  it  incredible  that  God 
would  give  his  Son  for  our  rescue  : 
rather,  since  moon  and  stars  light  up 
man's  home,  they  shall  do  nothing  but 
assure  us  of  the  Creator's  loving-kind- 
ness ;  and  thus  render  it  a  thing  to  be 
believed — though  still  amazing,  still 
stupendous — that  He  whose  kingdom 
is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and  whose 
dominion  endureth  throughout  all  gen- 
erations, should  have  made  himself  to 
be  sin  for  us,  that  He  might  uphold  all 
that  fall,  and  lift  up  all  those  that  be 
bowed  down. 

But  it  is  in  regard  to  the  doctrine  of 
an  universal  Providence  that  men  are 
most  ready  to  raise  objections,  from 
the  greatness  of  God  as  contrasted 
with  their  own  insignificance.  They 
cannot  believe,  that  he  who  is  so  migh- 
ty as  to  rule  the  heavenly  hosts  can 
condescend  to  notice  the  wants  of  the 
meanest  of  his  creatures  ;  and  thus  they 
deny  to  him  the  combination  of  pro- 
perties asserted  in  our  text,  that,  whilst 
possessed  of  unlimited  empire,  he  sus- 
tains the  feeble  and  raises  the  prostrate. 
We  shall  not  stay  to  expose  the 
falseness  of  an  opinion  which  has 
sometimes  found  advocates,  that,  hav- 
ing created  this  world,  God  left  it  to 
itself,  and  bestows  no  thought  on  its 
concerns.  But  whilst  few  would  hold 
the  opinion  in  the  extent  thus  announ- 
ced, many  would  limit  the  divine  Pro- 
vidence, and  thus  take  from  the  doc- 
trine its  great  beauty  and  comfort.  It 
is  easy  and  common  to  represent  it  as 
incompatible  with  the  confessed  gran- 
deur of  our  Maker,  that  he  should  busy 
himself  with  the  concerns  of  the  poor- 
est of  his  creatures:  but  such  reason- 
ing betrays  ignorance  as  to  what  it  is 
in  which  greatness  consists.  It  may  be 
that,  amongst  finite  beings,  it  is  not 
easy,  and  perhaps  not  possible,  that 
attention  to  what  is  minute,  or  compa- 
ratively unimportant,  should  be  com- 
bined with  attention  to  things  of  vast 
moment.  But  we  never  reckon  it  an 
excellence  that  there  is  not,  or  cannot 
be,  this  union.  On  the  contrary,  we 
should  declare  that  man  at  the  very 
summit  of  true  greatness,  who  proved 
himself  able  to  unite  what  had  seemed 
incompatible.  If  a  man,  for  example,  be 
a  great  statesman,  and  the  management 


of  a  vast  empire  be  delivered  into  his 
hands,  we  can  scarcely  expect  that, 
amid  the  multiplicity  of  mighty  aflairs 
which  solicit  his  attention,  he  should 
find  time  for  the  duties  of  more  ordi- 
nary life.  We  feel  that,  engrossed  with 
occupations  of  overwhelming  import- 
ance, it  is  hardly  possible  that  he 
should  be  assiduous  in  the  instruction 
of  his  children,  or  the  inspection  of  his 
servants,  or  the  visiting  and  relieving 
his  distressed  fellow-men.  But  we  ne- 
ver feel  that  his  greatness  would  be 
diminished,  if  he  were  thus  assiduous. 
We  are  ready,  on  the  contrary,  to  ad- 
mit that  we  should  give  him,  in  a 
higher  degree  than  ever,  our  respect 
and  admiration,  if  we  knew  that,  whilst 
he  had  his  eye  on  every  wheel  in  the 
machinery  of  government,  and  his 
comprehensive  mind  included  all  that 
had  a  bearing  on  the  well-being  of  the 
empire,  he  discharged  with  exemplary 
fidelity  every  relative  duty,  and  enter- 
ed with  as  much  assiduousness  into  all 
that  concerned  his  neighbors  and  de- 
pendents, as  though  he  had  not  to  ex- 
tend his  carefulness  over  the  thousand 
departments  of  a  complicated  system. 
What  would  be  thought  of  that  man's 
estimate  of  greatness,  who  should 
reckon  it  derogatory  to  the  statesman 
that  he  thus  combined  attention  to  the 
inconsiderable  with  attention  to  the 
stupendous  ;  and  who  should  count  it 
inconsistent  with  the  loftiness  of  his 
station,  that,  amid  duties  as  arduous  as 
faithfully  discharged,  he  had  an  ear  for 
the  prattle  of  his  children,  and  an  eye 
for  the  interests  of  the  friendless,  and 
a  heart  for  the  suflerings  of  the  desti- 
tute 1  Would  there  not  be  a  feelino- 
mounting  almost  to  veneration,  to- 
wards the  ruler  who  should  prove  him- 
self equal  to  the  superintending  every 
concern  of  an  empire,  and  who  could 
yet  give  a  personal  attention  to  the 
wants  of  many  of  the  poorest  of  its 
families  ;  and  who,  whilst  gatherino- 
within  the  compass  of  an  ample  in- 
telligence every  question  of  foreign 
and  home  policy,  protecting  the  com- 
merce, maintaining  the  honor,  and  fos- 
tering the  institutions  of  the  state, 
could  minister  tenderly  at  the  bedside 
of  sickness,  and  hearken  patiently 
to  the  tale  of  calamity,  and  be  as  ac- 
tive for  the  widow  and  the  orphan,  as 
though  his  whole  business  were  to  light- 


142 


THE    GREATNESS   AND    CONDESCENSION    OF    GOD. 


en  the  pressure  of  domestic  affliction  % 
We  can  appeal,  then,  to  your  own 
notions  of  true  greatness,  for  a  refuta- 
tion of  the  common  arguments  against 
the  Providence  of  God.  We  know  not 
why  that  should  be  derogatory  to  the 
majesty  of  the  Ruler  of  the  universe, 
which,  by  the  general  confession,  would 
add  immeasurably  to  the  majesty  of 
one  of  the  earth's  potentates.  And  if 
we  should  rise  in  our  admiration  and 
applause  of  a  statesman,  or  sovereign, 
in  proportion  as  he  showed  himself  ca- 
pable of  attending  to  things  compara- 
tively pet'ty  and  insignificant,  without 
negflectinsf  the  grrand  and  momentous, 
certainly  we  are  bound  to  apply  the 
same  principle  to  our  Maker — to  own 
it,  that  is,  essential  to  his  greatness, 
that,  whilst  marshalling  planets  and 
ordering  the  motions  of  all  worlds 
throughout  the  sweep  of  immensity, 
he  should  yet  feed  "  the  young  ravens 
that  call  upon  him,"  and  number  the 
very  hairs  of  our  heads;  essential,  in 
short,  that,  whilst  his  kingdom  is  an 
everlasting  kingdom,  and  his  dominion 
endureth  throughout  all  generations, 
he  should  uphold  all  that  fall,  and  raise 
up  those  that  are  bowed  down. 

We  would  add  to  this,  that  objections 
against  the  doctrine  of  God's  provi- 
dence are  virtually  objections  against 
the  great  truths  of  creation.  Are  we 
to  suppose  that  this  or  that  ephemeral 
thing,  the  tiny  tenant  of  a  leaf  or  a  bub- 
ble, is  too  insignificant  to  be  observed 
by  God  ;  and  that  it  is  absurd  to  think 
that  the  animated  point,  whose  exist- 
ence is  a  second,  occupies  any  por- 
tion of  those  inspections  which  have  to 
spread  themselves  over  the  revolutions 
of  planets,  and  the  movements  of  an- 
gels I  Then  to  what  authorship  are  we 
to  refer  this  ephemeral  thing?  We  sub- 
ject it  to  the  powers  of  the  microscope, 
and  are  amazed,  perhaps,  at  observing  its 
exquisite  symmetries  and  adornments, 
Avith  what  skill  it  has  been  fashioned, 
with  what  glory  it  has  been  clothed  : 
but  we  find  it  said  that  it  is  dishonor- 
ing to  God  to  suppose  him  careful  or 
observant  of  this  insect ;  and  then  our 
difficulty  is,  who  made,  who  created 
this  insect  1  I  know  not  what  there  can 
be  too  inconsiderable  for  the  provi- 
dence, if  it  have  not  been  too  inconsi- 
derable for  the  creation,  of  God.  What 
it  was  not  unworthy  of  God  to  form,  it 


cannot  be  unworthy  of  God  to  preserve. 
Why  declare  any  thing  excluded  by  its 
insignificance  from  his  watchfulness, 
which  could  not  have  been  produced 
but  by  his  power  1  Thus  the  universal 
Providence  of  God  is  little  more  than 
an  inference  from  the  truth  of  his  be- 
ing the  universal  Creator.  And  men 
may  speak  of  the  littleness  of  this  or 
that  creature,  and  ask  how  we  can  be- 
lieve that  the  animalcule,  scarce  per- 
ceptible as  it  floats  by  us  on  the  even- 
ing breeze,  is  observed  and  cared  for 
by  that  Being,  inaccessible  in  his  sub- 
limity, who  "  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of 
the  earth,  and  the  inhabitants  thereof 
are  as  grasshoppers:"  but  we  ask  in 
reply,  whether  or  no  it  be  God  who 
gave  its  substance  and  animation  to 
this  almost  invisible  atom  ;  and  unless 
they  can  point  out  to  us  another  crea- 
tor, we  shall  hold  that  it  must  be  every 
way  worthy  of  God,  that  he  should  turn 
all  the  watchfulness  of  a  guardian  on 
the  work  of  his  own  hands — for  it  can- 
not be  more  true,  that,  as  universal 
Creator,  he  has  such  power  that  his 
dominion  endureth  throughout  all  ge- 
nerations, than  that,  as  universal  sus- 
tainer,  he  has  such  carefulness  for  what- 
ever he  hath  formed,  that  he  upholdeth 
them  that  fall,  and  raiseth  up  all  that 
are  bowed  down. 

But  up  to  this  point,  we  have  been 
rather  engaged  with  removing  objec- 
tions against  the  doctrine  of  God's  pro- 
vidence, than  with  examining  that  doc- 
trine, as  it  may  be  derived  from  our 
text.  In  regard  to  the  doctrine  itself, 
it  is  evident  that  nothing  can  happen 
in  any  spot  of  the  universe  which  is 
not  known  to  him  who  is  emphatically 
the  Omniscient.  But  it  is  far  more 
than  the  inspection  of  an  ever-vigilant 
observer  which  God  throws  over  the 
concerns  of  creation.  It  is  not  merely 
that  nothing  can  occur  without  the 
knowledge  of  our  Maker:  it  is  that  no- 
thing can  occur,  but  by  either  his  ap- 
pointment or  permission.  We  say  ei- 
ther his  appointment  or  permission — 
for  we  know,  that,  whilst  he  ordereth 
all  things,  both  in  heaven  and  earth, 
there  is  much  which  he  allows  to  be 
done,  but  which  cannot  be  referred  di- 
rectly to  his  authorship.  It  is  in  this 
sense  that  his  Providence  has  to  do 
with  what  is  evil,  overruling  it  so  that 
it  becomes  subservient  to  the  march  of 


THE    GREATNESS    AND    CONDESCENSION    OF    GOD. 


143 


his  purposes.  The  power  that  is  ex- 
erted over  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  is 
exerted  also  over  the  more  boisterous 
waves  of  rebellion  and  crime ;  and 
God  saith  to  the  one,  as  to  the  other, 
"  hitherto  shall  ye  come  and  no  fur- 
ther." And  as  to  actions  and  occur- 
rences of  an  opposite  description,  such  ; 
as  are  to  be  reckoned  good  and  not  I 
evil — can  it  be  denied  that  Providence  i 
extends  to  all  these,  and  is  intimately  j 
concerned  with  their  production  and 
performance  1  It  must  ever  be  remem- 
bered that  God  is  the  first  cause,  and 
that  upon  the  first  all  secondary  de- 
pend. We  are  apt  to  forget  this,  though 
unquestionably  a  self-evident  principle, 
and  then  we  easily  lose  ourselves  in  a 
wide  labyrinth,  and  are  perplexed  by 
the  multiplicities  of  agency  with  which 
we  seem  surrounded. 

But  how  beautifully  simple  does  eve- 
ry thing  appear,  when  we  trace  one 
hand  in  all  that  occurs.  And  this  we 
are  bound  to  do,  if  we  would  allow  its 
full  range  to  the  doctrine  of  God's  pro- 
vidence. It  is  God  whose  energies  are 
extended  through  earth,  and  sea,  and 
air,  causing  those  unnumbered  and  be- 
neficial results  which  we  ascribe  to  na- 
ture. It  is  God  by  whom  all  those  con- 
tingencies which  seem  to  us  fortuitous 
and  casual  are  directed,  so  that  events, 
brought  round  by  what  men  count  ac- 
cident, proceed  from  divine,  and  there- 
fore irreversible  appointment.  It  is 
God  by  whom  the  human  will  is  secret- 
ly inclined  towards  righteousness  ;  and 
thus  there  is  not  wrought  a  single  ac- 
tion such  as  God  can  approve,  to  whose 
performance  God  hath  not  instigated. 
It  is  God  from  whom  come  those  many 
interpositions,  which  every  one  has  to 
remark  in  the  course  of  a  long  life, 
when  dangers  are  averted,  fears  dis- 
persed, and  sorrows  removed.  It  is 
God,  who,  acting  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  various,  and,  to  all  appear- 
ance, conflicting  causes,  keeps  together 
the  discordant  elements  of  society,  and 
prevents  the  whole  frame-work  of  civil 
institutions  from  being  rapidly  dislo- 
cated. It  is  God — but  why  attempt  to 
enumerate  ?  Where  is  the  creature 
which  God  does  not  sustain!  where  is 
the  solitude  which  God  does  not  fiUl 
where  is  the  want  which  God  does  not 
supply  1  where  is  the  motion  which 
God  does  not  direct  1  where  is  the  ac- 


tion which  God  does  not  overrule  1  If, 
according  to  the  words  of  the  Psalmist, 
we  could  ascend  up  to  heaven,  and 
make  our  bed  in  hell  5  if  we  could  take 
the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea ;  in  all 
this  enormous  travel,  in  this  journey 
across  the  fields  of  unlimited  space,  we 
could  never  reach  the  loneliest  spot 
at  which  Deity  Avas  not  present  as  an 
upholder  and  guardian  ;  never  find  the 
lonely  world,  no,  nor  the  lonely  scene 
on  any  one  of  those  globes  with  which 
immensity  is  strewed,  which  was  not  as 
strictly  watched  by  the  ever-wakeful 
eye  of  Omniscience,  as  though  every 
where  else  the  vmiverse  were  a  void, 
and  this  the  alone  home  of  life  and  in- 
telligence. We  have  an  assurance 
which  nothing  can  shake,  because  de- 
rived from  the  confessed  nature  of 
Godhead,  that,  in  all  the  greatness  of 
his  Almightiness,  our  Maker  is  perpe- 
tually passing  from  star  to  star,  and  from 
system  to  system,  that  he  may  observe 
what  is  needed  by  every  order  of  be- 
ing, and  minister  supply — and  yet  not 
passing  ;  for  he  is  always  present,  pre- 
sent as  much  at  one  moment  as  at  an- 
other, and  in  one  world  as  in  another 
immeasurably  distant ;  and  covering 
with  the  wing  of  his  Providence  what- 
ever he  hath  formed,  and  whatever  he 
hath  animated. 

And  if  we  bring  our  thoughts  with- 
in narrower  compass,  and  confine 
them  to  the  world  appointed  for  men's 
dwelling,  it  is  a  beautiful  truth  that 
there  cannot  be  the  creature  so  insig- 
nificant, the  care  so  inconsiderable, 
the  action  so  unimportant,  as  to  be 
overlooked  by  Him  from  whom  we 
draw  being.  I  know  that  it  is  not  the 
monarch  alone,  at  the  head  of  his 
tribes  and  provinces,  who  is  observed 
by  the  Almighty;  and  that  it  is  not 
only  at  some  great  crisis  in  life,  that 
an  individual  becomes  an  object  of 
the  attention  of  his  Maker.  I  know  ra- 
ther that  the  poorest,  the  meanest,  the 
most  despised,  shares  with  the  mon- 
arch the  notice  of  the  universal  Pro- 
tector ;  and  that  this  notice  is  so  un- 
wearied and  incessant,  that  when  he 
goes  to  his  daily  toil  or  his  daily  pray- 
er, Avhen  he  lies  down  at  night,  or 
rises  in  the  morning,  or  gathers  his 
little  ones  to  the  scanty  meal,  the 
poor  m.an  is  tenderly  watched  by  his 


Ui> 


THE    GREATNESS    AND    CONDESCENSION    OF    GOD. 


God ;  and  he  cannot  weep  the  tear 
which  God  sees  not,  nor  smile  the 
smile  which  God  notes  not,  nor 
breathe  the  wish  which  God  hears  not. 
The  man  indeed  of  exalted  rank,  on 
whom  may  depend  the  movements  of 
an  empire,  is  regarded,  with  a  vigi- 
lance which  never  knows  suspense, 
by  Him  "  who  giveth  salvation  unto 
kings;"  and  the  Lord,  "to  whom  be- 
long the  shields  of  the  earth,"  bestows 
on  this  man  whatever  wisdom  he  dis- 
plays, and  whatever  strength  he  puts 
forth,  and  whatever  success  he  attains. 
But  the  carefulness  of  Deity  is  in  no 
sense  engrossed  by  the  distinguish- 
ed individual  ;  but,  just  as  the  regards 
which  are  turned  on  this  earth  inter- 
fere not  with  those  which  pour  them- 
selves over  far-oft'  planets  and  distant 
systems,  so,  whilst  the  chieftain  is  ob- 
served and  attended  with  the  assidu- 
ousness of  what  might  seem  an  undivi- 
ded guardianship,  the  very  beggar  is  as 
much  the  object  of  divine  inspection 
and  succor,  as  though,  in  the  broad 
sweep  of  animated  being,  there  were 
no  other  to  need  the  sustaining  arm  of 
the  Creator. 

And  this  is  what  we  understand  by 
the  providence  of  the  Almighty,  We 
believe  of  this  providence  that  it  ex- 
tends itself  to  every  household,  and 
throws  itself  round  every  individual, 
and  takes  part  in  every  business,  and 
is  concerned  with  every  sorrow,  and 
accessory  to  every  joy.  We  believe 
that  it  encircles  equally  the  palace  and 
the  cottage ;  guiding  and  upholding 
alike  the  poor  and  the  rich  ;  minister- 
ing to  the  king  in  his  councils,  and  to 
the  merchant  in  his  commerce,  and  to 
the  scholar  in  his  study,  and  to  the 
laborer  in  his  husbandry — so  that, 
whatever  my  rank  and  occupation,  at 
no  moment  am  I  withdrawn  from  the 
eye  of  Deity,  in  no  lawful  endeavor  am 
I  left  to  myself,  in  no  secret  anxiety 
have  I  only  my  own  heart  with  which 
I  may  commune.  Oh  !  it  were  to  take 
from  God  all  that  is  most  encouraging 
in  his  attributes  and  prerogatives,  if 
you  could  throw  doubt  on  this  doctrine 
of  his  universal  providence.  It  is  an 
august  contemplation,  that  of  the  Al- 
mighty as  the  architect  of  creation, 
filling  the  vast  void  with  magnificent 
structures.  We  are  presently  confound- 
ed   when    bidden   to   meditate   on   the 


eternity  of  the  Most  High  :  for  it  is  an 
overwhelming  truth,  that  he  who  gave 
beginning  to  all  besides  could  have  had 
no  beginning  himself.  And  there  are 
other  characteristics  and  properties  of 
Deity,  whose  very  mention  excites  awe, 
and  on  which  the  best  eloquence  is  si- 
lence. But  whilst  the  universal  provi- 
dence of  God  is  to  the  full  as  incom- 
prehensible as  aught  else  which  apper- 
tains to  Divinity,  there  is  nothing  in  it 
but  what  commends  itself  to  the  warm- 
est feelings  of  our  nature.  And  we 
seem  to  have  drawn  a  picture  which  is 
calculated  equally  to  raise  astonish- 
ment and  delight,  to  produce  the  deep- 
est reverence  and  yet  the  fullest  confi- 
dence, when  we  have  represented  God 
as  superintending  whatever  occurs  in 
his  infinite  domain — guiding  the  roll  of 
every  planet,  and  the  rush  of  every 
cataract,  and  the  gathering  of  every 
cloud,  and  the  motion  of  every  will — 
and  when,  in  order  that  the  delineation 
may  have  all  that  exquisiteness  which 
is  only  to  be  obtained  from  those  home- 
touches  which  assure  us  that  we  have 
ourselves  an  interest  in  what  is  so  splen- 
did and  surprising,  we  add,  that  he  is 
with  the  sick  man  on  his  pallet,  and 
with  the  seaman  in  his  danger,  and 
with  the  widow  in  her  agony.  And 
what,  after  all,  is  this  combination  but 
that  presented  by  our  text  1  If  I  would 
exhibit  God  as  so  attending  to  what 
is  mighty  as  not  to  overlook  what  is 
mean,  what  better  can  I  do  than  declare 
him  mustering  around  him  the  vast 
army  of  suns  and  constellations,  and 
all  the  while  hearkening  to  every  cry 
which  goes  up  from  an  afflicted  crea- 
tion— and  is  not  this  the  very  picture 
sketched  by  the  Psalmist,  when,  after 
the  sublime  ascription,  "  Thy  kingdom 
is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and  thy  do- 
minion enduretli  throughout  all  gene- 
rations," he  adds  the  comforting  words, 
"the  Lord  upholdeth  all  that  fall, 
and  lifteth  up  all  those  that  be  bowed 
down  r' 

We  have  only  to  add,  that  the  doc- 
trine of  a  particular  and  universal  Pro- 
vidence, on  which  we  have  insisted,  is 
strictly  derivable  from  the  very  nature 
of  God.  We  are  so  accustomed  to 
reckon  one  thing  great  and  another 
small,  that  when  we  ascend  to  con- 
templations of  Deity,  we  are  apt  to  for- 
get that  there  is  not  to  him  that  gradu- 


THE    GREATNESS    AND    CONDESCENSION    OF    GOD. 


U5 


ated  scale  which  there  must  be  to  our- 
selves. It  is  to  bring  down  God  to  the 
feebleness  of  our  own  estate,  to  sup- 
pose that  what  is  great  to  us  must  be 
great  to  him,  and  that  what  is  small  to 
us  must  be  small  to  him.  I  know  and 
am  persuaded,  that,  dwelling  as  God 
does  ia  inaccessible  splendors,  a  world 
is  to  him  an  atom,  and  an  atom  is  to 
him  a  world.  He  can  know  nothing  of 
the  human  distinctions  between  great 
and  small — so  that  he  is  dishonored,  not 
when  all  things  are  reckoned  as  alike 
subject  to  his  inspections,  but  when 
some  things  are  deemed  important 
enough,  and  others  too  insignificant, 
to  come  within  the  notice  of  his  provi- 
dence. If  he  concern  himself  with  the 
fate  of  an  empire,  but  not  with  the  fall 
of  a  sparrow,  he  must  be  a  being  scarce 
removed  from  equality  with  ourselves  ; 
for,  if  he  have  precisely  the  same  scale 
by  which  to  estimate  importance,  the 
range  of  his  intelligence  can  be  little 
wider  than  that  of  our  own.  God  is 
that  mysterious  being,  to  whom  the 
only  great  thing  is  himself.  And,  there- 
fore, when  ''  the  eyes  of  all  wait  upon" 
him,  the  seraph  gains  not  attention  by 
his  gaze  of  fire,  and  the  insect  loses 
it  not  through  feebleness  of  vision — 
Archangel,  and  angel,  and  man,  and 
beast,  and  fowl  of  the  air,  and  fish  of 
the  sea,  all  draw  equally  the  regards 
of  him,  who,  counting  nothing  great 
but  himself  the  Creator,  can  pass  over, 
as  small,  no  fraction  of  the  creature. 
It  is  thus  virtually  the  property  of  God, 
that  he  should  care  for  every  thing, 
and  sustain  every  thing ;  so  that  we 
should  never  behold  a  blade  of  grass 
springing  up  from  the  earth,  nor  hear 
a  bird  warble  its  wild  music,  nor  see  an 
infant  slumber  on  its  mother's  breast, 
without  a  warm  memory  that  it  is 
through  God,  as  a  God  of  providence, 
that  the  fields  are  enamelled  in  due 
season,  that  every  animated  tribe  re- 
ceives its  sustenance,  and  that  the  suc- 
cessive generations  of  mankind  arise, 
and  flourish,  and  possess  the  earth. 
And  never  should  we  think  of  joy  or 
sorrow,  of  things  prosperous  or  ad- 
verse, of  health  or  sickness,  life  or 
death,  without  devoutly  believing  that 
the  times  of  every  man  are  in  the  Al- 
mighty's hands  ;  that  nothing  happens 
but  through  the  ordinance  or  permis- 
sion of  God;  and  that  the  very  same  I 


Providence  which  guides  the  march- 
ings of  stars,  and  regulates  the  convul- 
sions of  empires,  is  tending  at  the 
couch  of  the  afiiicted,  curtaining  the 
sleep,  and  watching  the  toil,  of  the 
earth's  remotest  families. 

We  can  only  desire  and  pray,  in  con- 
clusion, that  this  great  truth  might  es- 
tablish itself  in  all  our  hearts.  Then 
would  all  undue  anxieties  be  dismissed, 
our  plans  be  those  of  prudence,  our  en- 
ergies be  rightly  directed  and  strenu- 
ously employed,  disappointments  would 
be  avoided,  and  hope  would  never  make 
ashamed  ;  for  we  should  leave  every 
thing,  small  as  well  as  great,  in  the 
hands  of  Him  who  cannot  be  perplexed 
by  multiplicity,  nor  overpowered  by 
magnitude  j  and  the  result  would  be 
that  we  should  enjoy  a  serenity,  no 
more  to  be  broken  by  those  little  cares 
which  perpetually  wrinkle  the  sur- 
face, than  by  those  fierce  storms  which 
threaten  the  complete  shipwreck  of 
peace. 

And  forasmuch  as  we  have  spoken 
of  Redemption  as  well  as  of  Provi- 
dence, and  are  now  telling  you  of  se- 
curity and  serenity,  suffer  that  we  re- 
mind you  of  the  simile  by  which  St. 
Paul  has  represented  christian  hope  : 
'^  Which  hope  we  have  as  an  anchor  of 
the  soul,  both  sure  and  steadfast,  and 
which  entereth  into  that  within  the 
vail."  The  anchor  is  cast  "within  the 
vail,"  whither  Christ  the  forerunner  is 
gone  before.  And  if  hope  be  fixed  up- 
on Christ,  the  Rock  of  Ages,  a  rock 
rent,  if  we  may  use  the  expression,  on 
purpose  that  there  might  be  a  holding- 
place  for  the  anchors  of  a  perishing 
world,  it  may  well  come  to  pass  that 
we  enjoy  a  calm  as  we  journey  through 
life,  and  draw  near  the  grave.  But  since 
'^  other  foundation  can  no  man  lay  tliaii 
that  is  laid,"  ifour  anchor  rest  not  on  this 
Rock,  where  is  our  hope,  where  our 
peacefulness  1  I  know  of  a  coming  tem- 
pest— and  would  to  God  that  the  young- 
er part,  more  especially,  of  this  audi- 
ence, might  be  stirred  by  its  approach 
to  repentance  and  righteousness !  I 
know  of  a  coming  tempest,  with  which 
the  Almighty  shall  shake  terribly  the 
earth  ;  the  sea  and  the  waves  roaring, 
and  the  stars  falling  from  the  heavens. 
Then  shall  there  be  a  thousand  ship- 
wrecks, and  immensity  be  strewed  with 
the  fragments  of  a  stranded  navy.  Then 
19 


146 


THE   TERMINATIOx\    OF    THE    MEDIATORIAL    KINGDOM. 


shall  vessel  upon  vessel,  laden  with  rea- 
son, and  high  intelligence,  and  noble 
faculty,  be  drifted  to  and  fro,  shatter- 
ed and  dismantled,  and  at  last  thrown 
on  the  shore  as  fuel  for  the  burning. 
But  there  are  ships  which  shall  not 
founder  in  this  battle  and  dissolution 
of  the  elements.  There  are  ships  which 
shall  be  in  no  peril  whilst  this,  the  last 
hurricane  which  is  to  sweep  our  crea- 
tion, confounds  earth,  and  sea,  and  sky  j 
but  which — when  the  fury  is  overpast, 
and  the  light  of  a  morning  which  is  to 
know  no  night  breaks  gloriously  forth 


— shall  be  found  upon  crystal  and  tran- 
quil waters,  resting  beautifully  on  their 
shadows.  These  are  those  which  have 
been  anchored  upon  Christ.  These  are 
those — and  may  none  refuse  to  join  the 
number — who  have  trusted  themselves 
to  the  Mediator,  who  humbled  himself 
that  he  might  lift  up  all  those  that  are 
bowed  down  ;  and  who  have  therefore 
interest  in  every  promise  made  by  Him, 
whose  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  king- 
dom, and  whose  dominion  endureth 
throughout  all  generations. 


SERMON   II. 


THE  TERMINATION  OF  THE  MEDIATORIAL  KINGDOM. 


"And  when  all  things  shall  be  subdued  unto  Him,  then  shall  the  Son  also  himself  be  subject  unto 
Him  that  put  all  things  under  him,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all."— 1  Corinthians,  15  :  28. 


In  our  last  discourse  we  spoke  of  an  ' 
everlasting  kingdom,  and  of  a  domin-  j 
ion  which  endureth  throughout  all  gen-  I 
erations.  It  will  be  of  a  kingdom  which  I 
must  terminate,  though  it  appertain  to  | 
a  divine  person,  that  we  shall  have  to 
speak  in  expounding  the  words  of  our  \ 
text.  I 

There  are  two  great  truths  presented  I 
oy  this  verse  and  its  context,  each  de-  I 
serving  attentive  examination — the  one,  { 
that  Christ  is  now  vested  with  a  king-  | 
ly  authority  which  he  must  hereafter  | 
resign ;    the   other,  that,   as  a  conse-  j 
quence  on  this  resignation,  God  him-  j 
self  will  become  all  in  all  to  the  uni-  j 
verse.   We  proceed  at  once  to  the  con- 
sideration of  these  truths  ;  and  begin 
"by  observing  the  importance  of  care- 
fully distinguishing  between  what  the 
Scriptures  affirm  of  the  attributes,  and 
what  of  the  offices,  of  the  persons  in  the 
Trinity.    In  regard   of  the  attributes, 
you  will   find  that  the  employed  lan- 


guage marks  perfect  equality  ;  the  Fa- 
ther, Son,  and  Spirit,  being  alike  spokeu 
of  as  Eternal,  Omniscient,  Omnipotent, 
Omnipresent.  But  in  regard  of  the  of- 
fices, there  can  be  no  dispute  that  the 
language  indicates  inequality,  and  that 
both  the  Son  and  Spirit  are  represent- 
ed as  inferior  to  the  Father.  This  may 
readily  be  accounted  for  from  the  na- 
ture of  the  plan  of  redemption.  This 
plan  demanded  that  the  Son  should 
humble  himself,  and  assume  our  na- 
ture ;  and  that  the  Spirit  should  con-  \ 
descend  to  be  sent  as  a  renovating 
agent ;  whilst  the  Father  was  to  remain 
in  the  sublimity  and  happiness  of  God- 
head. And  if  such  plan  were  under- 
taken and  carried  through,  it  seems 
unavoidable,  that,  in  speaking  of  its 
several  parts,  the  Son  and  the  Spirit 
should  be  occasionally  described  as  in- 
ferior to  the  Father.  The  offices  be- 
ing subordinate,  the  holders  of  those 
offices,  though  naturally  equal,  must 


THE    TERMINATION    OF    THE    MEDIATORIAL    KINGDOM. 


147 


sometimes  be  exhibited  as  though  one 
were  superior  to  the  others.  At  one 
time  they  may  be  spoken  of  with  refer- 
ence to  their  attributes,  and  then  the 
language  will  mark  perfect  equality  ; 
at  another,  with  reference  to  their  of- 
fices, and  then  it  will  indicate  a  rela- 
tive inferiority. 

And  it  is  only  by  thus  distinguish- 
ing between  the  attributes  and  the  of- 
fices, that  we  can  satisfactorily  explain 
our  text  and  its  context.  The  apostle 
expressly  declares  of  Christ,  that  he  is 
to  deliver  up  his  kingdom  to  the  Fa- 
ther, and  to  become  himself  subject  to 
the  Father.  And  the  question  natural- 
ly proposes  itself,  how  are  statements 
such  as  these  to  be  reconciled  with 
other  portions  of  Scripture,  which 
speak  of  Christ  as  an  everlasting  King, 
and  declare  his  dominion  to  be  that 
which  shall  not  be  destroyed  1  There 
is  no  difficulty  in  reconciling  these  ap- 
parently conflicting  assertions,  if  we 
consider  Christ  as  spoken  of  in  the  one 
case  as  God,  in  the  other  as  Mediator. 
If  we  believe  him  to  be  God,  we  know 
that  he  must  be,  in  the  largest  sense. 
Sovereign  of  the  universe,  and  that  he 
can  no  more  give  up  his  dominion  than 
change  his  nature.  And  then  if  we  re- 
gard him  as  undertaking  the  office  of 
Mediator  between  God  and  man,  we 
must  admit  the  likelihood  that  he  would 
be  invested,  as  holding  this  office,  with 
an  authority  not  necessarily  permanent, 
which  would  last  indeed  as  long  as  the 
office,  but  cease  if  there  ever  came  a 
period  when  the  office  would  itself  be 
abolished.  So  that  there  is  no  cause 
for  surprise,  nothing  which  should  go 
to  the  persuading  us  that  Christ  is  not 
God,  if  we  find  the  Son  described  as 
surrendering  his  kingdom :  we  have 
only  to  suppose  him  then  spoken  of  as 
Mediator,  and  to  examine  whether  there 
be  not  .a  mediatorial  kingdom,  which, 
committed  to  Christ,  has  at  length  to 
be  resigned. 

And  you  cannot  be  acquainted  with 
the  scheme  of  our  Redemption,  and 
not  know  that  the  office  of  Mediator 
warrants  our  supposing  a  kingdom 
which  will  be  finally  surrendered.  The 
grand  design  of  Redemption  has  all 
along  been  the  exterminating  evil  from 
the  universe,  and  the  restoring  harmo- 
ny throughout  God's  disorganized  em- 
pire.   We  know  that  God  made  every 


thing  good,  and  that  the  creation,  whe- 
ther animate  or  inanimate,  as  it  rose 
from  his  hands,  presented  no  trace  of 
imperfection  or  pollution.  But  evil  mys- 
teriously gained  entrance,  and,  origi- 
nating in  heaven,  spread  rapidly  to 
earth.  And  henceforwards  it  was  the 
main  purpose  of  the  Almighty  to  coun- 
teract evil,  to  obliterate  the  stains  from 
his  workmanship,  and  to  reinstate  and 
confirm  the  universe  in  its  original  pu- 
rity. To  efiect  this  purpose,  his  own 
Son,  equal  to  himself  in  all  the  attri- 
butes of  Godhead,  undertook  to  as- 
sume human  nature  ;  and  to  accom- 
plish, in  working  out  the  reconciliation 
of  an  alienated  tribe,  results  which 
should  extend  themselves  to  every  de- 
partment of  creation.  He  was  not  in- 
deed fully  and  visibly  invested  with 
the  kingly  office,  until  after  his  death 
and  resurrection ;  for  then  it  was  that 
he  declared  to  his  disciples,  "  all  pow- 
er is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and 
earth."  Nevertheless  the  Mediatori- 
al kingdom  had  commenced  with  the 
commencement  of  human  guilt  and  mi- 
sery. For,  so  soon  as  man  rebelled, 
Christ  interfered  on  his  behalf,  and  as- 
sumed the  office  of  his  surety  and  de- 
liverer. He  undertook  the  combat  with 
the  powers  of  evil,  and  fought  his  first 
battle.  And  afterwards  all  God's  inter- 
course with  the  world  was  carried  on 
through  the  Mediator — Christ  appear- 
ing in  human  form  to  patriarchs  and 
saints,  and  superintending  the  con- 
cerns of  our  race  with  distinct  refer- 
ence to  the  good  of  his  church. 

But  when,  through  death,  he  had  de- 
stroyed "  him  that  had  the  power  of 
death,"  the  Mediator  became  emphati- 
cally a  king.  He  "  ascended  up  on  high, 
and  led  captivity  captive,"  in  that  very 
nature  in  which  he  had  "  borne  our 
griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows."  He 
sat  down  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
the  very  person  that  had  been  made  a 
curse  for  us ;  and  there  was  "  given 
him  a  name  which  is  above  every 
name,  that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every 
knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven, 
and  things  on  earth,  and  things  under 
the  earth."  And  ever  since  he  hath 
been  ''  head  over  all  things  to  the 
church  ;"  and  God  has  so  delegated  his 
power  to  the  Mediator,  that  this  Media- 
tor has  "  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death," 
and  so  rules  human  affairs  as  to  make 


148 


THE   TERMINATION   OF   THE   MEDIATORIAL   KINGDOM. 


way  for  a  grand  consummation  which 
creation  yet  expects.  It  is  certainly 
the  representation  of  Scripture,  that 
Christ  has  heen  exalted  to  a  throne,  in 
recompense  of  his  humiliation  and  suf- 
fering ;  and  that,  seated  on  this  throne, 
he  governs  all  things  in  heaven  and 
earth.  And  we  call  this  throne  the  me- 
diatorial throne,  because  it  was  only 
as  Mediator  that  Christ  could  be  exalt- 
ed ;  because,  possessing  essentially  all 
power  as  God,  it  could  only  be  as  God- 
man  that  he  was  vested  with  dominion. 
''  He  must  reign,"  saith  St.  Paul,  "  un- 
til he  hath  put  all  enemies  under  his 
feet."  The  great  object  for  which  the 
kingdom  has  been  erected,  is,  that  he 
who  occupies  the  throne  may  subdue 
those  principalities  and  powers  which 
have  set  themselves  against  the  go- 
vernment of  God.  Already  have  vast 
advances  been  made  towards  the  sub- 
jugation. But  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  have  not  yet  become  the  king- 
doms of  our  Lord  and  his  Christ.  Sin 
still  reigns,  and  death  still  reigns,  and 
only  an  inconsiderable  fraction  of  the 
liuman  population  bow  to  the  sceptre 
of  Jesus.  But  we  are  taught  to  expect 
a  thorough  and  stupendous  change. 
We  know  from  prophecy  that  a  time 
approaches  when  the  whole  world  shall 
be  evangelized  ;  when  there  shall  not 
be  the  tribe,  no,  nor  the  individual 
upon  earth,  who  fails  to  love  and  re- 
verence the  Mediator.  Christ  hath  yet 
to  set  up  his  kingdom  on  the  wreck  of 
all  human  sovereignty,  and  so  to  dis- 
play himself  that  he  shall  be  univer- 
sally adored  as  "  King  of  kings  and 
Lord  of  lords." 

And  when  this  noble  result  is  brought 
round,  and  the  whole  globe  mantled 
with  righteousness,  there  will  yet  re- 
main much  to  be  done  ere  the  media- 
torial work  is  complete.  The  throne 
must  be  set  for  judgment;  the  enact- 
ments of  a  retributive  economy  take 
effect ;  the  dead  be  raised,  and  all  men 
receive  the  things  done  in  the  body. 
Then  will  evil  be  finally  expelled  from 
the  universe,  and  God  may  again  look 
forth  on  his  unlimited  empire,  and  de- 
clare it  not  defiled  by  a  solitary  stain. 
Then  will  be  ''  the  restitution  of  all 
things."  Then  will  it  be  evident  that 
the  power  committed  to  Christ  has  ac- 
complished the  great  ends  for  which  it 
was  entrusted,  the  overthrow  of  Satan, 


the  destruction  of  death,  and  the  extir- 
pation of  unrighteousness.  And  if  it  bo 
the  declaration  of  Scripture  that  the 
Mediator  shall  thus  at  length  master 
evil  under  its  every  form,  and  in  its 
every  consequence,  will  not  this  Medi- 
ator finally  prove  himself  a  king — de- 
monstrating not  only  the  possession  of 
sovereignty,  but  the  employment  of 
it  to  those  illustrious  purposes  which 
were  proposed  by  God  from  the  foun- 
dation of  the  world  1  Yes,  we  can  say 
with  St.  Paul,  "  we  see  not  yet  all 
things  put  under  him."  But  we  see 
enough  to  assure  us  that  "  him  hath 
God  exalted  as  a  Prince  and  a  Savior." 
We  see  enough,  and  we  know  enough, 
to  be  persuaded,  that  there  is  kingdom 
within  kingdom;  and  that,  whilst  God 
is  still  the  universal  Monarch,  the  Om- 
nipotent who  "  telleth  the  number  of 
the  stars,"  and  without  whom  not  even 
a  sparrow  falls,  the  Mediator  superin- 
tends and  regulates  the  affairs  of  his 
church,  and  orders,  with  absolute  sway, 
whatever  respects  the  final  establish- 
ment of  righteousness  through  crea- 
tion. And  therefore  are  we  also  per- 
suaded, on  the  testimony  which  cannot 
deceive,  that  this  Mediator  shall  reign 
till  he  hath  brought  into  subjection 
every  adversary  of  God  ;  and  that  at 
last — death  itself  being  swallowed  up 
in  victory — the  universe,  purged  from 
all  pollution,  and  glowing  with  a  richer 
than  its  pristine  beauty,  shall  be  the 
evidence  that  there  hath  indeed  been 
a  mediatorial  kingdom,  and  that  no- 
thing could  withstand  the  Mediator's 
sovereignty. 

Now  it  has  been  our  object,  up  to 
this  point  of  our  discourse,  to  prove  to 
you,  on  scriptural  authority,  that  the 
Mediator  is  a  king,  and  that  Christ,  as 
God-man,  is  invested  with  a  dominion 
not  to  be  confounded  with  that  which 
belongs  to  him  as  God.  You  are  now 
therefore  prepared  for  the  question, 
whether  Christ  have  not  a  kingdom 
which  must  be  ultimately  resigned.  We 
think  it  evident  that,  as  Mediator,  Christ 
has  certain  functions  to  discharge, 
which,  from  their  very  nature,  cannot 
be  eternal.  When  the  last  of  God's  elect 
family  shall  have  been  gathered  in,  there 
will  be  none  to  need  the  blood  of  sprink- 
ling, none  to  require  the  intercession 
of  "  an  advocate  with  the  Father."  And 
when  the  last  enemy,  which  is  death, 


THE    TERMINATION    OF    THE    MEDIATORIAL    KINGDOM. 


149 


shall  have  been  destroyed,  that  great 
purpose  of  the  Almighty — the  conquest 
of  Satan,  and  the  extirpation  of  evil, 
will  be  accomplished  ;  so  that  there 
will  be  no  more  battles  for  the  Media- 
tor to  fight,  no  more  adversaries  to  sub- 
due. And  thus,  if  we  have  rightly  de- 
scribed the  mediatorial  kingdom,  there 
is  to  come  a  time  when  it  will  be  no 
longer  necessary  ;  when,  every  object 
for  which  it  was  erected  having  been 
fully  and  finally  attained,  and  no  possi- 
bility existing  that  evil  may  re-enter 
the  universe,  this  kingdom  may  be  ex- 
pected to  cease. 

And  this  is  the  great  consummation 
which  we  are  taught  by  our  text  and  its 
context  to  expect.  We  may  not  be  able 
to  explain  its  details,  but  the  outlines 
are  sketched  with  boldness  and  preci- 
sion.   There  has   been   committed   to 
Christ,  not  as  God,  but  as  God-man,  a 
kingdom  which,  though  small  in  its  be- 
ginning, shall  at  length  supersede  every 
other.    The   designs  proposed  in    the 
erection  of  this  kingdom,  are  the  sal- 
vation of  man  and  the  glory  of  God,  in 
the  thorough  extirpation  of  evil  from 
the  universe.    These   designs  will  be 
fully  accomplished  at  the  general  judg- 
ment ;  and  then,  the  ends  for  which  the 
kingdom  was  erected  having  been  an- 
swered, the  kingdom  itself  is  to  termi- 
nate. Then  shall  the  Son  of  man,  hav- 
ing "  put  down  all  rule  and  all  autho- 
rity and  power,"  lay  aside  the  sceptre 
of  majesty,   and  take   openly  a  place 
subordinate  to  Deity.    Then  shall  all 
that    sovereignty  which,    for   magnifi- 
cent but  temporary  purposes,  has  been 
wielded  by  and  through  the  humanity 
of  Christ,  pass  again  to  the  Godhead 
whence  it  was  derived.  Then  shall  the 
Creator,  acting  no  longer  through  the 
instrumentality  of  a  mediator,  assume 
visibly,  amid  the  worshippings  of  the 
whole  intelligent   creation,   the  domi- 
nion over  his  infinite  and  now  purified 
empire,  and  administer  its  every  con- 
cern without  the    intervention  of  one 
"  found  in  fashion  as  a  man."  And  then, 
though  as  head  of  his  church,   Christ, 
in  human  nature,  may  always  retain  a 
special   power    over    his   people,   and 
though,  as  essentially  divine,  he  must 
at  all  times  be  equally  the  omnipotent, 
there  will  necessarily  be  such  a  change 
in  the  visible  government  of  the  uni- 
verse, that  the  Sou  shall  seem  to  sur- 


render all  kingly  authority  ;  to  descend 
from  his  throne,  having  made  his  ene- 
mies his  footstool,  and  take  his  station 
amongst  those  who  obey  rather  than 
rule  ;  and  thus  shall  be  brought  to  pass 
the  saying   that  is  written,  "  the  Son 
also  himself  shall  be  subject  unto  him 
that   put   all   things   under    him ;"  and 
God,  the  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost, 
"  God  shall  henceforwards  be  all  in  all." 
Now  it  is  upon  this  latter  expression, 
indicative  as  it  is  of  what  we  may  call 
the  universal  diffusion   of  Deity,  that 
we  design  to  employ  the  remainder  of 
our  time.    We  wish  to  examine   into 
the  truths  involved  in  the   assertion, 
that  God  is  to  be  finally  all  in  all.    It  is 
an  assertion  which,  the  more  it  is  pon- 
dered, the  more    august  and  compre- 
hensive will  it  appear.    You  may  re- 
member that  the   same   expression  is 
used  of  Christ  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Co- 
lossians — "  Christ    is    all    and   in  all." 
There  is  no  disagreement  between  the 
assertions.  In  the  Epistle  to  the  Colos- 
sians  St.  Paul   speaks  of  what   takes 
place  under  the  mediatorial  kingdom; 
whereas  in  that  to  the  Corinthians,  he 
describes  what  will  occur  when  that 
kingdom    shall    have     terminated.    At 
present,  whatever    in  the    divine    go- 
vernment has  reference  to  this  earth 
and  its   inhabitants,  is  not  transacted 
immediately    by    God,    but    mediately 
through  an  Intercessor,   so  that  Christ 
is  all  in  all.    But  hereafter,  the  media- 
torial office  finally  ceasing,  the  admi- 
nistration, we  are  assured,  will  be  im- 
mediately with  God,  and  therefore  will 
God  be  all  in  all. 

We  learn  then  from  the  expression 
in  question,  however  unable  we  may 
be  to  explain  the  amazing  transition, 
that  there  is  to  be  a  removal  of  the  ap- 
paratus constructed  for  allowing  us 
communications  with  Godhead ;  and 
that  we  shall  not  need  those  offices  of 
an  Intercessor,  without  which  there 
could  now  be  no  access  to  our  Maker. 
There  is  something  very  grand  and 
animating  in  this  announcement.  If 
we  were  nnfallen  creatures,  we  should 
need  no  Mediator.  We  might,  as  did 
Adam,  approach  at  once  the  Creator, 
and,  though  awed  by  his  majesty,  have 
no  fears  as  to-  our  reception,  and  ex- 
perience no  repulse.  And  therefore, 
whilst  we  heartily  thank  God  for  the 
unspeakable  gift  of  his  Son,  we  cannot 


150 


THE   TERMINATION   OF   THE    MEDIATORIAL   KINGDOM. 


but  feel,  that,  so  long  as  we  have  no 
access  to  him  except  through  a  Media- 
tor, we  have  not  altogether  recovered 
our  forfeited  privileges.  The  mediato- 
rial office,  independently  on  which  we 
must  have  been  everlastingly  outcasts, 
is  evidence,  throughout  the  whole  of 
its  continuance,  that  the  human  race 
does  not  yet  occupy  the  place  whence 
it  fell.  But  with  the  termination  of  this 
office  shall  be  the  admission  of  man 
into  all  the  privileges  of  direct  access 
to  his  Maker.  Then  shall  he  see  face  to 
face  ;  then  shall  he  know  even  as  also 
he  is  known.  There  are  yet,  and  there 
must  be,  whilst  God's  dealings  with 
humanity  are  carried  on  through  a 
Mediator,  separating  distances  between 
our  race  and  the  Creator,  which  exist 
not  in  regard  of  other  orders  of  being. 
But  the  descent  of  the  Son  from  the 
throne,  to  which  he  was  exalted  in  re- 
compense of  his  sufferings,  shall  be  the 
unfolding  to  man  the  presence-chamber 
in  which  Deity  unveils  his  eff'ulgence. 
In  ceasing  to  have  a  Mediator,  the  last 
barrier  is  taken  down;  and  man,  who 
had  thrown  himself  to  an  unmeasured 
distance  from  God,  passes  into  those 
direct  associations  with  Him  ''  that  in- 
habiteth  eternity,"  which  can  be  grant- 
ed to  none  but  those  who  never  fell,  or 
who,  having  fallen,  have  been  recovered 
from  every  consequence  of  apostacy. 
And  tlierefore,  it  is  not  that  we  de- 
preciate, or  undervalue,  the  blessedness 
of  that  condition  in  which  Christ  is  all 
in  all  to  his  church.  We  cannot  com- 
pute this  blessedness,  and  we  feel  that 
the  best  praises  fall  far  short  of  its  de- 
serts ;  and  yet  we  can  believe  of  this 
blessedness,  that  it  is  only  preparatory 
to  a  richer  and  a  higher.  Whilst  over- 
whelmed with  the  consciousness  that  I 
owe  every  thing  to  a  Mediator,  I  can 
yet  feel  that  this  Mediator  must  lay 
aside  his  office  as  no  longer  necessary, 
ere  I  can  stand  in  that  relationship  to 
Deity,  and  possess  that  freedom  of  ap- 
proach, which  belong  to  the  loftiest 
and  holiest  in  creation.  To  tell  me  that 
I  should  need  a  Mediator  through  eter- 
nity, were  to  tell  me  that  I  should  be 
in  danger  of  death,  and  at  a  distance 
from  God.  And,  therefore,  in  inform- 
ing me  of  the  extinction  of  that  sove- 
reignty by  which  alone  I  can  be  res- 
cued, you  inform  me  of  the  restora- 
tion of  all  which  Adam  lost,  and  of  the 


placing  humankind  on  equality  with 
angels.  It  is  not  then,  we  again  say, 
that  we  are  insensible  to  benefits,  over- 
passing all  thought,  which  we  derive 
from  the  mediatorial  kingdom;  it  is 
only  because  we  know  that  this  king- 
dom is  but  introductory  to  another,  and 
that  the  perfection  of  happiness  must 
require  our  admission  into  direct  in- 
tercourse with  our  Maker — it  is  only 
on  these  accounts  that  we  anticipate 
with  delight  the  giving  up  of  the  king- 
dom to  the  Father,  and  associate  what- 
ever is  most  gladdening  and  glorious 
with  the  truth,  that  God,  rather  than 
Christ,  shall  be  all  in  all  through  eter- 
nity. 

But    there   are  other  thoughts   sug- 
gested  by  the   fact,  that  God   himself 
shall  be  all  in  all.    We  have  hitherto 
considered   the    expression  as  simply 
denoting  that  men  will  no   longer  ap- 
proach God   through  a  Mediator,  and 
that  their  happiness  will  be  vastly  aug- 
mented  by  their  obtaining  the  privi- 
lege of  direct  access.    There  is,  how- 
ever, no  reason  for  supposing  that  the 
human  race  alone  will   be  affected   by 
the  resignation  of  the  mediatorial  king- 
dom.   We  may  not  believe  that   it  is 
only  over   ourselves  that  Christ  Jesus 
has  been  invested  with  sovereignty.   It 
would  rather  appear,  since  all   power 
has   been    given    him    in   heaven   and 
earth,    that    the    mediatorial   kingdom 
embraces  different  worlds,  and  differ- 
ent   orders   of  intelligence ;   and   that 
the   chief  affairs   of   the   universe   are 
administered  by  Christ  in  his  glorified 
humanity.    It  is  therefore  possible  that 
even   unto   angels  the   Godhead   does 
not   now  immediately  manifest  itself; 
but  that  these   glorious  creatures  are 
governed,  like  ourselves,  through    the 
instrumentality  of  the  Mediator.  Hence 
it    will    be    a  great    transition    to    the 
whole     intelligent    creation,    and    not 
merely  to  an  inconsiderable    fraction, 
when  the  Son  shall  give  up  the  king- 
dom to  the  Father.    It  will  be  the  vi- 
sible enthronement  of  Deity.   The  Cre- 
ator   will    come    forth    from  his   sub- 
lime solitude,  and  assume  the  sceptre 
of  his  boundless  empire.    It  will  be  a 
new  and   overwhelming  manifestation 
of  Divinity — another  fold  of  the  veil, 
which  must  always  hang  between  the 
created  and   the  uncreated,  will  have 
been  removed  ;  and  the  thousand  times 


THE    TEKMINATION    OF    THE    MEDIATORIAL    KINGDOM. 


151 


ten  thousand  spirits  which  throng  im- 
mensity, shall  behold  with  a  clear  vi- 
sion, and  know  with  an  ampler  know- 
ledge, the  Eternal  One  at  whose  w^ord 
they  rose  into  being. 

And  it  is  not,  we  think,  possible  to 
give  a  finer  description  of  universal 
harmony  and  happiness,  than  is  con- 
tained in  the  sentence,  "God  all  in 
all,"  when  supposed  to  have  reference 
to  every  rank  in  creation.  Let  us  con- 
sider for  a  moment  Avhat  the  sentence 
implies.  It  implies  that  there  shall 
be  but  one  mind,  and  that  the  Divine 
mind,  throughout  the  universe.  Every 
creature  shall  be  so  actuated  by  Deity, 
that  the  ^Creator  shall  have  only  to 
will,  and  the  whole  mass  of  intelligent 
being  will  be  conscious  of  the  same 
wish,  and  the  same  purpose.  It  is  not 
merely  that  every  creature  will  be  un- 
der the  government  of  the  Creator,  as 
a  subject  is  under  that  of  his  prince. 
It  is  not  merely  that  to  every  com- 
mand of  Deity  there  will  be  yielded 
an  instant  and  cheerful  obedience,  in 
every  department,  and  by  every  in- 
habitant of  the  universe.  It  is  more 
than  all  this.  It  is  that  there  shall  be 
such  fibres  of  association  betweeii,the 
Creator  and  the  creatures — God  shall 
be  so  wound  up,  if  the  expression  be 
lawful,  with  all  intelligent  being — that 
every  other  will  shall  move  simulta- 
neously with  the  divine,  and  the  re- 
solv^e  of  Deity  be  instantly  felt  as  one 
mighty  impulse  pervading  the  vast  ex- 
pansion of  mind.  God  all  in  all — it  is 
that  from  the  highest  order  to  the 
lowest,  archangel,  and  angel,  and  man, 
and  principality,  and  power,  there  shall 
be  but  one  desire,  one  object;  so  that 
to  every  motion  of  the  eternal  Spirit 
there  will  be  a  corresponding  in  each 
element  of  the  intellectual  creation,  as 
though  there  were  throughout  but  one 
soul,  one  animating,  actuating,  ener- 
gizing principle.  God  all  in  all.  I 
know  not  how  to  describe  the  har- 
mony which  the  expression  seems  to 
indicate.  This  gathering  of  the  Creator 
into  every  creature  ;  this  making  each 
mind  in  the  world  of  spirit  a  sort  of 
centre  of  Deity,  from  which  flow  the 
high  decisions  of  divine  sovereignty, 
so  that,  in  all  its  amplitude,  the  intel- 
lectual creation  seems  to  witness  that 
God  is  equally  every  where,  and  serves 
as   one   grand    instrument    which,    at 


every  point  and  in  every  spring,  is  in- 
stinct with  the  very  thought  of  Him 
who  "ordereth  all  things  in  heaven 
and  earth" — oh,  this  immeasurably 
transcends  the  mere  reduction  of  all 
systems,  and  all  beings,  into  a  delight- 
ed and  uniform  obedience.  This  is 
making  God  more  than  the  universal 
Ruler  :  it  is  making  him  the  universal 
Actuator.  And  you  might  tell  me  of 
tribe  upon  tribe  of  magnificent  crea- 
tures, waiting  to  execute  the  com- 
mandments of  God  ;  you  might  deline- 
ate the  very  tenant  of  every  spot  in  im- 
mensity, bowing  to  one  sceptre,  and 
burning  with  one  desire,  and  living  for 
one  end — but  indeed  the  most  labored 
and  high-wrought  description  of  the 
universal  prevalence  of  concord,  yields 
unspeakably  to  the  simple  announce- 
ment, that  there  shall  be  but  one  spi- 
rit, one  pulse,  through  creation  ;  and 
thought  itself  is  distanced,  when  we 
hear,  that  after  the  Son  shall  have  sur- 
rendered his  kingdom  to  the  Father, 
God  himself  shall  be  all  in  all  to  the 
universe. 

But  if  the  expression  mark  the  har- 
mony, it  marks  also  the  happiness  of 
eternit}'.  It  is  undeniable,  that,  even 
whilst  on  earth,  we  find  things  more 
beautiful  and  precious  in  proportion 
as  we  are  accustomed  to  find  God  in 
them,  to  view  them  as  gifts,  and  to 
love  them  for  the  sake  of  the  giver.  It 
is  not  the  poet,  nor  the  naturalist,  who 
has  the  richest  enjoyment  when  sur- 
veying the  landscape,  or  tracing  the 
manifestations  of  creative  power  and 
contrivance.  It  is  the  christian,  who 
recognizes  a  Father's  hand  in  the  glo- 
rious development  of  mountain  and  val- 
ley, and  discovers  the  loving-kindness 
of  an  ever-watchful  guardian  in  each 
example  of  the  adaptation  of  the  earth 
to  its  inhabitants.  No  man  has  such 
pleasure  in  any  of  those  objects  which 
answer  to  the  various  affections  of  his 
nature,  as  the  man  who  is  accustomed 
,  to  the  seeing  God  in  them.  And  then 
only  is  the  creature  loved,  not  merely 
with  a  lawful,  but  with  an  elevated  and 
ennobling  love,  when  regarded  as  be- 
stowed on  us  by  the  Creator,  and  wear- 
ing the  impress  of  the  benevolence  of 
Deity. 

What  will  it  be  when  God  shall  be 
literally  all  in  alll  It  were  little  to  tell 
us,  that,  admitted    into  the    heavenly 


152 


THE    TERMINATION    OF    THE    MEDIATORIAL    KINGDOM. 


Jerusalem,  we  should  worship  in  a  tem- 
ple magnificent  in  architecture,  and 
bow  down  at  a  shrine,  whence  flashed 
the  effulgence  and  issued  the  voice  of 
Jehovah.  The  mighty  and  overwhelm- 
ing thing  is,  that,  according  to  the  vi- 
sion of  St.  John,  there  shall  be  no  tem- 
ple there;  but  that  so  actually  shall 
God  be  all,  that  Deity  itself  will  be  our 
sanctuary,  and  our  adorations  be  ren- 
dered in  the  sublime  recesses  of  the 
Omnipotent  himself.  It  were  little  to 
Assure  us  that  the  everlasting  dwelling- 
place  of  the  saints  shall  be  irradiated 
by  luminaries  a  thousand-fold  more 
splendid  and  gorgeous  than  walk  the 
firmament  of  a  fallen  creation.  The 
animated  intelligence  is,  that  there 
shall  be  "no  need  of  the  sun,  neither 
of  the  moon  ;"  that  God  shall  be  all, 
and  the  shinings  of  Divinity  light  up 
the  scenery  over  which  we  shall  expa- 
tiate. 

And  if  we  think  on  future  inter- 
course with  beings  of  our  own  race,  or 
of  loftier  ranks,  then  only  are  the  an- 
ticipations rapturous  and  inspiriting, 
when  Deity  seems  blended  with  every 
association.  I  know  how  frequently, 
when  death  has  made  an  inroad  on  a 
household,  the  thoughts  of  survivors 
follow  the  buried  one  into  the  invisible 
state ;  and  with  what  fervency  and 
fondness  they  dwell  on  re-union  in  a 
world  where  partings  are  unknown. 
And  never  let  a  syllable  be  breathed 
which  would  throw  suspicion  on  a  te- 
net commending  itself  so  exquisitely 
to  the  best  sympathies  of  our  nature, 
or  take  away  from  mourners  the  con- 
solatory belief,  that,  in  the  land  of  the 
promised  inheritance,  the  parent  shall 
know  the  child  whom  he  followed  heart- 
broken to  the  grave,  and  the  child  the 
parent  Avho  left  him  in  all  the  loneliness 
of  orphanage,  and  the  husband  the  wife, 
or  the  wife  the  husband,  whose  remo- 
val threw  a  blight  on  all  the  happiness 
of  home.  But  how  can  it  come  to  pass 
that  there  will  be  anything  like  the  re- 
newal of  human  associations,  and  yet 
future  happiness  be  of  that  exalted  and 
unearthly  character,  which  has  nothing 
common  with  the  contracted  feelings 
here  engaged  by  a  solitary  family  1  We 
reply  at  once  that  God  is  to  be  all  in 
all.  The  child  may  be  again  loved  and 
embraced.  But  the  emotions  will  have 
none  of  that  selfishness  into  which  the 


purest  and  deepest  of  our  feelings  may 
now  be  too  much  resolved  :  it  will  be 
God  that  the  child  loves  in  the  parent, 
and  it  will  be  God  that  the  parent  loves 
in  the  child ;  and  the  gladness  with 
which  the  heart  of  each  swells,  as  they 
recognize  one  the  other  in  the  celes- 
tial city,  will  be  a  gladness  of  which  . _ 
Deity  is  the  spring,  a  gladness  of  which  / 
Deity  is  the  object. 

Thus    shall  it  be  also  in  regard  of 
every  element  which  can  be  supposed 
to   enter   into  future  happiness.    It  is 
certain,  that,  if  God  be  all  in  all,  there 
will  be  excited  in  us  no  wish  which  we 
shall  be  required  to  repress,  none  which 
shall  not  be  gratified  so  soon  as  formed. 
Having  God  in  ourselves,  we  shall  have 
capacities  of  enjoyment  immeasurably 
larger  than  at  present ;  having  God  in 
all  around  us,  we  shall  find  every  where 
material  of   enjoyment  commensurate 
with  our  amplified  powers.    Let  us  put 
from  us  confused  and  indeterminate  no- 
tions of  happiness,  and  the  simple  de- 
scription, that  God  shall  be  all  in  all, 
sets  before  us  the  very  perfection  of 
felicity.     The  only  sound  definition  of 
happiness  is  that  every  faculty  has  its 
proper  object.  And  we  believe  of  man, 
that  God  endowed  him  with  various  ca- 
pacities, intending  to  be  himself  their 
supply.   Man  indeed  revolted  from  God, 
and  has  ever  since  endeavored,  though 
ever  disappointed,  to  fill  his  capacities 
with  other  objects  than  God.    But  may 
not  God  hereafter,  having  rectified  the 
disorders  of  humanity,  be  himself  the 
object   of  our  every  faculty  1  I  know 
not  why  we  may  not  suppose  that  not 
only  the  works    of   God,   which   now 
manifest  his  qualities,  but  the  qualities 
themselves,    as   they    subsist    without 
measure    in   the    ever-living   Creator, 
will  become  the  immediate  objects  of 
contemplation.      ''What    an    object," 
says  Bishop  Butler,  *'  is  the  universe 
to  a  creature,  if  there  be  a  creature 
who  can  comprehend  its  system.    But 
it  must  be  an   infinitely  higher  exer- 
cise of  the  understanding,  to  view  the 
scheme  of  it  in  that  mind  which  pro- 
jected it,  before   its  foundations  were 
laid.   And  surely  we  have  meaning  to 
the  words  when  we  speak  of  going  fur- 
ther, and  viewing,  not  only  this  system 
in  his  mind,  but  the  very  wisdom,  in- 
telligence,  and  power   from  which  it 
proceeded."    And  yet  more,  as  the  pre- 


THE    TERMINATION    OF    THE    MEDIATORIAL    KINGDOM. 


153 


^'ate  goes  on  to  argue.  Wisdom,  intel- 
ligence, and  power,  are  not  God,  though 
God  is  an  infinitely  wise  being,  and  in- 
telligent, and  powerful.  So  that  to  con- 
template the  effects  of  wisdom  must  be 
an  inferior  thing  to  the  contemplating 
wisdom  in  itself — for  the  cause  must 
be  always  a  higher  object  to  the  mind 
than  the  effect — and  the  contemplating 
wisdom  in  itself  must  be  an  inferior 
thing  to  the  contemplating  the  divine 
nature ;  for  wisdom  is  but  an  attribute 
of  the  nature,  and  not  the  nature  itself. 

Thus,  at  present,  we  make  little  or 
no  approach  towards  knowing  God  as 
he  is,  because  God  hath  not  yet  made 
himself  all  in  all  to  his  creatures.  But 
let  there  once  come  this  universal  dif- 
fusion of  Deity,  and  we  may  find  in 
God  himself  the  objects  which  answer 
to  our  matured  and  spiritualized  facul- 
ties. We  profess  not  to  be  competent 
to  the  understanding  the  mysterious 
change  which  is  thus  indicated  as  pass- 
ing on  the  universe.  But  we  can  per- 
ceive it  to  be  a  change  which  shall  be 
full  of  glory,  full  of  happiness.  We 
shall  be  as  sensible  of  the  presence  of 
God,  as  we  now  are  of  the  presence  of 
a  friend,  when  he  is  standing  by  us,  and 
conversing  with  us.  "  And  what  will 
be  the  joy  of  heart  which  his  presence 
will  inspire  good  men  with,  when  they 
shall  have  a  sensation  that  he  is  the 
sustainer  of  their  being,  that  they  ex- 
ist in  him  ;  when  they  shall  feel  his  in- 
fluence cheering,  and  enlivening,  and 
supporting  their  frame,  in  a  manner  of 
which  we  have  now  no  conception!" 
He  will  be,  in  a  literal  sense,  their 
strength  and  their  portion  for  ever. 

Thus  we  look  forward  to  the  termi- 
nation of  the  mediatorial  kingdom,  as 
the  event  with  which  stands  associated 
our  reaching  the  summit  of  our  felici- 
ty. There  is  then  to  be  a  removal  of 
all  that  is  now  intermediate  in  our  com- 
munications with  Deity,  and  the  sub- 
stitution of  God  himself  for  the  objects 
which  he  has  now  adapted  to  the  giv- 
ing us  delight.  God  himself  will  be  an 
object  to  our  faculties;  God  himself 
will  be  our  happiness.  And  as  we  travel 
from  one  spot  to  another  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  enter  into  companionship 
with  different  sections  of  its  rejoicing 
population,  every  where  we  shall  carry 
Deity  with  us,  and  every  where  find 
Deity — not  as  now,  when  faith  must  all 


along  do  battle  with  sense,  but  in  mani- 
festations so  immediate,  so  direct,  so 
adapted  to  our  faculties  of  perception, 
that  we  shall  literally  see  God,  and  be 
in  contact  with  God;  and  oh  then,  if 
thought  recur  to  the  days  of  probation, 
when  all  that  concerns  us  was  admin- 
istered through  a  Mediator,  we  shall 
feel  that  whatever  is  most  illustrious  in 
dignity,  whatever  most  rapturous  in  en- 
joyment, was  promised  in  the  prophetic 
announcement,  that,  when  the  Son  shall 
have  delivered  up  the  kingdom  to  the 
Father,  God  himself  shall  be  all  in  all. 
We  can  only  add  that  it  becomes  us 
to  examine  whether  we  are  now  sub- 
jects of  the  mediatorial  kingdom,  or 
whether  we  are  of  those  who  will  not 
that  Christ  should  reign  over  them.  If 
God  is  hereafter  to  be  all  in  all,  it  be- 
hoves us  to  inquire  Avhat  he  is  to  us 
nowl  Can  we  say  with  the  Psalmist, 
"  whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee,  and 
there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire 
in  comparison  of  thee !"  How  vain 
must  be  our  hope  of  entering  into  hea- 
ven, if  we  have  no  present  delight  in 
what  are  said  to  be  its  joys.  A  chris- 
tian finds  his  happiness  in  holiness. 
And  therefore,  when  he  looks  forward 
to  heaven,  it  is  the  holiness  of  the 
scene,  and  association,  on  which  he 
fastens  as  affording  the  happiness.  He 
is  not  in  love  with  an  Arcadian  para- 
dise, with  the  green  pastures,  and  the 
flowing  waters,  and  the  minstrelsy  of 
many  harpers.  He  is  not  dreaming  of 
a  bright  island,  where  he  shall  meet 
buried  kinsfolk,  and,  renewing  domes- 
tic charities,  live  human  life  again  in 
all  but  its  cares,  and  tears,  and  part- 
ings. "Be  ye  holy,  for  I  am  holy" — 
this  is  the  precept,  attempted  conformi- 
ty to  which  is  the  business  of  a  chris- 
tian's life,  perfect  conformity  to  which 
shall  be  the  blessedness  of  heaven.  Let 
us  therefore  take  heed  that  we  deceive 
not  ourselves.  The  apostle  speaks  of 
''  tasting  the  powers  of  the  world  to 
come,"  as  though  heaven  were  to  be- 
gin on  this  side  the  grave.  We  may 
be  enamored  of  heaven,  because  we 
think  that  "  there  the  wicked  cease 
from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at 
rest."  We  may  be  enchanted  with  the 
poetry  of  its  descriptions,  and  fasci- 
nated by  the  brilliancy  of  its  color- 
ings, as  the  Evangelist  John  relates  his 
visions,  and  sketches  the  scenery  on 
20 


154 


THE    ADVANTAGES    RESULTING    FKOJI 


which  he  was  privileged  to  gaze.  But 
all  this  does  not  prove  us  on  the  high 
road  to  heaven.  Again  we  say,  that, 
if  it  be  heaven  towards  which  we  jour- 
ney, it  will  be   holiness  in  which  we 


delight :  for  if  we  cannot  now  rejoice 
in  having  God  for  our  portion,  where 
is  our  meetness  for  a  world  in  which 
God  is  to  be  all  in  all  for  ever  and  for 
ever  1 


SERMON    III. 


THE   ADVANTAGES  RESULTING  FROM  THE   POSSESSION 
OF   THE   SCRIPTURES.* 


"  What  advantage  then  hath  the  Jew  ?  or  what  profit  is  there  of  circnmcision  7    Much  every  way; 
chiefly  because  that  unto  them  were  committed  the  oracles  of  God," — Rom.  3  :  1,  2. 


We  think  it  unnecessary  either  to  ex- 
amine the  general  argument  with  which 
St.  Paul  was  engaged  when  he  penned 
these  words,  or  to  interpret  the  pas- 
sage with  reference  to  the  Jew  rather 
than  to  ourselves.    It  is  quite  evident 
that  the  force  of  the  verses  is  indepen- 
dent on  the  general  argument,  and  must 
have  been  increased  rather  than  dimi- 
nished, as  additions  were  made  to  the 
amount  of  Revelation.    It  was  objected 
to  the  apostle  that  he  represented  Jew 
and  Gentile  as  all  along  on  the  same 
level;  but  he  felt  that  the  objection  was 
removed   by  reminding  his    opponent 
that  the  Jew  had,  and  the  Gentile  had 
not,  the  sacred  Scriptures.    He  reck- 
oned it   sufficient   proof  that  an    un- 
measured advantage  had  lain  with  the 
chosen  people,  that  "  unto   them  had 
been  committed  the  oracles  of  God." 
This  is  a  high  testimony  to  the  worth 
of  the  Bible,  and  deserves  to  be  ex- 
amined with  the  greatest  attention.    Of 
course,  if  the  possession  of  but  a  few 
inspired  writings  gave  the  Jew  a  vast 
superiority  over  the  Gentile,  the  pos- 
session of  a   volume,  containing   the 

•  A  colleetion  was  made  after  this  Sermon  in 
support  of  the  Old  Charity  Schools. 


whole  of  revelation,  must  be  attended 
with  yet  greater  privileges.  It  should, 
however,  be  observed,  that  the  apostle 
seems  to  refer  to  more  than  the  mere 
possession  of  the  Bible :  the  expression 
which  he  employs  marks  out  the  Jews 
as  the  depository  of  revelation.  "Chief- 
ly because  that  unto  them  were  com- 
mitted, or  intrusted,  the  oracles  of 
God,"  There  may  be  here  an  intima- 
tion, that  those  who  have  the  Bible  are 
to  be  regarded  as  stewards,  just  as  are 
those  who  have  large  earthly  posses- 
sions. If  this  be  correct,  there  are  two 
points  of  view  under  which  it  will  be 
our  business  to  endeavor  to  set  before 
you  the  advantageousness  of  possess- 
ing God's  oracles.  We  must  show  that 
the  Bible  is  profitable  to  a  nation,  in 
the  first  place,  because  that  natioai  may 
be  improved  by  its  contents;  in  the 
second  place,  because  that  nation  may 
impart  them  to  others. 

Now  it  may  appear  so  trite  and  ac- 
knowledged a  truth,  that  a  people  is 
advantaged  by  possessing  the  Bible, 
that  it  were  but  wasting  time  to  spend 
much  on  its  exhibition.  We  are  not, 
however,  prepared  to  admit  that  the 
worth  of  the  Bible  is  generally  allow- 
ed, or  adequately  estimated ;  so  that. 


THE    POSSESSION    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES. 


155 


even  before  such  an  audience  as  the 
present,  we  would  enlarge  on  the  ad- 
vantages wliich  result  to  a  nation  from 
possessing  God's  oracles. 

We  take  at  first  the  lowest  ground  ; 
for  many  who  acknowledge  gratefully 
the  worth  of  Holy  Writ,  when  man  is 
viewed  relatively  to  an  after  state  of 
being,  seem  little  conscious  of  the 
blessings  derived  from  it,  when  he  is 
regarded  merely  in  reference  to  this 
earth.  It  were  no  over-bold  opinion, 
that,  if  the  Bible  were  not  the  word  of 
God,  and  could  be  proved  to  be  not 
the  word  of  God,  it  would  nevertheless 
be  the  most  precious  of  books,  and  do 
immeasurably  more  for  a  land  than  the 
finest  productions  of  literature  and  phi- 
losophy. We  always  recur  with  great 
delight  to  the  testimony  of  a  deist, 
who,  after  publicly  laboring  to  dis- 
prove Christianity,  and  to  bring  Scrip- 
ture into  contempt  as  a  forgery,  was 
found  instructing  his  child  from  the 
pages  of  the  New  Testament.  When 
taxed  with  the  flagrant  inconsistency, 
his  only  reply  was,  that  it  was  neces- 
sary to  teach  the  child  morality,  and 
that  nowhere  was  there  to  be  found 
such  morality  as  in  the  Bible.  We 
thank  the  deist  for  the  confession. 
Whatever  our  scorn  of  a  man  who 
could  be  guilty  of  so  foul  a  dishonesty, 
seeking  to  sweep  from  the  earth  a  vo- 
lume to  which,  all  the  while,  himself 
recurred  for  the  principles  of  educa- 
tion, we  thank  him  for  his  testimony, 
that  the  morality  of  Scripture  is  a  mo- 
rality not  elsewhere  to  be  found  ;  so 
that,  if  there  were  no  Bible,  there 
would  be  comparatively  no  source  of 
instruction  in  duties  and  virtues,  whose 
neglect  and  decline  would  dislocate  the 
happiness  of  human  society.  The  deist 
was  right.  Deny  or  disprove  the  divine 
origin  of  Scripture,  and  nevertheless 
you  must  keep  the  volume  as  a  kind 
of  text-book  of  morality,  if  indeed  you 
would  not  wish  the  banishment  from 
our  homes  of  all  that  is  lovely  and  sa- 
cred, and  the  breaking  up,  through  the 
lawlessness  of  ungovernable  passions, 
of  the  quiet  and  the  beauty  which  are 
yet  round  our  families. 

It  is  a  mighty  benefit,  invariably  pro- 
duced where  the  Bible  makes  way — the 
heightened  tone  of  morals,  and  the  in- 
troduction of  principles  essential  to  the 
stability  of  government,  and  the  well- 


being  of  households.  We  admit  indeed 
that  this  benefit  could  be  but  partially- 
wrought,  if  the  Bible  were  received  as 
only  a  human  composition.  We  do  not 
exactly  see  how  the  deist  was  to  en- 
force on  his  child  the  practice  of  what 
Scripture  enjoined,  if  he  denied  to  that 
Scripture  the  authority  drawn  from  the 
being  God's  word.  Yet  it  is  not  to  be 
doubted,  that,  even  where  there  is  but 
little  regard  to  the  divine  origin  of  the 
Bible,  the  book  wields  no  inconsidera- 
ble sway;  so  that  numbers,  who  care 
nothing  for  it  as  a  revelation  from  God, 
are  unconsciously  influenced  by  i-t"  in 
every  department  of  conduct.  The 
deist,  though  he  reject  revelation,  and 
treat  it  as  a  fable,  is  not  what  he  would 
have  been,  had  there  been  no  revela- 
tion. As  a  member  of  society,  he  has 
been  fashioned  and  cast  into  the  mould 
of  the  Bible,  however  vehement  in  his 
wish  to  exterminate  the  Bible.  It  is 
because  the  Bible  has  gained  footing 
in  the  land  where  he  dwells,  and  drawn 
a  new  boundary-line  between  what  is 
base  and  what  honorable,  what  unwor- 
thy of  rational  beings  and  what  excel- 
lent and  of  good  report,  that  he  has 
learned  to  prize  virtues  and  shun  vi- 
ces which  respectively  promote  and 
impede  the  happiness  of  families  and 
the  greatness  of  communities.  He  is 
therefore  the  ungracious  spectacle  of 
a  being  elevated  by  that  which  he  de- 
rides, ennobled  by  that  on  which  he 
throws  ridicule,  and  indebted  for  all  on 
which  he  prides  himself  to  that  which 
he  pronounces  unworthy  his  regard. 

And  if  it  be  thus  certain — certain  on 
the  confession  of  its  enemies — that  a 
pure  and  high  morality  is  to  be  ga- 
thered only  from  the  pages  of  the  Bi- 
ble, what  an  advantage  is  there  in  the 
possession  of  the  Scriptures,  even  if 
death  were  the  termination  of  human 
existence.  Take  away  the  Bible  from 
a  nation,  so  that  there  should  no  lon- 
ger be  the  exhibition  and  inculcation 
of  its  precepts,  and  there  would  be  a 
gradual,  yea,  and  a  rapid,  introduction 
of  false  principles  and  spurious  theo- 
ries, which  would  pave  the  way  for 
a  total  degeneracy  of  manners.  You 
would  quickly  find  that  honesty  and 
integrity  were  not  held  in  their  former 
repute,  but  had  given  place  to  fraud 
and  extortion  ;  that  there  was  an  uni- 
versal setting  up  of  an  idol  of  selfish- 


156 


THE    ADVANTAGES    RESULTING    FROM 


ness,  before  which  all  that  is  generous, 
and  disinterested,  and  philanthropic, 
would  be  forced  to  do  homage  ;  that 
there  was  attached  little  or  none  of 
that  sacredness  to  domestic  relation- 
ships which  had  heretofore  been  the 
chief  charm  of  families  ;  and  that  there 
was  departing  from  our  institutions  all 
that  is  glorious  in  liberty,  and  from  our 
firesides  all  that  gives  them  their  at- 
tractiveness. Whatever  had  been  intro- 
duced and  matured  by  the  operations 
of  Christianity,  would,  in  process  of 
time,  decay  and  disappear,  were  those 
opferations  suspended ;  and  since  we 
can  confidently  trace  to  the  influences 
of  true  religion,  our  advancement  in  all 
that  concerns  the  public  security,  and 
the  private  tranquillity  ;  we  can  with 
equal  confidence  affirm  our  speedy  re- 
lapse, if  these  influences  were  suddenly 
withdrawn.  And  therefore  do  we  feel 
that  we  give  an  exaggerated  statement, 
when  we  describe  the  possession  of 
the  Bible  as  the  possession  of  a  talis- 
man, by  which  the  worst  forms  of  evil 
are  averted  from  a  land,  and  the  best 
and  purest  blessings  shrined  in  its 
households. 

We  are  never  afraid  to  ascribe  to 
the  prevalence  of  true  religion,  that 
unmeasured  superiority  in  all  the  dig- 
nities and  decencies  of  life,  which  dis- 
tinguish a  christian  nation  as  com- 
pared with  a  heathen.  We  ascribe  it 
to  nothing  but  acquaintance  with  the 
revealed  will  of  God,  that  those  king- 
doms of  the  earth,  which  bow  at  the 
name  of  Jesus,  have  vastly  outstripped 
in  civilization  every  other,  whether 
ancient  or  modern,  which  may  be  de- 
signated pagan  and  idolatrous.  If  you 
search  for  the  full  developement  of 
the  principles  of  civil  liberty,  for  the 
security  of  properly,  for  an  evenhand- 
ed  justice,  for  the  rebuke  of  gross 
vices,  for  the  cultivation  of  social  vir- 
tues, and  for  the  difl^usion  of  a  gene- 
rous care  of  the  suffering,  you  must 
turn  to  lands  where  the  cross  has  been 
erected — as  though  Christianity  were 
identified  with  what  is  fine  in  policy, 
lofty  in  morals,  and  permanent  in  great- 
ness. Yea,  as  though  the  Bible  were 
a  mighty  volume,  containing  whatever 
is  requisite  for  correcting  the  disor- 
ders of  states  and  cementing  the  hap- 
piness of  families,  you  find  that  the 
causing  it  to  be  received  and  read  by 


a  people,  is  tantamount  to  the  produc- 
ing a  thorough  revolution — a  revolu- 
tion including  equally  the  palace  and 
the  cottage — so  that  every  rank  in  so- 
ciety, as  though  there  had  been  waved 
over  it  the  wand  of  the  magician,  is 
mysteriously  elevated,  and  furnished 
with  new  elements  of  dignity  and 
comfort.  Who  then  will  refuse  to 
confess,  that,  even  if  regard  were  had 
to  nothing  beyond  the  present  narrow 
scene,  there  is  no  gift  comparable  to 
that  of  the  Bible  ;  and  that  consequent- 
ly, though  a  nation  might  throw  away, 
as  did  the  Jewish,  the  greatest  of  their 
privileges,  and  fail  to  grasp  the  im- 
mortality set  before  them  in  the  re- 
velation intrusted  to  their  keeping, 
there  would  yet  be  proof  enough  of 
their  having  possessed  a  vast  advan- 
tage over  others,  in  the  fact  adduced 
by  St.  Paul  in  our  text,  that  "  unto 
them  had  been  committed  the  oracles 
of  God?" 

We  would  further  observe  that  we 
stand  indebted  to  the  Bible  for  much 
of  intellectual  as  well  as  moral  advan- 
tage. Indeed  the  two  go  together. 
Where  there  is  great  moral,  there  will 
commonly  be  great  mental  degrada- 
tion ;  and  the  intellect  has  no  fair  play, 
whilst  the  man  is  under  the  dominion 
of  vice.  It  is  certainly  to  be  observed, 
that,  in  becoming  a  religious  man,  an 
individual  seems  to  gain  a  wider  com- 
prehension, and  a  sounder  judgment ; 
as  though,  in  turning  to  God,  he  had 
sprung  to  a  higher  grade  in  intelli- 
gence. It  would  mark  a  weak,  or  at 
least  an  uninformed  mind,  to  look 
with  contempt  on  the  Bible,  as  though 
beneath  the  notice  of  a  man  of  high 
power  and  pursuit.  He  who  is  not 
spiritually,  will  be  intellectually  bene- 
fited by  the  study  of  Scripture  ;  and 
we  would  match  the  sacred  volume 
against  every  other,  when  the  object 
proposed  in  the  perusal  is  the  strength- 
ening the  understanding  by  contact 
with  lofty  truth,  or  refining  the  taste 
by  acquaintance  with  exquisite  beauty. 
And  of  course  the  intellectual  benefit 
is  greatly  heightened,  if  accompanied 
by  a  spiritual.  Man  becomes  in  the 
largest  sense  "  a  new  creature,"  when 
you  once  waken  the  dormant  immor- 
tality. It  is  not,  of  course,  that  there 
is  communicated  any  fresh  set  of  men- 
tal powers  5  but  there  is  removed  all 


THE    POSSESSION    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES. 


157 


that  weight  and  oppression  which  ig- 
norance and  viciousness  lay  upon  the 
brain.  And  what  is  true  of  an  indivi- 
dual is  true,  in  its  degree,  of  a  nation  ; 
the  diffusion  of  christian  knowledge 
being  always  attended  by  diffusion  of 
correct  views  in  other  departments  of 
truth,  so  that,  in  proportion  as  a  pea- 
santry is  christianized,  you  will  find  it 
more  inquiring  and  intelligent. 

And  there  is  no  cause  for  surprise  in 
the  fact,  that  intellectual  benefits  are 
conferred  by  the  Bible.    It  is  to  be  re- 
membered that  we  are  indebted  to  the 
Bible  for  all  our  knowledge  of  the  early 
history  of  the  world,  of  the  creation  of 
man,  and  of  his  first  condition  and  ac- 
tions.   Remove  the  Bible,  and  we  are 
left  to   conjecture   and   fable,   and  to 
that  enfeebling  of  the  understanding 
which    error   almost    necessarily  pro- 
duces.    Having  no  authentic  account 
of  the  origin  of  all  things,  we  should 
bewilder  ourselves  with  theories  which 
would  hamper  our  every  inquiry ;  and 
the  mind,  perplexed  and  baffled  at  the 
outset,  would  never  expand  freely  in 
its   after   investigations.     We    should 
have  confused  apprehensions  of  some 
unknown  powers  on  which  we  depend- 
ed, peopling  the  heavens  with  various 
deities,  and  subjecting  ourselves  to  the 
tyrannies   of   superstition.     And   it   is 
scarcely  to  be  disputed,  that  there  is, 
in  every  respect,  a  debasing  tendency 
in  superstition ;  and  that,  if  we   ima- 
gined the  universe  around  us  full  of  ri- 
val  and  antagonist   gods,   in    place  of 
knowing  it  under  the  dominion  of  one 
mighty  First  Cause,  we  should  enter  at 
a  vast  disadvantage  on  the  scrutiny  of 
the    wonders   by   which    Ave    are    sur- 
rounded ;  the  intellect  being  clouded 
by  the  mists  of  moral   darkness,  and 
all   nature    overcast   through  want  of 
knowledge  of  its  author. 

The  astronomer  may  have  been  guid- 
ed, however  unconsciously,  by  the  Bi 


to  trace  the  motions  of  stars,  and  laid 
open   to   their  gaze    mysteries   which 
had  heretofore  baffled  man's  sagacity. 
But  we  believe,  that,  just  because  their 
lot  was  cast  in   days,  and  in   scenes, 
when  and  where  the  Bible  had  been  re- 
ceived as  God's  word,  their  intellect 
had  freer  play  than  it  would  otherwise 
have  had,  and  their  mind  went  to  its 
work  with  greater  vigor,  and  less  im- 
pediment. We  believe  that  he  who  sets 
himself  to  investigate  the  revolutions 
of  planets,  knowing  thoroughly  before- 
hand who  made  those  planets  and  gov- 
erns their  motions,  would  be  incalcula- 
bly more  likely  to  reach  some  great 
discovery,  than  another  who  starts  in 
utter  ignorance  of  the  truths  of  crea- 
tion, and  ascribes  the  planets  to  chance, 
or  some  unintelligible  agency.    And  it 
is  nothing   against   this  opinion,    that 
some  who  have  been  eminent  by  scien- 
tific discoveries,  have  been  notorious 
for  rejection  of  Christianity  and  oppo- 
sition to  the  Bible.   Let  them  have  been 
even  atheists — they  have  been  atheists, 
not  in  a  land  of  atheists,  but  in  a  land 
of  worshippers  of  the  one  true  God  ; 
and  our  conviction  is,  that,  had  they 
been  atheists  in  a  land  of  atheists,  they 
would  never  have  so  signalized  them- 
selves by  scientific  discovery.    It  has 
been  through  living,  as  it  were,  in  an 
atmosphere    of    truth,    however    they 
themselves  have    imbibed    error,   that 
they  have  gained  that  elasticity  of  pow- 
ers which  has  enabled  them  to  rise  in- 
to unexplored  regions.    They  have  not 
been  ignorant  of  the  truths  of  the  Bi- 
ble, however  they  may  have  repudiated 
the  Bible  ;  and  these  truths  have  told 
on  all  their  faculties,  freeing  them  from 
trammels,   and   invigorating    them  for 
labor ;  so  that  very  possibly  the  emi- 
nence which  they  have   reached,  and 
where  they  rest  with  so  much  pride, 
would    have    been    as   inaccessible    to 
themselves  as  to  the  gifted  inquirers 


ble,  as  he  has  pushed  his  discoveries  I  of  heathen  times,  had  not  the  despised 
across  the  broad  fields  of  space.  Why  I  Gospel  pioneered  the  way,  and  the  re- 
is  il^  that  the  chief  secrets  of  nature  i  jected  Scriptures  unfettered  their  un- 
have  been  penetrated  only  in  christian  j  derstandings. 

times,  and  in  christian  lands ;  and  that  I  We  are  thus  to  the  full  as  persuaded 
men,  whose  names  are  first  in  the  roll  i  of  the  intellectual,  as  of  the  moral  bene- 
on   which    science    emblazons   her   a-  '  fits  produced  by  the  Bible.    We  reck- 


chievements,  have  been  men  on  whom 
fell  the  rich  light  of  revelation  1  We 
pretend  not  to  say  that  it  was  revela- 
tion which  directly  taught  them  how 


on,  that,  in  giving  the  inspired  volume 
to  a  nation,  you  give  it  that  which  shall 
cause  its  mental  powers  to  expand,  as 
well  as  that  which  shall  rectify  exist- 


158 


THE    ADVANTAGES    RESULTING    FROM 


ing  disorders.  And  if  you  would  ac- 
count for  the  superiority  of  christian 
over  heathen  lands  in  what  is  intellec- 
tually great,  in  philosophy,  and  sci- 
ence, and  the  stretch  and  the  grasp  of 
knowledge,  you  may  find  the  producing 
causes  in  the  possession  of  the  Scrip- 
tures— yea,  and  men  may  come  with 
all  the  bravery  of  a  boastful  erudition, 
and  demand  admiration  of  the  might  of 
the  human  mind,  as  it  seems  to  subju- 
gate the  universe,  counting  the  heaven- 
ly hosts,  and  tracking  comets  as  they 
sweep  along  where  the  eye  cannot  fol- 
low;  but  so  well  assured  are  we  that 
it  was  revelation  alone  whose  beams 
warmed  what  was  dwarfish  till  it  sprang 
into  this  vigor,  that  we  explain  the 
greater  mental  strength  which  a  nation 
may  display,  on  the  principle  "chiefly 
that  unto  them  have  been  committed 
the  oracles  of  God." 

But  if  we  can  thus  make  good  the 
advantageousness  asserted  in  our  text, 
when  the  reference  is  exclusively  to 
the  present  scene  of  being,  we  shall 
have  but  little  difficulty  when  we  take 
higher  ground.  Is  it  nothing  that  a 
people  may  put  from  them  the  offer  of 
immortality,  and  thus  bring  upon  them- 
selves at  last  a  heavier  condemnation, 
than  could  have  overtaken  them,  had 
they  never  heard  the  Gospel.  It  would 
be  for  the  final  advantage  of  the  indi- 
vidual who  dies  in  impenitence  and  in- 
fidelity, that  his  spirit  should  perish 
like  that  of  the  brutes ;  but  it  will  not, 
on  this  account,  be  contended  that  there 
was  no  blessing  in  his  being  born  a 
man.  In  like  manner,  it  cannot  be  ar- 
gued, that  there  has  been  nothing  pro- 
fitable in  the  possession  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, because  the  gift  has  been  abused 
or  neglected.  We  can  say  to  those  who 
as  yet  have  drawn  no  spiritual  benefit 
from  the  Bible,  the  opportunity  is  not 
gone ;  the  Scriptures  may  still  be 
searched,  and  life-giving  doctrines  de- 
rived from  their  statements.  And  is 
this  no  advantage  1  Is  it  no  advantage, 
that  salvation  is  brought  within  reach  ; 
and  does  it  nullify  the  advantage,  that 
men  will  not  stretch  forth  the  hand  to 
lay  hold  1 

And  even  if  the  mass  of  a  nation,  pri- 
vileged with  the  Bible,  have  their  por- 
tion at  last  \yith  the  unbelieving,  it  must 
not  be  forgotten,  that  there  is  in  every 
age  a  remnant  who  trust  in  the  Savior 


whom  that  Bible  reveals.  The  blessings 
which  result  from  the  possession  of  the 
Scriptures  are  not  to  be  computed  from 
what  appears  on  the  surface  of  society. 
There  is  a  quiet  under-current  of  hap- 
piness, which  is  generally  unobserved, 
but  which  greatly  swells  the  amount  of 
good  to  be  traced  to  the  Bible.  You 
must  go  into  families,  and  see  how  bur- 
dens are  lightened,  and  afflictions  miti- 
gated, by  the  promises  of  holy  writ. 
You  must  follow  men  into  their  re- 
tirements, and  learn  how  they  gather 
strength,  from  the  study  of  the  sacred 
volume,  for  discharging  the  various 
duties  of  life.  You  must  be  with  them 
in  their  struggles  with  poverty,  and  ob- 
serve how  contentment  is  engendered 
by  the  prospect  of  riches  which  cannot 
fade  away.  You  must  be  with  them  on 
their  death-beds,  and  mark  how  the 
gloom  of  the  opening  grave  is  scattered 
by  a  hope  which  is  "  full  of  immorta- 
lity." And  you  must  be  with  them — if 
indeed  the  spirit  could  be  accompanied 
in  its  heavenward  flight — as  they  enter 
the  Divine  presence,  and  prove,  by  tak- 
ing possession  of  the  inheritance  which 
the  Bible  offers  to  believers,  that  they 
"  have  not  followed  cunningly  devised 
fables."  The  sum  of  happiness  confer- 
red by  revelation  can  never  be  known 
until  God  shall  have  laid  open  all  se- 
crets at  the  judgment.  We  must  have 
access  to  the  history  of  every  indivi- 
dual, from  his  childhood  up  to  his  en- 
tering his  everlasting  rest,  ere  we  have 
the  elements  from  which  to  compute 
what  Christianity  hath  done  for  those 
who  receive  it  into  the  heart.  And  if 
but  one  or  two  were  gathered  out  from 
a  people,  as  a  result  of  conveying  to 
that  people  the  records  of  revelation, 
there  would  be,  we  may  not  doubt, 
such  an  amount  of  conferred  benefit  as 
would  sufliciently  prove  the  advan- 
tageousness of  possessing  the  oracles 
of  God. 

It  shall  not  be  in  vain  that  God  hath 
sent  the  Bible  to  a  nation,  and  caused 
the  truths  of  Christianity  to  be^ub- 
lished  within  its  borders.  There  may 
be  what  approximates  to  a  general  dis- 
regard of  the  Scriptures,  and  an  univer- 
sal rejection  of  the  offers  of  salvation. 
Yet  God  hath  his  hidden  ones  who  are 
delighting  greatly  in  his  testimonies. 
When  Elijah  complained  that  he  stood 
alone  iu  tiie  service  of  his  Maker,  the 


THE   POSSESSION    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES. 


159 


answer  of  God  was,  "  I  have  reserved 
to  myself  seven  thousand  men  who 
have  not  bowed  the  knee  to  the  image 
of  Baal."  We  are  therefore,  at  the  best, 
poor  judges  of  the  way  actually  made 
by  the  Gospel,  and  of  the  influence 
which  it  wields,  whilst  we  see  nothing 
on  all  sides  but  a  spreading  degenera- 
cy. When  profligacy  and  infidelity  are 
at  their  height,  there  may  be  many  a 
roof  beneath  which  is  offered  humble 
prayer  through  a  Mediator,  and  many 
an  eye  which  weeps  in  secret  for  dis- 
honors done  to  God,  and  many  a  heart 
which  beats  high  with  expectation  of 
the  land,  ''  where  the  wicked  cease 
from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at 
rest."  Are  we  not  then  bound  in  all 
cases,  when  seeking  full  evidence  that 
the  Bible  has  been  a  blessing  whereso- 
ever imparted,  to  refer  to  the  close  of 
the  dispensation,  when  Christ  shall  se- 
parate the  tares  from  the  wheat  1  Then 
will  it  be  told  to  the  universe,  how  a 
despised  and  overlooked  company  were 
"  filled  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory,"  by  the  Gospel  of  JesusChrist. 
Then  will  it  be  made  manifest  how  the 
consolations  of  religion  have  pervaded 
many  families,  what  anxieties  they 
have  soothed,  what  tears  they  have 
dried,  what  hopes  they  have  commu- 
nicated. Then  will  it  be  seen,  that,  over 
and  above  the  intellectual  and  moral 
advantages  which  the  Scriptures  have 
conferred  on  those  who  never  took 
them  as  their  guide  for  eternity,  spiri- 
tual advantages  have  been  derived  to 
others,  who  were  stirred  by  their  an- 
nouncements from  the  lethargy  of  sin, 
and  moved  to  flee  for  refuge  to  the 
cross  of  the  Redeemer.  Yea,  and  if  it 
even  came  to  pass  that  the  great  bulk 
of  a  people  shrank  away  from  the.  face 
of  the  Judge,  beaten  down  by  the  con- 
sciousness that  they  had  not  trusted  in 
him  as  the  propitiation  for  their  sins; 
yet  would  the  few  who  were  lifting  up 
their  heads  with  joy,  be  witnesses  that 
revelation  was  the  best  boon  which 
God  could  bestow  on  a  land — witness- 
es by  the  wrath  which  the  Bible  had 
taught  them  to  escape,  witnesses  by 
the  glory  it  had  instructed  them  to 
gain,  that,  in  every  case,  and  under  all 
circumstances,  it  was  a  mighty  advan- 
tage to  a  people,  that  "  unto  them  had 
been  committed  the  oracles  of  God." 
But  we  observed  that  the  expression 


employed  by  the  apostle,  "  chiefly  be- 
cause that  unto  them  were  committed, 
or  intrusted  the  oracles  of  God,"  re- 
presents the  Jews  as  stewards  who 
should  have  dispensed  the  Bible,  and 
who  might  themselves  have  been  pro- 
fited through  conveying  it  to  others. 
We  are  all  aware  that  special  promises 
are  made  in  the  Scriptures  to  those 
who  shall  be  instrumental  in  turning 
many  from  darkness,  and  converting 
sinners  from  the  error  of  their  ways. 
We  ordinarily  apply  these  promises  to 
individuals ;  and  we  expect  them  to  be 
made  good  to  the  zealous  minister,  and 
the  self-denying  missionary.  Undoubt- 
edly the  application  is  just ;  for  we 
cannot  question  that  those  who  have 
faithfully  and  successfully  labored  in 
winning  souls  to  Christ,  shall  receive  a 
portion  of  more  than  common  brillian- 
cy, when  the  Master  comes  to  reckon 
with  his  servants.  But  we  know  not 
why  these  promises  would  not  have 
been  as  applicable  to  communities  as 
to  individuals,  had  communities  re- 
garded God's  oracles  as  a  sacred  de- 
posit, and  themselves  as  stewards  who 
must  give  an  account  of  their  distribu- 
tion. The  earth  has  never  yet  present- 
ed the  grand  spectacle  of  what  might 
be  called  a  missionary  nation,  a  people 
who  felt  that  the  true  religion  was  held 
in  trust  for  the  benefit  of  the  world, 
and  who  concentered  their  energies 
on  the  being  faithful  in  the  steward- 
ship. It  cannot  be  said  that  the  Jews 
did  this,  though,  in  spite  of  their  fre- 
quent rebellions  and  lapses  into  idola- 
try, they  were  the  leaven  which  pre- 
vented the  complete  decomposition  of 
the  world,  and  the  light  which  alone  re- 
lieved the  ponderous  moral  darkness. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  we  ourselves 
have  done  this,  whatever  the  eflx)rts 
which  have  of  late  years  been  made 
for  translating  the  Scriptures  into  the 
various  languages,  and  conveying  them 
to  the  various  districts  of  the  globe. 
There  has  been  nothing  which  has  ap- 
proached to  a  national  recognition,  and 
a  national  acting  on  the  recognition, 
that  God  hath  made  this  land  the  de- 
pository of  his  Vv'ord,  in  order  that  we 
might  employ  those  resources,  which 
an  unlimited  commerce  places  at  our 
disposal,  in  diffusing  that  word  over 
the  enormous  wastes  of  paganism.  It 
is  not   by  the  endeavors  and  actions 


160 


THE    ADVANTAGES    RESULTING    FROM 


of  private  individuals  that  the  nation- 
al stewardship  can  be  faithfully  dis- 
charged. A  nation  must  act  through  its 
governors  ;  and  then  only  would  the  na- 
tion prove  its  sense,  that  the  oracles  of 
God  had  been  deposited  with  it  in  or- 
der to  distribution  through  the  world, 
when  its  governors  made  the  conver- 
sion of  the  heathen  one  great  object 
for  which  they  legislated  and  labored. 

In  this  manner  would  a  christian  state 
occupy  the  same  position  amongst  na- 
tions, as  an  affluent  christian  individual 
amongst  the  parishes  and  hamlets  of  a 
distressed  neighborhood.  Just  as  the 
individual  counts  it  his  business  and 
privilege,  to  communicate  of  his  tem- 
poral abundance  to  the  inmates  of  sur- 
rounding cottages,  so  would  the  state 
count  it  its  business  and  privilege  to 
communicate  of  its  spiritual  abundance 
to  the  ignorant  in  surrounding  territo- 
ries. And  however  little  ground  there 
may  be  for  a  hope  that  any  christian 
state  will  step  forward,  and  take  to  it- 
self the  missionary  character,  we  can 
be  sure  that  the  absence  of  all  national 
effort  to  disseminate  revelation  is  of- 
fensive in  God's  sight,  and  must  sooner 
or  later  provoke  retribution.  The  Bible 
is  not  given  to  a  people  exclusively  for 
their  own  use.  It  is  the  food  of  the 
whole  world,  the  volume  from  which 
whatever  is  human  must  draw  the 
soul's  sustenance.  And  no  more  right 
have  a  people  to  keep  this  book  to 
themselves,  whilst  thousands  in  other 
lands  are  worn  down  by  moral  famine, 
than  they  would  have  to  hoard  the 
earth's  fruits,  if  their  own  wants  were 
supplied,  and  the  cry  of  starving  mul- 
titudes swept  across  the  seas. 

Neither  would  the  faithful  discharge 
of  the  stewardship  be  without  its  re- 
ward. Our  text  affirms  it  for  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  people,  that  there  have 
been  deposited  with  them  the  oracles 
of  God.  We  may  conclude,  therefore, 
that,  in  acting  on  the  principle  that  the 
oracles  are  held  in  trust  for  the  benefit 
of  the  world,  a  people  would  secure 
the  recompense  graciously  annexed  to 
the  laboring  to  extend  the  kingdom  of 
Christ.  Who  indeed  that  remembers 
that  we  live  under  an  economy  of  strict 
retribution,  and  that  nations  can  only 
be  dealt  with  as  nations  on  this  side 
eternity,  will  see  cause  to  doubt  that 
the  earnest  discharge  of  what  we  call 


the  national  stewardship,  would  be  the 
best  means  of  advancing  and  upholding 
the  national  greatness  1 

Who  can  believe  of  a  people  circum- 
stanced like  ourselves,  that,  in  acting 
as  stewards  of  the  mysteries  of  God, 
we  should  erect  a  rampart  against  eve- 
ry enemy,  and  secure  continued  pro- 
gress in  all  that  makes  a  kingdom 
mighty.  There  are  mixed  up  with  the 
dealings  of  commerce  the  grandest 
purposes  of  God  towards  this  fallen 
creation.  Every  country  might  have 
been  its  own  store-house  of  every  ne- 
cessary and  every  luxury.  It  might 
have  possessed  within  its  own  confines 
the  productions  of  the  whole  globe, 
and  thus  have  had  but  little  motive  to 
intercourse  with  other  states.  But,  by 
diversifying  his  gifts,  God  hath  made  1 
it  for  the  profit  of  the  world,  that  there 
should  be  constant  interchange  of  pro- 
perty. Thus  facilities  are  afforded  for 
the  communication  of  moral  as  well  as 
physical  advantages ;  and  commerce 
may  become  the  great  propagator  of 
Christianity.  And  it  strikes  us  as  a  beau- 
tiful arrangement,  that  it  may  have 
been  with  the  express  design  of  provid- 
ing that  the  true  religion  should  spread 
its  branches  over  the  world,  that  God 
caused  the  palm-tree,  and  the  citron- 
tree,  to  grow  in  one  land  and  not  in 
another  ;  and  that,  in  order  to  bring 
the  pearl  of  great  price  within  reach  of 
all,  he  may  have  given  the  gold  to  this 
district,  and  the  diamond  to  that.  And 
when  the  ocean  is  before  us,  dotted 
with  vessels  hastening  to  every  quar- 
ter of  the  earth,  or  returning  with  the 
produce  of  far-off  islands  and  conti- 
nents, we  look  on  a  nobler  spectacle 
than  that  of  human  ingenuity  and  har- 
dihood triumphing  over  the  elements, 
that  wealth  may  be  accumulated  and 
appetite  pampered — we  are  beholding 
the  machinery  through  which  God  hath 
ordained  that  the  sections  of  the  hu- 
man family  should  be  kept  knit  toge- 
ther, and  the  preparations  which  he 
hath  made  for  the  diffusion  of  Christi- 
anity, when  the  word  shall  be  given, 
and  "  great  shall  be  the  company  of 
the  preachers."  It  has  not  therefore 
been  without  a  view  to  the  mainte- 
nance of  truth  and  the  spread  of  reli- 
gion, that  God  hath  given  to  this  land 
the  empire  of  the  seas,  and  opened  to 
it    intercourse  with  every    section    of 


THE    POSSESSION    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES. 


161 


the  globe.  We  rather  believe  that  we 
have  been  made  great  in  commerce, 
that  we  might  be  great  in  the  diffusion 
of  knowledge.  With  our  fleets  on  eve- 
ry sea,  and  unbounded  wealth  accumu- 
lated in  our  cities,  there  needs  nothing 
but  that,  as  a  nation,  we  should  feel 
our  accountableness,  and  rapidly  might 
the  records  of  revelation  make  their 
way  through  the  world.  And  if  we  were 
thus  instrumental  to  the  spread  of  the 
Gospel,  thus  faithful  to  our  steward- 
ship, it  would  not  be  foreign  aggression, 
nor  domestic  insubordination,  from 
which  there  would  be  danger  to  the 
land  of  our  birth  ;  there  would  be  per- 
manence in  our  might,  because  wield- 
ed in  God's  cause,  and  fixedness  in  our 
prosperit}'',  because  consecrated  by  pie- 
ty. And  as  glory  and  greatness  flowed 
in  upon  us,  and  the  stewards  of  the  Bi- 
ble stood  forth  as  the  sovereigns  of  the 
\vorld,  other  causes  of  the  elevation 
might  indeed  be  assigned  by  the  poli- 
tician and  philosopher ;  but  the  true 
reason  would  be  with  those  who  should 
give  in  explanation,  "  Chiefly  because 
that  unto  them  were  committed  the 
oracles  of  God." 

I  may  here  refer  for  a  moment  to 
that  charitable  cause  for  which  I  am 
directed  to  ask  your  support.  It  must 
be  sufficient  to  remind  you,  intrusted 
as  you  are  with  the  Bible,  that  there 
are  hundreds  of  children  in  this  town 
requiring  to  be  educated  in  the  princi- 
ples of  the  Bible,  and  you  will  contri- 
bute liberally  towards  upholding  the 
schools  which  now  make  their  usual 
appeal  to  your  bounty.  There  have 
been  times  when  it  was  necessary  to 
debate  and  demonstrate  the  duty  of 
providing  instruction  for  the  children 
of  the  poor.  Such  times  are  gone.  We 
have  now  no  choice.  He  were  as  wise 
a  man  who  should  think  to  roll  back 
the  Atlantic,  as  he  who  would  stajr  the 
advancing  tide  of  intelligence  which  is 
pressing  through  the  land.  You  cannot, 
if  you  would.  And  I  do  not  believe 
there  is  one  here  who  would  lift  a  fin- 
ger in  so  unrighteous  an  enterprise. 
Here,  if  any  where,  a  man  may  glory 
in  that  general  outstretching  of  the  hu- 
man mind  which  is  characteristic  of 
the  times;  and  rejoice  in  the  fact,  that 
in  knowledge,  and  mental  develope- 
ment,  the  lower  classes  are  following 
so  close  on  the  higher,  that  these  latter 


must  go  on  with  a  vigorous  stride,  if 
they  would  not  be  quickly  overtaken. 
It  is  not  in  such  a  seat  of  learning  as 
this,  that  we  shall  find  dislike  to  the 
spread  of  information.  Knowledge  is 
a  generous  and  communicative  thing, 
and  jealousy  at  its  progress  is  ordina- 
rily the  index  of  its  wants.  You  would 
not,  if  you  could,  arrest  the  progress 
of  education.  But  you  may  provide 
that  the  education  shall  be  christian 
education.  You  may  thus  ensure  that 
education  shall  be  a  blessing,  not  a 
curse  ;  and  save  the  land  from  being 
covered  with  that  wildest  and  most  un- 
manageable of  all  populations,  a  popu- 
lation mighty  alike  in  intellect  and  un- 
godliness, a  population  that  knows  eve- 
ry thing  but  God,  emancipated  from  all 
ignorance  but  that  which  is  sure  to 
breed  the  worst  lawlessness,  ignorance 
of  the  duties  of  the  religion  of  Christ. 
An  uneducated  population  may  be  de- 
graded ;  a  population  educated,  but  not 
in  righteousness,  will  be  ungovernable. 
The  one  may  be  slaves,  the  other  must 
be  tyrants. 

We  have  now  only,  in  conclusion,  to 
express  an  earnest  hope  that  we  may 
all  learn,  from  the  subject  discussed, 
to  set  a  higher  value  than  ever  on  the 
Scriptures.  Do  we  receive  the  Bible 
as  ''  the  oracles  of  Godi"  The  Bible 
is  as  actually  a  divine  communication 
as  though  its  words  came  to  us  in  the 
voice  of  the  Almighty,  mysteriously 
syllabled,  and  breathed  from  the  firma- 
ment. What  awe,  what  reverence,  what 
prostration  of  soul,  would  attend  the 
persuasion  that  such  is  the  Bible  ;  so 
that  opening  it  is  like  entering  the  hal- 
lowed haunt  of  Deity,  whence  unearth- 
ly lips  will  breathe  oracular  responses. 
There  needs  nothing  but  an  abiding 
conviction  that  Scripture  remains,  what 
it  was  at  the  first,  the  word  of  the  liv- 
ing God — not  merely  a  written  thing, 
but  a  spoken  ;  as  much  a  message  now 
as  when  originally  delivered — and  the 
volume  will  be  perus;ed,  as  it  ought  to 
be,  in  humility,  yet  in  hope,  with  prayer, 
yet  with  confidence.  And  when  God  is 
regarded  as  always  speaking  to  his 
creatures  through  the  volume  of  reve- 
lation, there  will  be  no  marvel  that, 
practically,  this  volume  should  be  in- 
fluential on  the  moral  and  mental,  the 
temporal  as  well  as  eternal,  interests  of 
man.  "  The  voice  of  the  Lord,"  saith 
21 


162 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    GOSPEL    FOLLOWED    BY    ITS    REMOVAL. 


the  Psalmist,  "is  upon  the  waters ;  the  land  fan  the  sparks  of  genius,  as  well 
voice  of  the  Lord  divideth  the  flames    as   summon  from   the  perishable,   and 
of  fire :"  and  well  therefore  may  this    guide  to  the  immortal, 
voice  correct  the  disorders  of  states,  | 


4 


SERMON     IV. 


NEGLECT  OF  THE  GOSPEL  FOLLOWED  BY  ITS  REMOVAL. 


"  Remember  therefore  from  wlience  tlion  art  fallen,  and  repent,  and  do  the  first  worlis  ;  or  else  I 
will  come  unto  thee  quickly,  and  will  remove  thy  candlestick  out  of  his  place,  except  thou  re- 
pent."— Revelation,  2  :  5, 


In  our  last  discourse  we  endeavored 
to  set  before  you  the  advantages  re- 
sulting from  the  possession  of  God's 
oracles :  the  words  which  we  have  just 
read  will  lead  us  to  speak  of  dangers 
produced  by  their  neglect.  The  text 
contains  an  exhortation,  and  a  threat- 
ening, with  which  Ave  have  evidently 
as  great  concern,  as  had  the  church  of 
Ephesus  to  which  they  were  originally 
addressed.  "  The  exhortation — an  ex- 
hortation to  repentance — is  one  which 
we  shall  do  well  to  apply  to  ourselves  5 
the  threatening — a  threatening  that  the 
candlestick  shall  be  removed — may 
take  effect  in  our  own  days  as  well  as 
in  earlier. 

Now  there  are  few  duties  to  which 
men  are  more  frequently  urged,  and  in 
regard  to  which,  nevertheless,  they 
are  more  likely  to  be  deceived,  than 
the  great  duty  of  repentance.  It  is  of 
the  first  importance,  that  the  exact 
place  and  nature  of  this  duty  should  be 
accurately  defined  ;  for  so  long  as  there 
is  any  thing  of  misapprehension,  or 
mistake,  in  regard  to  repentance,  there 
can  be  no  full  appreciation  of  the  prof- 
fered mercies  of  the  Gospel.  It  seems 
to  be  too  common  an  opinion,  that  re- 
pentance is  a  kind  of  preparation,  or 
preliminary,  which  men  are  in  a  great 
degree  to  effect  for  themselves  before 


they  can  go  to  Christ  as  a  mediator 
and  propitiation.  Repentance  is  regard- 
ed as  a  something  which  they  have  to 
do,  a  condition  they  have  to  perform, 
in  order  that  they  may  be  fitted  to  ap- 
ply to  the  Redeemer,  and  ask  a  share 
in  the  blessings  which  he  purchased 
for  mankind.  We  do  not,  of  course, 
deny  that  there  must  be  repentance 
before  there  can  be  forgiveness;  and 
that  it  is  only  to  the  broken  and  con- 
trite heart  that  Christ  extends  the  fruits 
of  his  passion.  We  say  to  every  man 
who  may  be  inquiring  as  to  the  pardon 
of  sin,  except  you  repent  you  cannot 
be  forgiven.  But  the  question  is,  whe- 
ther a  man  must  Avait  till  he  has  re- 
pented before  he  applies  to  Christ  5 
whether  repentance  is  a  preliminary 
Avhich  he  has  to  effect,  ere  he  may 
venture  to  seek  to  a  mediator.  And  it 
is  here,  as  Ave  think,  that  the  mistake 
lies,  a  mistake  AA'hich  turns  repentance 
into  a  kind  of  obstacle  betAveen  the  sin- 
ner and  Christ. 

The  scriptural  doctrine  in  regard  to 
repentance  is  not,  that  a  man  must  re- 
pent in  order  to  his  being  qualified  to 
go  to  Christ ;  it  is  rather,  that  he  must 
go  to  Christ  in  order  to  his  being  en- 
abled to  repent.  And  the  difference 
betAveen  these  propositions  is  manifest 
and  fundamental.    There  Avould  be  no 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    GOSPEL    FOLLOWED    BY    ITS    REMOVAL. 


163 


virtue  in  our  repentance,  even  if  Ave 
could  repent  of  ourselves,  to  recom- 
mend us  to  the  favor  of  the  Redeemer  ; 
but  there  goes  forth  virtue  from  the 
Redeemer  himself,  strengthening  us 
for  that  repentance  which  is  alone  ge- 
nuine and  acceptable.  St.  Peter  suffi- 
ciently laid  down  this  doctrine,  when 
he  said  of  Christ  to  the  high  priest  and 
Sadducees,  "  him  hath  God  exalted 
with  his  right  hand  to  be  a  Prince  and 
a  Savior,  for  to  give  repentance  to  Is- 
rael, and  forgiveness  of  sins."  Here  re- 
pentance is  stated  to  be  as  much  the 
gift  of  the  glorified  Christ  as  forgive- 
ness— a  statement  inconsistent  with 
the  notion,  that  repentance  is  some- 
thing which  must  be  effected  without 
Christ,  as  a  ground  on  which  to  rest 
our  application  to  him  for  pardon.  We 
rather  gather  from  these  words  of  the 
apostle,  that  we  can  no  more  repent 
without  Christ  than  be  pardoned  with- 
out Christ :  from  him  comes  the  grace 
of  contrition  as  well  as  the  cleansing 
of  expiation. 

There  may  indeed  be  the  abandon- 
ment of  certain  vicious  practices,  and  a 
breaking  loose  from  habits  which  have 
held  the  soul  in  bondage.  Long  ere  the 
man  thinks  of  applying  to  Christ,  and 
whilst  almost  a  stranger  to  his-  name, 
he  may  make  a  great  advance  in  refor- 
mation of  conduct,  renouncing  much 
which  his  conscience  has  declared 
wrong,  and  entering  upon  duties  of 
which  he  has  been  neglectful.  But  this 
comes  far  short  of  that  thorough  mor- 
al change  which  is  intended  by  the 
inspired  writers,  when  they  speak  of 
repentance.  The  outward  conduct  may 
be  amended,  whilst  no  attack  is  made  on 
the  love  of  sin  as  seated  in  the  heart ; 
so  that  the  change  may  be  altogether 
on  the  surface,  and  extend  not  to  the 
affections  of  the  inner  man.  But  the 
repentance,  required  of  those  who  are 
forgiven  through  Christ,  is  a  radical 
change  of  mind  and  of  spirit ;  a  change 
which  will  be  made  apparent  by  a  cor- 
responding in  the  outward  deportment, 
but  whose  great  scene  is  within,  and 
which  there  affects  every  power  and 
propensity  of  our  nature.  And  a  re- 
pentance such  as  this,  seeing  it  mani- 
festly lies  beyond  the  reach  of  our  own 
strivings,  is  only  to  be  obtained  from 
Christ,  who  ascended  up  on  high,  and 
"received  gifts  for  the  rebellious,"  be- 


coming, in  his  exaltation,  the  source 
and  dispenser  of  those  various  assist- 
ances which  fallen  beings  need  as  pro- 
bationers for  eternity. 

What  then  is  it  which  a  man  has  to 
do  who  is  desirous  of  becoming  truly 
repentant  1  We  reply  that  his  great 
business  is  earnest  prayer  to  Christ, 
that  he  would  give  him  the  Holy  Spir- 
it, to  enable  him  to  repent.  Of  course 
we  do  not  mean  that  he  is  to  confine 
himself  to  prayer,  and  make  no  effort 
at  correcting  what  may  be  wrong  in 
his  conduct.  The  sincerity  of  his  pray- 
er can  only  be  proved  by  the  vigor  of 
his  endeavor  to  obey  God's  commands. 
But  we  mean,  that,  along  with  his  stren- 
uousness  in  renouncing  evil  habits  and 
associations,  there  must  be  an  abiding 
persuasion  that  repentance,  as  well  as 
forgiveness,  is  to  be  procured  through, 
nothing  but  the  atoning  sacrifice  of 
Christ;  and  this. persuasion  must  make 
him  unwearied  in  entreaty,  that  Christ 
would  send  into  his  soul  the  renovating 
power.  It  may  be  urged  that  Christ 
pardons  none  but  the  penitent ;  but  our 
statement  rather  is,  that  those  whom 
he  pardons  he  first  makes  penitent. 

And  shall  we  be  told  that  we  thus 
reduce  man  below  the  level  of  an  in- 
telligent, accountable  being ;  making 
him  altogether  passive,  and  allotting 
him  no  task  in  the  struggle  for  immor- 
tality 1  We  throw  back  the  accusation 
as  altogether  unfounded.  We  call  upon 
man  for  the  stretch  of  every  muscle, 
and  the  strain  of  every  power.  As  to 
his  being  saved  in  indolence,  saved  in 
inactivity,  he  may  as  well  look  for  har- 
vest where  he  has  never  sown,  and  for 
knowledge  where  he  has  never  studied. 
Is  it  to  be  an  idler,  is  it  to  be  a  slug- 
gard, to  have  to  keep  down  that  pride 
which  would  keep  him  from  Christ ;  to 
be  wrestling  with  those  passions  which 
the  light  that  is  in  him  shows  must  be 
mortified;  to  be  unwearied  in  petition 
for  the  assistances  of  the  Spirit,  and  in 
using  such  helps  as  have  been  already 
vouchsafed!  If  this  be  idleness,  that 
man  is  an  idler  who  is  actuated  by  the 
consciousness,  that  he  can  no  more  re- 
pent than  be  pardoned  without  Christ. 
But  if  it  be  to  task  a  man  to  the  utmost 
of  his  energy,  to  prescribe  that  he  go 
straightway  for  every  thing  which  he 
needs  to  an  invisible  INIediator ;  go,  in 
i  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  flesh  ;  go, 


164- 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    GOSl'EL    FOLLOWED    BY    ITS    REMOVAL. 


though  the  path  lies  through  resisting 
inclinations  ;  go,  though  in  going  lie 
must  abase  himself  in  the  dust,  and 
proclaim  his  own  nothingness;  then 
we  are  exhorting  the  impenitent  to  the 
mightiest  of  labors,  when  we  exhort 
them  to  seek  repentance  as  Christ's 
gift.  The  assigning  its  true  place  to 
repentance;  the  destroying  the  notion 
that  repentance  is  to  be  eflected  for 
ourselves,  and  then  to  recommend  us 
to  the  Savior  ;  this,  in  place  of  telling 
men  that  they  have  little  or  nothing  to 
do,  is  the  urging  them  to  diligence  by 
showing  how  it  may  be  successful ; 
and  to  efi'ort,  by  pointing  out  the  alone 
channel  through  which  it  can  prevail. 
And  if  there  be  given  to  the  angel  of 
a  church  the  same  commission  as  was 
given  to  the  angel  of  the  church  at 
Ephesus,  so  that  he  must  come  down 
upon  a  careless  or  backsliding  congre- 
gation with  a  stern  and  startling  sum- 
mons ;  never  let  it  be  thought  that  he 
either  keeps  out  of  sight  the  moral 
inabilities  of  man,  or  urges  to  an  inert 
and  idle  dependance,  when  he  expati- 
ates on  the  necessity,  and  exhorts  to 
the  duty,  of  repentance — he  is  preach- 
ing that  Christ  is  all  in  all,  and  never- 
theless he  is  animating  his  hearers  to 
strive  for  the  mastery,  and  struggle  for 
deliverance,  when  he  entreats  them  in 
the  words  of  our  text,  to  ''remember 
from  whence  they  are  fallen,  and  re- 
pent, and  do  the  first  works." 

But  there  is  more  in  this  exhortation 
than  the  summons  to  repentance:  me- 
mory is  appealed  to  as  an  assistant  in 
the  duty  to  which  men  are  called.  In 
other  parts  of  Scripture  we  find  great 
worth  attached  to  consideration — as 
when  the  Psalmist  says,  ''  I  thought  on 
my  ways,  and  turned  my  feet  to  thy 
testimonies."  Here  the  turning  to 
God's  testimonies  is  given  by  David 
as  an  immediate  consequence  on  the 
thinking  on  his  ways,  as  though  con- 
sideration were  alone  necessary  to  in- 
sure a  speedy  repentance.  The  great 
evil  with  the  mass  of  men  is,  that,  so 
far  at  least  as  eternity  is  concerned, 
they  never  think  at  all — once  make 
them  think,  and  you  make  them  anx- 
ious;  once  make  them  anxious,  and 
they  will  labor  to  be  saved.  When  a 
man  considers  his  ways,  angels  may  be 
said  to  prepare  their  harps,  as  know- 
ing that  they  shall  soon  have  to  sweep 


them  in  exultation  at  his  repentance. 

And  it  is  urging  you  to  this  consid- 
eration, to  urge  you  to  the  remember- 
ing from  whence  you  are  fallen.  We 
all  know  what  a  power  there  is  in  me- 
mory, when  made  to  array  before  the 
guilty  days  and  scenes  of  comparative 
innocence.  It  is  with  an  absolutely 
crushing  might  that  the  remembrance 
of  the  years  and  home  of  his  boy- 
hood will  come  upon  the  criminal,  when 
brought  to  a  pause  in  his  career  of  mis- 
doing, and  perhaps  about  to  sufler  its 
penalties.  If  we  knew  his  early  histo- 
ry, and  it  would  bear  us  out  in  the  at- 
tempt, we  should  make  it  our  business 
to  set  before  him  the  scenery  of  his  na- 
tive village,  the  cottage  where  he  was 
born,  the  school  to  which  he  was  sent, 
the  church  where  he  first  heard  the 
preached  Gospel;  and  we  should  call 
to  his  recollection  the  father  and  the 
mother,  long  since  gathered  to  their 
rest,  who  piade  him  kneel  down  night 
and  morning,  and  who  instructed  him 
out  of  the  Bible,  and  who  warned  him, 
even  with  tears,  against  evil  ways  and 
evil  companions.  We  should  remind 
him  how  peacefully  his  days  then  gli- 
ded away  ;  with  how  much  of  happi- 
ness he  was  blessed  in  possession,  how- 
much  of  hope  in  prospect.  And  he  may 
be  now  a  hardened  and  desperate  man  : 
but  we  will  never  believe,  that,  as  his 
young  days  were  thus  passing  before 
him,  and  the  reverend  forms  of  his  pa- 
rents came  back  from  the  grave,  and 
the  trees  that  grew  round  his  birth- 
place waved  over  him  their  foliage,  and 
he  saw  himself  once  more  as  he  was  in 
early  life,  when  he  knew  crime  but  by 
name,  and  knew  it  only  to  abhor — we 
will  never  believe  that  he  could  be  proof 
against  this  mustering  of  the  past — he 
might  be  proof  against  invective,  proof 
against  reproach,  proof  against  remon- 
strance ;  but  when  w'e  brought  memo- 
ry to  bear  upon  him,  and  bade  it  peo- 
ple itself  with  all  the  imagery  of  youth, 
we  believe  that,  for 'the  moment  at 
least,  the  obdurate  being  would  be  sub- 
dued, and  a  sudden  gush  of  tears  prove 
that  we  had  opened  a  long  sealed-up 
fountain. 

And  we  know  no  reason  why  there 
should  not  be  a  like  power  in  memory, 
in  cases  which  have  no  analogy  with 
this,  except  in  the  general  fact,  that 
men  arc  not  what  they  were.   If  we  ar- 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    GOSl'EL    FOLLOWED    BY    ITS    REMOVAL. 


165 


ray  before  us  the  records  of  man's  pris-  ' 
tine  condilion,  and  avail  ourselves  of 
such  intelligence  as  it  hath  pleased  God 
to  vouchsafe,  we  may  with  sufficient 
truth  be  said  to  remember  whence  we 
fell.  And  very  energetic  and  persua- 
sive would  be  this  remembrance.  We 
should  feel  that  we  were  gaining  a 
great  moral  hold  on  a  man,  if  we  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  contrast  what  he  is, 
with  what  Adam  was  ere  he  ate  the 
forbidden  fruit.  It  is  a  contrast  which 
must  produce  the  sense  of  utter  degra- 
dation. The  waving  trees  of  Paradise, 
and  the  glorious  freshness  of  the  young 
creation,  and  the  unrestrained  inter- 
course with  God,  and  the  beautiful  tran- 
quillity of  human  life — these  will  make 
the  same  kind  of  appeal,  as  the  fields 
where  we  played  in  our  boyhood,  and 
the  roof  which  sheltered  us  whilst  yet 
untutored  in  the  vices,  and  unblench- 
ed  by  the  sorrows  of  the  world.  I  was 
by  creation  a  lofty  being,  with  a  com- 
prehensive understanding,  a  will  that 
always  moved  in  harmony  with  the  di- 
vine, and  affections  that  fastened  on 
the  sublime  and  indestructible.  I  am, 
through  apostacy,  a  wayward  thing, 
with  crippled  energies,  contracted  ca- 
pacities, and  desires  engrossed  by  the 
perishable.  I  had  a  body  that  was  heir 
to  no  decay,  a  soul  rich  in  the  impress 
of  Deity  ;  but  now  I  must  go  down  to 
the  dust,  and  traces  of  the  defaced 
image  are  scarcely  to  be  found  on  my 
spirit.  I  had  heaven  before  me,  and 
might  have  entered  it  through  an  obe- 
dience which  could  hardly  be  called  a 
trial  J  but  now,  depraved  in  inclination, 
and  debased  in  power,  to  what  can  I 
look  forward  but  tribulation  and  wrath  1 
Oh,  this  it  is  to  remember  from  whence 
I  am  fallen. 

And  if  I  have  been,  like  the  Ephe- 
sian  Church,  what  Scripture  calls  a 
backslider,  may  not  memory  tell  me  of 
comforts  I  experienced,  when  walking 
closely  with  God,  of  seasons  of  deep 
gladness  when  I  had  mortified  a  pas- 
sion, of  communion  with  eternity  so 
real  and  distinct  that  I  seemed  already 
delivered  from  the  trammels  of  fleshl 
It  may  well  be,  if  indeed  I  have  de- 
clined in  godliness,  that,  though  mu- 
sing on  past  times,  there  will  be  ex- 
cited within  me  a  poignant  regret. 
There  will  come  back  upon  me,  as  upon 
the  criminal  in  his  cell,  the  holy  music 


of  better  days;  and  there  will  be  a  pe- 
netrating power  in  the  once  gladdening 
but  now  melancholy  strain,  which  there 
would  not  be  in  the  shrill  note  of  ven- 
geance. And  thus  in  each  case,  memo- 
ry may  be  a  mighty  agent  in  bringing 
me  to  repentance.  It  can  scarcely  come 
to  pass,  that  I  should  diligently  and  se- 
riously remember  whence  I  am  fallen, 
and  yet  be  conscious  of  no  desire  to 
regain  the  lost  position.  I  cannot  gaze 
on  Paradise,  and  not  long  to  leave  the 
wilderness;  1  cannot  see  in  myself  the 
wanderer,  and  not  yearn  for  the  home 
I  have  forsaken.  And  therefore  is  there 
a  beautiful  appropriateness  in  the  mes- 
sage with  which  St.  John  was  charged 
to  the  angel  of  the  church  at  Ephesus. 
We  know  that  except  men  repent,  ex- 
cept the  indifferent  be  roused  to  earn- 
estness, the  backsliding  recovered  to 
consistency,  nothing  can  prevent  their 
final  destruction.  And  wishing  to  bring 
them  to  repentance,  we  would  waken 
memory  from  her  thousand  cells,  and 
bid  her  pour  forth  the  imag^y  of  what 
they  were,  that  they  may  contrast  it 
with  what  they  are.  If  we  can  arm 
against  them  their  own  recollections, 
we  feel  that  we  shall  have  brought  to 
bear  the  most  powerful  of  engines.  Our 
appeal  is  therefore  to  the  past,  our  sum- 
mons is  to  the  shades  of  the  dead.  And 
though  we  know  that  no  remonstrance, 
and  no  exhortation,  can  be  of  avail,  ex- 
cept as  carried  to  the  heart  by  the  Spi- 
rit of  the  living  God,  yet  are  we  so  per- 
suaded of  the  power  of  consideration, 
and  of  the  likelihood  that  those  who 
are  brought  to  consider  their  ways  will 
go  on  to  reform  them,  that  we  think  we 
prescribe  what  cannot  fail  of  success, 
when,  in  order  that  men  may  repent, 
we  entreat  them,  in  the  words  of  our 
text,  to  remember  from  whence  they 
are  fallen,  and  do  the  first  works. 

But  we  turn  from  the  exhortation  to 
the  threatening  contained  in  our  text, 
"  I  will  come  unto  thee  quickly,  and 
will  remove  thy  candlestick  out  of  his 
place,  except  thou  repent."  It  is  not 
difficult  to  determine  what  the  calami- 
ty is  which  is  figuratively  denoted  by 
the  removal  of  the  candlestick.  St. 
John  had  beheld  one  like  unto  the  Son 
of  man,  magnificently  and  mysterious- 
ly arrayed,  standing  in  the  midst  of 
seven  golden  candlesticks,  and  hold- 
ing in  his  right  hand  seven  stars.    The 


166 


NEGLECT   OF   THE    GOSPEL   FOLLOWED    BY   ITS   REMOVAL. 


evangelist  is  expressly  informed  that 
the  seven  stars  are  the  angels,  or  bi- 
shops, of  the  seven  churches;  and 
that  the  seven  candlesticks  are  those 
churches  themselves.  Hence  the  can- 
dlestick represents  the  christian  church 
as  erected  in  any  land;  and  therefore 
the  removing  the  candlestick  out  of  his 
place  can  mean  nothing  less  than  the 
unchurching  a  nation,  the  so  withdraw- 
ing from  them  the  Gospel  that  they 
shall  lose  the  distinctive  marks  of  a 
christian  community.  We  need  not  be 
over-careful  as  to  the  exactness  with 
which  we  preserve  the  metaphor.  If 
the  candlestick  be  removed,  the  mean- 
ing must  be  that  the  spiritual  light  is 
removed;  or  that  a  land  which  has 
been  blessed  with  a  knowledge  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  thereby  brought  specially 
into  covenant  with  God,  is  deprived  of 
the  advantages  which  it  has  failed  to 
improve,  and  dislodged  from  the  re- 
lationship into  which  it  had  been  ad- 
mitted. 

And  thiJ*may  take  place,  for  undoubt- 
edly this  has  taken  place.  There  are 
indeed  clear  and  encouraging  promises 
in  Scripture,  sufficient  to  assure  us  that 
neither  outward  opposition,  nor  inward 
corruption,  shall  prevail  to  the  extinc- 
tion of  Christ's  church  upon  earth.  But 
these  promises  refer  generally  to  the 
church,  and  not  to  this  or  that  of  its 
sections.  They  give  no  ground  for  ex- 
pecting that  the  church,  for  example, 
of  England,  or  the  church  of  Rome, 
will  never  cease  to  be  a  church — on 
the  contrary,  their  tenor  is  quite  com- 
patible with  the  supposition,  that  Eng- 
land or  Rome  may  so  pervert,  or  abuse, 
the  Gospel,  as  to  provoke  God  to  with- 
draw it,  and  give  it  to  lands  now  over- 
run with  heathenism.  There  may  be, 
and  there  are,  promises  that  there  shall 
be  always  a  candle  in  the  world;  but 
the  candlestick  is  a  moveable  thing, 
and  may  be  placed  successively  in  dif- 
ferent districts  of  the  earth. 

And  we  say  that  this  unchurching  of 
a  nation  is  what  has  actually  occurred, 
and  what  therefore  may  occur  again,  if 
mercies  be  abused,  and  privileges  ne- 
glected. We  appeal  to  the  instance  of 
the  Jews.  The  Jews  constituted  the 
church  of  God,  whilst  all  other  tribes 
of  the  human  population  were  stran- 
gers and  aliens.  And  never  were  a  peo- 
ple more  beloved  ;  never  had  a  nation 


greater  evidences  of  divine  favor  on 
which  to  rest  a  persuasion  that  they 
should  not  be  cast  off  and  deprived  of 
their  advantages.  Yet  how  completely 
has  the  candlestick  been  removed  from 
Judea.  The  land  of  Abraham,  and  of 
Isaac,  and  of  Jacob ;  the  land  Avhich 
held  the  ark  with  its  mysterious  and 
sacramental  treasures  ;  the  land  where 
priests  made  atonement,  and  prophets 
delivered  their  lofty  anticipations;  the 
land  which  Jesus  trode,  where  Jesus 
preached,  and  where  Jesus  died  ;  has 
been  tenanted  for  centuries  by  the  un- 
believer, profaned  by  the  followers, 
and  desecrated  by  the  altars,  of  the 
Arabian  impostor. 

We  appeal  again  to  the  early  church- 
es. Where  are  those  christian  socie- 
ties to  which  St.  Paul  and  St.  John  in- 
scribed their  epistles  1  Where  is  the 
Corinthian  church,  so  affectionately 
addressed,  though  so  boldly  reproved, 
by  the  great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles'? 
Where  is  the  Philippian  church,  where 
the  Colossian,  where  the  Thessaloni- 
an,  the  letters  to  which  prove  how 
cordially  Christianity  had  been  receiv- 
ed, and  how  vigorously  it  flourished! 
Where  are  the  Seven  Churches  of  Asia, 
respecting  which  we  are  assured  that 
they  were  once  strenuous  in  piety,  and 
gave  promise  of  permanence  in  chris- 
tian profession  and  privilege  ?  Alas, 
how  true  is  it  that  the  candlesticks 
have  been  removed.  Countries  in  which 
the  Gospel  was  first  planted,  cities 
where  it  took  earliest  root,  from  these 
have  all  traces  of  Christianity  long  ago 
disappeared,  and  in  these  has  the  cross 
been  supplanted  by  the  crescent.  The 
traveller  through  lands  where  apostles 
won  their  noblest  victories,  where  mar- 
tyrs witnessed  a  good  confession,  and 
thousands  sprang  eagerly  forwards  to 
be  "  baptized  for  the  dead,"  and  to  fill 
up  evei'y  breach  which  persecution 
made  in  the  christian  ranks,  can  scarce 
find  a  monument  to  assure  him  that  he 
stands  where  once  congregated  the  fol- 
lowers of  Jesus.  Every  where  he  is 
surrounded  by  superstitions  little  bet- 
ter than  those  of  heathenism,  so  that 
the  unchurchinof  of  these  lands  has 
been  the  giving  them  up  to  an  Egyp- 
tian darkness.  And  what  are  we  to  say 
of  such  facts,  except  that  they  prove — 
prove  with  a  clearness  and  awfulness  of 
demonstration,  which  leave  ignorance 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    GOSPEL    FOLLOWED    BY    ITS    REJIOVAL. 


1(37 


inexcusable,  and  indifference  self-con- 
demned— that  the  blessings  of  Chris- 
tianity are  deposited  with  a  nation  to 
be  valued  and  improved,  and  that  to 
despise  or  misuse  them  is  to  provoke 
their  withdrawment  1  If  we  could  trace 
the  histories  of  the  several  churches  to 
which  we  have  referred,  wc  should  find 
that  they  all  "left  their  first  love," 
grew  lukewarm  in  religion,  or  were 
daunted  by  danger  into  apostacy.  There 
was  no  lack  of  warning,  none  of  exhor- 
tation ;  for  it  is  never  suddenly,  never 
without  a  protracted  struggle,  that  God 
proceeds  to  extremes,  whether  with  a 
church  or  an  individual.  But  warning 
and  exhortation  were  in  vain.  False 
teachers  grew  into  favor ;  false  doc- 
trines superseded  the  true  ;  with  erro- 
neous tenets  came  their  general  ac- 
companiment, dissolute  practice  ;  till 
at  length,  if  the  candlestick  remained, 
the  light  was  extinct ;  and  then  God 
gave  the  sentence,  that  the  candlestick 
should  be  removed  out  of  his  place. 

And  never  let  it  be  thought  that  such 
sentence  is  of  no  very  terrible  and  de- 
solating character.  Come  foreign  in- 
vasion, come  domestic  insubordination, 
come  famine,  come  pestilence.  Come 
any  evil  rather  than  the  unchurching 
which  is  threatened  in  our  text.  It  is 
the  sorest  thing  which  God  can  do 
against  a  land.  He  himself  represents 
it  as  such,  when  sending  messages  of 
wo  by  the  mouth  of  his  servant  Amos. 
"  Behold  the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord 
God,  that  I  will  send  a  famine  in  the 
land,  not  a  famine  of  bread,  nor  a  thirst 
for  water,  but  of  hearing  the  words  of 
the  Lord."  The  blasting  the  fruits  of 
the  earth,  so  that  the  valleys  should 
not  yield  their  accustomed  abundance 
— this  would  be  a  fearful  thing,  but 
there  was  to  be  something  more  fear- 
ful than  this.  The  drying  up  the  foun- 
tains, and  the  cutting  off  the  streams — 
this  would  be  a  grievous  dispensation, 
but  there  was  to  be  something  more 
grievous  than  this.  The  suspension  of 
all  messages  from  heaven,  the  cessa- 
tion of  that  intercourse  which  had  sub- 
sisted between  the  people  and  God,  the 
removal  of  the  light  of  revelation — this 
was  the  threatened  evil,  which  would 
make  comparatively  inconsiderable  the 
dearth  of  the  bread,  and  the  want  of 
the  water.  Every  other  calamity  may 
be  sent  in  mercy,  and  have  for  its  de- 


sign the  correction,  and  not  the  de- 
struction, of  its  subjects.  But  this  ca- 
lamity has  none  of  the  character  of  a 
fatherly  chastisement.  It  shows  that 
God  has  done  with  a  people  ;  that  he 
will  no  longer  strive  with  them  ;  but 
that  henceforwards  he  gives  them  up 
to  their  own  wretched  devices. 

And,  therefore,  with  the  removal  of 
the  Gospel  must  be  the  departure  of 
whatever  is  most  precious  in  the  pos- 
sessions of  a  people.  It  is  not  merely 
that  Christianity  is  taken  away — though 
who  shall  measure,  Avho  imagine,  the 
loss,  if  this  were  indeed  all  ■? — but  it  is 
that  God  must  frown  on  a  land  from 
which  he  hath  been  provoked  to  with- 
draw his  Gospel ;  and  that,  if  the  frown 
of  the  Almighty  rest  on  a  country,  the 
sun  of  that  country's  greatness  goes 
rapidly  down,  and  the  dreariness  of  a 
moral  midnight  fast  gathers  above  it, 
and  around  it.  Has  it  not  been  thus 
with  countries,  and  with  cities,  to  which 
we  have  already  referred,  and  from 
which,  on  account  of  their  iniquities 
and  impieties,  the  candlestick  has  been 
removed  1  The  seven  Churches  of  Asia, 
where  are  the  cities  whence  thej'^  drew 
their  names  ;  cities  that  teemed  with 
inhabitants,  that  were  renowned  for 
arts,  and  which  served  as  centres  of 
civilization  to  far-spreading  districts? 
Did  the  unchurching  these  cities  leave 
them  their  majesty  and  prosperity  ;  did 
the  removal  of  the  candlestick  leave 
undimmed  their  political  lustre  1  Ask 
the  traveller  who  gropes  painfully  his 
way  over  prostrate  columns,  and  be- 
neath crumbling  arches,  having  no  in- 
dex but  ruins  to  tell  him  that  a  king- 
dom's dust  is  under  his  feet ;  and  en- 
deavoring to  assure  himself,  from  the 
magnitude  of  the  desolation,  that  he 
has  found  the  site  of  a  once  splendid 
metropolis!  The  cities,  with  scarce  an 
exception,  wasted  from  the  day  when 
the  candlestick  was  removed,  and  grew 
into  monuments — monuments  whose 
marble  is  decay,  and  whose  inscription 
devastation — telling  out  to  all  succeed- 
ing ages,  that  the  readiest  mode  in 
which  a  nation  can  destroy  itself,  is  to 
despise  the  Gospel  with  which  it  has 
been  intrusted,  and  that  the  most  fear- 
ful vial  which  God  can  empty  on  a 
land,  is  that  which  extinguishes  the 
blessed  shinings  of  Christianity. 

Oh,  it  may  be  the  thought  of  those 


168 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    GOSPEL    FOLLOWED    BY    ITS    REBIOVAL. 


who  care  little  for  the  Gospel,  and  who 
have  never  opened  their  hearts  to  its 
gracious  communications,  that  it  would 
be  no   overwhelming  calamity,  if  God 
fulfilled   his   threat,  and   removed  the 
candlestick  out  of  his  place.    They  may 
think  that  the  springs  of  national  pros- 
perity, and  national  happiness,  Avould 
be  left  untouched ;    and  that   the  un- 
churched people  might  still  have  their 
fleets  on  every   sea,  still   gather  into 
their  lap  the  riches  of  the  earth,  and  sit 
undisturbed  a  sovereign  among  the  na- 
tions.   I  know  not  how  far  such  might 
be  actually  the  case.    I  know  not  how 
far  the  conquests  or  the  commerce   of 
a  country  might  remain  unaffected  by 
the  loss  of  its  Christianity.    But  this  I 
know,   that   God's   blessing   could  no 
longer  rest  on  its  victories,  or  accom- 
pany its  trade  5  and  that,  therefore,  if 
its  armies  triumphed,  the  triumph  would 
be    virtually    defeat ;  and   if   its   ships 
were  richly  freighted,  it  would  be  with 
fruits,  which,  like  the  fabled  ones  from 
the  Dead  Sea's  shore,  turn  to  ashes  in 
the  mouth.     No,  we  again  say,  come 
any  thing  rather  than  this.     Come  bar- 
renness  into  our  soil;    come   discord 
into  our  councils;  come  treason  into 
our  camps ;  come  wreck  into  our  na- 
vies— but  let  us  not  be  unchurched  as 
a  nation.    We  may  be  beloved  of  God, 
and  He  may  have  purposes  of  mercy 
towards  us,  whilst  he  takes  from  us  our 
temporal  advantages,  but  still  leaves  us 
our  spiritual.  He  may  be  only  disciplin- 
ing us  as  a  parent ;  and  the  discipline 
proves,  not  merely  that  there  is  need, 
but  that  there  is  room  for  repentance. 
But  if  we   were   once  deprived  of  the 
Gospel ;  if  the  Bible  ceased  to  circulate 
amongst  our  people ;  if  there  were  no 
longer  the  preaching  of  Christ  in  our 
churches ;  if  we  were   left  to  set  up 
reason   instead   of  revelation,    to  bow 
the  knee  to  the  God  of  our  own  ima- 
ginations, and  to  burn  unhallowed  in- 
cense before  the  idols  which  the  mad- 
ness of  speculation  would  erect — then 
farewell,  a  long  farewell,  to  all  that  has 
given  dignity  to  our  state,  and  happi- 
ness  to  our  homes  ;  the  true  founda- 
tions of  true  greatness  would  be  all  un- 
dermined, the  bulwarks  of  real  liberty 
shaken,  the  springs  of  peace  poisoned, 
the   sources   of  prosperity    dried   up ; 
and'a  coming  generation  Avould    have 
to  add  our  name  to  those  of  countries 


whose  national  decline  has  kept  pace 
with  their  religious,  and  to  point  to 
our  fate  as  exhibiting  the  awful  com- 
prehensiveness of  the  threat,  "I  will 
come  unto  thee  quickly,  and  will  re- 
move thy  candlestick  out  of  his  place, 
except  thou  repent." 

But  we  rejoice  in  pronouncing  this 
a  doom,  respecting  which   we  do  not 
augur  a  likelihood  that  it  will  fall  on 
this  kingdom.     There  may  have  been 
periods   in   the    history   of   this    land, 
when  the   upholders  of  true   religion 
had  cause  for  gloomy  forebodings,  and 
for  fears  that  God  would  unchurch  our 
nation.    And  some  indeed  may  be  dis- 
posed to  regard  the  present  as  a  period 
when  such  forebodins^s  and  fears  micht 
be  justly  entertained.   They  may  think 
that  so  great  is  the  array  of  hostility 
against   the  national  church,  that  the 
most  sanguine  can  scarce  venture  to 
hope  that  the  candlestick  will  not  be 
cast  down.   We  cannot  subscribe  to  this 
opinion.  We  are  not  indeed  blind  to  the 
amount  of  opposition   to   the  national 
church  ;  neither  have  we  the  least  doubt 
that    the    destruction    of   this    church 
would  give  a  fatal  blow  to  the  national 
Christianity.    We  dare  not  indeed  say 
that  God  might  not  preserve  amongst 
us  a  pure  Christianity,  if  the  national 
church  were  overthrown.    But  we   are 
bold   to   affirm,    that   hitherto  has  the 
church  been  the  grand  engine  in  effect- 
ing  such   preservation ;    and    that    we 
should  have  no  right  to  expect,  if  we 
dislocated     this    engine,    that    results 
would    not    follow    disastrous  to  reli- 
gion.    I  could  not  contend  for  the  Es- 
tablished Church,  merely  because  ven- 
erable  by   its   antiquity,   because   hal- 
lowed  by   the   solemn    processions   of 
noble  thought  which  have  issued  from 
its  recesses,   or    because    the   prayers 
and    praises  which   many   generations 
have    breathed    through    its    services, 
seem    mysteriously  to   haunt   its  tem- 
ples, that  they  may  be  echoed  by  the 
tonofues  of  the  living.  But  as  the  q-reat 
safeguard  and  propagator  of  unadulter- 
ated Christianity  ;  the  defender,  by  her 
articles,  of  what  is  sound  in  doctrine, 
and,  by  her  constitution,  of  what  is  apos- 
tolic in  government ;   the  represser,  by 
the  simple  majesty  of  her  ritual,  of  all 
extravagance  ;  the  encourager,  by  its 
fervor,  of  an  ardent  piety — I  can  con- 
tend  for  the  continuance  amongst  us 


NEGLECT    OF    THE    GOSPEL    FOLLOWED    BY    ITS    REMOVAL. 


169 


of  the  Establishment,  as  I  would  for 
the  continuance  of  the  Gospel ;  I  can 
deprecate  its  removal  as  the  removal 
of  our  candlestick.  It  is  not  then  be- 
cause Ave  are  blind  to  the  opposition  to 
the  national  church,  or  fail  to  identify 
this  church  with  the  national  Christi- 
anity, that  we  share  not  the  fears  of 
those  who  would  now  prophesy  evil. 
But  we  feel  that  danger  is  only  bring- 
ing out  the  strength  of  the  church,  and 
that  her  efficiency  has  increased  as 
her  existence  has  been  menaced.  The 
threatening  of  our  text  belongs  to  the 
lukewarm  and  the  indolent ;  its  very 
language  proves  that  it  ceases  to  be 
applicable,  if  it  have  fanned  the  em- 
bers, and  strung  the  energies.  We 
believe  of  an  apostolic  church,  that  it 
can  die  only  by  suicide ;  and  where 
are  our  fears  of  suicide,  when  enmity 
has  but  produced  greater  zeal  in  win- 
ning souls  to  Christ,  and  hatred  been 
met  bj'  increased  efforts  to  disseminate 
the  religion  of  love  ] 

We  might  not  have  ventured  to  in- 
troduce these  observations,  in  conclud- 
ing our  discourses  before  this  assem- 
bly, had  we  not  felt  that  the  church 
stands  or  falls  with  the  universities  of 
the  land,  and  that  the  present  condition 
of  this  university  more  than  warrants 
our  belief  that  the  candlestick  is  not 
about  to  be  removed.  It  is  a  gratifica- 
tion, not  to  be  expressed,  to  find,  after 
a  few  years'  absence,  what  a  growing 
attention  there  has  been  to  those  no- 
blest purposes  for  which  colleges  were 
founded  ;  and  how  the  younger  part, 
more  especially,  of  our  body,  whence 
are  to  be  drafted  the  ministers  of  our 
parishes,  and  the  most  influential  of 
our  laity,  have  advanced  in  respect  for 
religion,  and  attention  to  its  duties. 
One  who  has  been  engaged  in  other 
scenes  may  perhaps  better  judge  the 
advance  than  those  under  whose  eye  it 
has  proceeded;  and  if  testimony  may 
derive  worth  from  its  sincerity,  when 


it  cannot  from  the  station  of  the  party 
who  gives  it,  there  will  be  borne  strong 
witness  by  him  who  addresses  you, 
that  not  only  is  the  fire  of  genius  here 
cherished,  and  the  lamp  of  philosophy 
trimmed ;  but  that  here  the  candle, 
which  God  hath  lighted  for  a  world 
sitting  in  darkness,  burns  brightly,  and 
that,  therefore,  though  enemies  may 
be  fierce,  the  candlestick  is  firm. 

But  suffer  me,  my  younger  brethren, 
to  entreat  you  that  you  would  think 
more  and  more  of  your  solemn  respon- 
sibility. I  cannot  compute  the  amount 
of  influence  you  may  wield  over  the 
destinies  of  the  church  and  the  coun- 
try. In  a  few  years  you  will  be  scat- 
tered over  the  land,  occupying  differ- 
ent stations,  and  filling  different  parts 
in  society.  And  it  is  because  we  hope 
you  will  go  hence  with  religion  in  the 
heart,  that  we  venture  to  predict  good, 
and  not  evil.  We  entreat  you  to  take 
heed  that  you  disappoint  not  the  hope, 
and  thus  defeat  the  prediction.  We 
could  almost  dare  to  say  that  you  have 
the  majesty,  and  the  Christianity,  of  the 
empire  in  your  keeping  5  and  we  be- 
seech you,  therefore,  to  "  flee  youthful 
lusts,"  as  you  would  the  plots  of  trea- 
son, and  to  follow  the  high  biddings  of 
godliness,  as  you  would  the  trumpet- 
call  of  patriotism.  Your  vices,  they 
must  shake  the  candlestick,  which  God 
in  his  mercy  hath  planted  in  this  land, 
and  with  whose  stability  he  has  asso- 
ciated the  greatness  of  the  state,  and 
the  happiness  of  its  families.  But  your 
quiet  and  earnest  piety;  your  submis- 
sion to  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel; 
your  faithful  discharge  of  appointed 
duties;  these  will  help  to  give  fixed- 
ness to  the  candlestick — and  there  may 
come  the  earthquake  of  political  con- 
vulsion, or  the  onset  of  infidel  assault, 
but  Christianity  shall  not  be  overthrown; 
and  we  shall  therefore  still  know  that 
"the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us,  that  the 
God  of  Jacob  is  our  refuge." 
22 


SPITAL    SERMON. 


This  Sermon  was  preached  according  to  annual  custom,  in  commemoration  of  five  several  Hos. 
pitals  in  London.  Their  several  Annual  Reports  were  read  in  the  course  of  the  Sermon,  as  indicated 
by  a  line  drawn  across  the  page  towards  the  end. 


SERMON. 


*'  For  ye  have  the  poor  always  with  you,  but  me  ye  have  not  always." — Matthew,  26  :  11. 


With  a  heart  full  of  the  remembrance 
of  the  mercy  which  had  been  shown  to 
her  family,  did  Mary,  the  sister  of  La- 
zarus, approach  and  pour  ointment  over 
the  head  of  the  Redeemer.  Not  yet 
sufficiently  taught  that  Christ  was  to 
be  honored  by  the  consecration  of  the 
best  of  our  substance,  the  disciples 
murmured  at  what  they  thought  waste, 
and  called  forth  from  the  Savior  a  vin- 
dication of  the  act.  He  pronounced 
it  possessed  of  a  kind  of  prophetical 
power ;  and  glancing  onwards  to  that 
ignominious  death,  whereby  the  world's 
redemption  was  about  to  be  achieved, 
declared  that  it  had  been  done  for  his 
burial,  and  thus  represented  it  as  the 
produce  of  that  affection  which  pays 
eagerly  'the  last  honors  to  one  most 
cherished  and  revered. 

Whether  or  no  there  had  been  given 
intimation  to  Mary  of  the  near  ap- 
proach of  the  final  scenes  of  Christ's 
ministration,  does  not  appear  from  the 
scriptural  record.  It  is  evident,  how- 
ever, that  Christ  grounds  his  defence 
of  her  conduct  mainly  on  the  fact,  that 
his  crucifixion  was  at  hand,  making  the 
proximity  of  that  stupendous  event  a 
sufficient  reason  for  the  course  which 
she  had  followed.  Thus,  in  conformity 
Avith  the  manner  of  teaching  which  he 
always  pursued,  that  of  extracting  from 
passing   occurrences   the   material   of 


some  spiritual  admonition,  he  takes 
occasion,  from  the  pouring  out  of  the 
ointment,  to  deliver  a  truth  which  hath 
about  it  all  the  unction  of  divinity.  We 
allow  that,  on  its  original  delivery,  our 
text  had  a  decided  reference  to  exist- 
ent circumstances  ;  but  we  still  con- 
tend that,  in  the  fulness  of  its  mean- 
ing, it  is  as  forcible  to  ourselves  as  it 
was  to  Mary  and  the  apostles.  There 
was,  indeed,  a  contrast  implied  in  the 
first  instance,  which,  we  thank  God, 
can  no  longer  be  urged,  a  contrast  be- 
tween the  presence  of  Christ  as  vouch- 
safed to  his  church,  and  that  same  pre- 
sence for  a  while  withdrawn.  The  hea- 
vens have  received  the  Savior  until  the 
times  of  the  restitution  of  all  things; 
but  though  with  our  bodily  eyes  we 
behold  him  not,  we  know  that  he  is 
never  absent  from  the  assemblies  of  his 
people,  but  that  ''  where  two  or  three 
are  met  together  in  his  name,  there  is 
he  in  the  midst  of  them." 

Until  the  Kedeemer  had  won  to  him- 
self, by  his  agony  and  his  passion,  the 
mighty  title  of  "  Head  over  all  things 
to  the  Church," — a  title  which  belongs 
to  him  not  so  much  by  the  rights  of  his 
essential  deity,  as  through  virtue  of  his 
having  entered  into  humanity,  and  pre- 
sented it,  in  obedience  and  suffering,  to 
the  Creator — he  could  not  put  forth 
those  gracious  communications  which 


SPITAL   SERMON. 


171 


.  supply  the  place  of  a  visible  presence. 
J  Hence  it  must  have  come  necessarily 
t  to  pass,  that  any  allusion  to  his  remo- 
l  val  from  earth  would  bring  a  cloud  over 
'  the  minds  of  his  disciples,  since  it  was 
only  from  the  headship  to  which  I  have 
adverted  that  they  could  derive  those 
influences  which  teach  the  spiritual  na- 
ture of  Christ's  kingdom.  To  the  dis- 
ciples, therefore,  we  again  say,  there 
was  a  contrast  in  the  text  which  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  exist  to  ourselves. 
We  are  indeed  looking  forwards,  un- 
less we  live  most  basely  below  our 
privileges,  to  a  season  when,  after  a 
manner  infinitely  more  glorious  than 
1  any  which  past  ages  have  seen,  the 
I  presence  of  the  Redeemer  shall  be 
granted  to  his  people.  We  know  that 
the  Bible  hath  painted,  with  all  the 
power  of  splendid  diction,  a  period  at 
which  the  bridegroom  shall  return,  and 
gathering  triumphantly  his  elect  from 
the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  unite 
them  to  himself  in  a  visible  and  inde- 
structible union.  But  whilst  we  attempt 
no  denial  that,  ever  since  the  ascension 
of  Christ,  the  church  hath  been  placed 
in  what  may  fitly  be  called  a  widowed 
estate,  we  may  still  justly  maintain, 
that  the  argument,  from  contrast  which 
our  text  exhibits,  was  of  local  and  tem- 
porary power.  We  have  Christ  with 
us  in  such  real  and  glorious  manifesta- 
tions, as  no  apostle  could  have  con- 
ceived of  previously  to  the  effusions  of 
the  Spirit.  And  in  place  of  that  carnal 
calculation  which  would  detach  the 
head  from  the  members,  and  decide 
that  no  ministrations  can  be  rendered 
to  Christ,  unless  he  move  amongst  us 
in  the  garniture  of  flesh,  we  have  learn- 
ed from  the  fuller  disclosures  of  the 
Gospel,  that  the  Savior  is  succored  in 
the  persons  of  his  followers,  so  that 
having  the  poor  always  with  us,  we  al- 
ways have  Christ  on  whom  to  shed  the 
anointings  of  our  love.  If  there  were 
not,  then,  some  general  lessons  couch- 
ed under  the  limited  assertion  of  the 
text,  there  would  be  but  little  in  these 
words  of  Christ  to  interest  the  man  of 
later  generations.  We  could  merely 
survey  them  as  possessed  originally  of 
a  plaiative  and  touching  beauty,  so  that 
they  must  have  fallen  on  the  disciples' 
ears  with  all  that  melancholy  softness 
which  arrays  the  dying  words  of  those 
we  best  love.    We  could  only  regard 


them  as  exquisitely  calculated  to  thrill 
through  the  hearts  of  the  hearers,  fix- 
ing, as  they  must  have  done,  their 
thoughts  on  a  separation  which  seem- 
ed to  involve  the  abandonment  of  their 
dearest  expectations,  and  to  throw  to 
the  ground  those  hopes  of  magnificent 
empire  which  the  miracles  of  Christ 
Jesus  had  aroused  within  them. 

But  the  words  are  not  thus  to  be  con- 
fined in  their  application,  and  if  we 
sweep  out  of  view  the  incidents  which 
give  rise  to  their  delivery,  we  may  ex- 
tract from  them  lessons  well  suited  to 
sundry  occasions,  and  to  none  more 
emphatically  than  to  the  present. 

We  are  assembled  to  commemorate 
the  foundation  of  certain  noble  institu- 
tions, which  stand  amongst  the  chief 
of  those  which  shed  honor  on  the  land 
of  our  birth.  And  I  see  not  how  such 
commemoration  can  be  better  effected, 
or  how  that  benevolence,  upon  which 
these  illustrious  institutions  depend, 
can  be  more  encouraged  to  go  on  with 
its  labors,  than  by  our  searching  into 
the  bearings'of  the  fact  that  "  the  poor 
we  have  always  with  us,"  remembering 
at  the  same  time,  that  in  ministering 
to  them  for  the  love  of  Christ,  we  as 
literally  minister  to  the  Redeemer  him- 
self, as  if  he  also  were  always  visibly 
with  us. 

The  subject  matter  of  discourse  is 
thus  opened  before  us.  I  take  the  as- 
sertion ''  ye  have  the  poor  always  with 
you,"  as  one  which,  whilst  it  propheti- 
cally asserts  the  unvarying  continuance 
of  poverty  amongst  men,  leads  us  at- 
tentively to  ponder  on  the  ends  which 
that  continuance  subserves  ;  and  then 
I  turn  to  the  fact  that  the  head  is  al- 
ways present  amongst  us  in  the  mem- 
bers, and  use  it  as  a  motive  to  the  sup- 
port of  establishments  which  seek  to 
alleviate  distress. 

Such  are  our  two  topics  of  discourse; 
the  ends  which  the  continuance  of  pov- 
erty has  subserved, — the  motives  to  be- 
nevolence which  the  presence  of  Christ 
supplies. 

Now  it  is  much  to  receive  an  assu- 
rance from  the  Redeemer  himself  that 
the  poor  we  are  always  to  have  Avith 
us  ;  for  we  may  hence  justly  conclude 
that  poverty  is  not,  what  it  hath  been 
termed,  an  unnatural  estate,  but  rather 
one  appointed  to  exist  by  the  will  of  the 
Almighty.  .It  hath  ever  been  a  favorite 


172 


SPITAL    SERMON. 


subject  of  popular  harangue,  that  there 
ought  to  come  an  equalization  of  the 
ranks  of  society,  and  that  the  diversity 
of  condition  which  characterizes  our 
species  is  a  direct  violation  of  what  are 
proudly  termed  the  rights  of  man.  We 
allow  it  to  be  most  easy  to  work  up  a 
stirring  declamation,  carrying  along 
■with  it  the  plaudits  of  the  multitude, 
whensoever  the  doctrine  is  propound- 
ed, that  one  man  possesses  the  same 
natural  claims  as  another  to  the  riches 
which  Providence  hath  scattered  over 
the  earth.  The  doctrine  is  a  specious 
doctrine,  but  we  hold  it  to  be  undenia- 
bly an  unscriptural  doctrine.  We  hold 
it  to  be  clear  to  every  fair  student  of 
the  word  of  inspiration,  that  God  hath 
irrevocably  determined  that  the  fabric 
of  human  society  shall  consist  of  suc- 
cessive stages  or  platforms  ;  and  that 
it  falls  never  within  the  scope  of  his 
dispensations,  that  earthly  allotments 
should  be  in  any  sense  uniform.  We  are 
to  have  the  poor  always  with  us,  and 
that  too  because  the  Creator  hath  so 
willed  it,  rather  than  because  the  crea- 
ture hath  introduced  anomalies  into  the 
system.  And  therefore  do  we  likewise 
hold,  that  every  attempt  at  equalization 
is  tantamount  to  direct  rebellion  against 
the  appointments  of  heaven — it  is  nei- 
ther more  nor  less  than  an  effort  to  set 
aside  the  declared  purposes  of  Jeho- 
vah ;  and  never  do  we  believe  it  can  be 
aimed  at  in  any  land,  unless  infidelity 
go  first,  that  stanch  standard-bearer  of 
anarchy,  and  leap  upon  our  altars  in  or- 
der that  it  may  batter  at  our  thrones. 
The  principle  which  seems  now  intro- 
ducing itself  into  the  politics  of  Europe, 
and  which  is  idolized  as  the  Nebuchad- 
nezzar image  of  the  day — the  principle 
that  all  power  should  emanate  from  the 
people — may  be  hailed  and  cheered  by 
the  great  body  of  mankind  ;  but  it  is 
an  unsound  principle,  for  it  is  palpably 
an  unscriptural  principle, — the  scriptu- 
ral doctrine  being  that  Christ  is  the 
Head  of  all  rule  and  all  authority,  and 
that  from  the  Head  power  is  conveyed 
to  his  vicegerents  upon  earth :  and  1 
leave  you  to  judge  (and  I  speak  thus 
out  of  reverence  to  the  Bible,  and  not 
out  of  deference  to  the  magistracy  be- 
fore whom  I  stand)  what  accordance 
there  can  be  between  this  doctrine  and 
that  which  has  been  set  up  as  the  Da- 
gon  of  the  age,  seeing  that  the  one 


makes  power  descend  from  above, 
whilst  the  other  represents  it  as  spring- 
ing from  beneath. 

We  thus  argue,  that  seeing  it  to  be 
the  appointment  of  heaven  that  we 
should  "'  have  the  poor  always  with  us," 
the  duty  of  submission  may  be  learnt 
from  the  continuance  of  poverty,  and 
that  God  hath  so  mysteriously  inter- 
woven the  motives  to  obedience  with 
the  causes  of  dissatisfaction,  that  a 
man  must  first  brave  the  wrath  by 
scorning  the  will  of  his  Maker,  before 
he  can  adventure  on  the  tearing  down 
the  institutions  of  society. 

But  there  are  other,  and  those  more 
obvious  ends,  which  this  continuance  of 
poverty  hath  subserved.  Let  me  pre- 
mise, that  although  there  is  a  broad 
line  of  demarcation,  separating  the 
higher  from  the  lower  classes  of  so- 
ciety, the  points  of  similarity  are  vast- 
ly more  numerous  than  the  points  of 
distinction.  We  are  told  in  the  Book 
of  Proverbs,  that  ^' the  rich  and  poor 
meet  together,  the  Lord  is  the  Maker 
of  them  all."  Where  is  it,  I  pray  you, 
that  they  thus  meet "?  Descended  from 
one  common  ancestor,  the  rich  and 
poor  meet  before  God  on  the  wide  leve? 
of  total  apostacy.  This  may  be  a  hard 
doctrine,  but  nevertheless  1  would  not 
that  the  ear  should  turn  away  from  its 
truth.  Intellect  doth  sever  between 
man  and  man,  and  so  doth  learning, 
and  outward  honor,  and  earthly  fortune, 
and  there  may  appear  no  intimate  link 
of  association  connecting  the  posses- 
sors of  lofty  genius  with  the  mass  of 
dull  and  common-place  spirits,  or  bind- 
ing together  the  great  and  the  small, 
the  caressed  and  the  despised,  the  ap- 
plauded and  the  scorned  ;  but  never 
yet  have  the  dreams  of  revolutionary 
enthusiasm  assigned  so  perfect  a  level 
to  the  face  of  human  society,  as  that 
upon  which  its  several  members  do  ac- 
tually meet,  even  the  level  of  original 
sin, — the  level  of  a  total  incapacity  to 
ward  off  condemnation.  Aliens  from 
God,  and  outcasts  from  the  light  of 
his  favor,  there  is  no  distinction  be- 
tween us  as  to  the  moral  position  which 
we  naturally  occupy  5  but  the  rich  man 
and  the  poor  man  share  alike,  the  one 
not  more  and  the  other  not  less,  in  the 
ruin  which  hath  rolled  as  a  deluge  over 
our  earth. 

Yea,  and  if  they  stand  by  nature  on 


SPITAL    SEKMON. 


173 


the  same  level  of  ruin,  so  are  they 
placed  by  redemption  on  the  same  lev- 
el of  restoration.  Men  have  garbled 
and  mutilated  the  blessed  Gospel  of  Je- 
sus Christ,  by  inventing  their  systems 
of  exclusion,  and  have  offended  as  much 
against  philosophy  as  against  theology, 
by  limiting  the  effects  of  the  atonement 
to  certain  individuals.  The  Redeemer 
had  indeed  human  nature,  but  he  had 
no  human  personality,  and  therefore 
he  redeemed  the  nature  in  itself,  and 
not  this  or  that  person.  Just  therefore 
as  the  whole  race  had  fallen  in  the  first 
Adam,  so  was  the  whole  race  redeemed 
or  purchased  by  the  second  ;  and  the 
sun  in  its  circuits  about  this  sin-struck 
globe  shines  not  upon  the  lonely  being, 
unto  whom  it  may  not  be  said  with  all 
the  force  of  a  heavenly  announcement, 
for  thy  transgressions  a  Mediator  hath 
died! 

We  go  back  then  to  the  matter  in 
hand,  and  we  contend  that  the  points 
of  similarity  between  the  rich  and  the 
poor  are  vastly  more  numerous  than  the 
points  of  distinction.  The  Bible  sup- 
poses them  placed  in  precisely  the 
same  moral  attitude;  so  that  whether  a 
preacher  enter  into  a  palace  or  a  cot- 
tage, he  is  nothing  better  than  a  base 
and  time-serving  parasite  if  he  shape  his 
message  into  different  forms — the  Gos- 
pel assuming  not  variety  of  tone,  just 
according  as  the  audience  may  be  the 
wealthy  and  the  pampered,  or  the  in- 
digent and  the  oppressed  ;  but  speak- 
ing unto  all  as  beings  born  in  sin  and 
shapen  in  iniquity,  and  announcing  un- 
to all  the  same  free  and  glorious  tid- 
ings, that  "  God  hath  made  Christ  to 
be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin,  that  we 
might  be  made  the  righteousness  of 
God,  in  him." 

But  now  I  would  have  you  observe 
from  these  premises,  how  the  continu- 
ance of  poverty  has  subserved  the  end 
of  displaying  the  comparative  worth- 
lessness  of  earthly  possessions.  Men 
are  placed  on  widely  different  levels 
when  viewed  as  members  of  human 
society  ;  but  they  are  placed  on  iden- 
tically the  same  level  when  regarded 
as  heirs  of  immortality, — and  what  is 
the  necessary^  inference,  save  that  when 
eternity  is  brought  into  the  account, 
the  relative  advantages  of  life  become 
absolutely  evanescent  1  This  simple 
fact,  that  "  the  poor  we  have  always 


with  us,"  furnishes  perpetually  a  prac- 
tical exhibition,  such  as  might  other- 
wise have  in  vain  been  sought,  of  the 
total  insignificance  of  things  the  most 
boasted,  and  the  most  prized,  and  the 
most  coveted.  For  just  suppose  a  con- 
trary arrangement.  Suppose  that  riches 
had  been  equally  distributed,  so  that  it 
would  have  come  to  pass  that  the  poor 
we  had  not  always  with  us, — why,  then, 
it  is  clear  that  the  Gospel  must  have 
been  stripped  of  that  surprising  radi- 
ance which  it  derives  from  overthrow- 
ing all  mortal  differences,  and  gather- 
ing into  one  arena  of  nakedness  and 
destitution  the  monarch  and  the  cap- 
tive, the  potentate  and  the  beggar.  As 
the  case  now  stands,  we  learn  power- 
fully the  worthlessness  of  wealth  or 
honor  in  the  sight  of  the  Creator,  by 
observing  that  he  who  has  most  of 
these  must  seek  the  salvation  of  his 
soul  by  precisely  the  same  method  as 
he  who  has  least — for  certainly  it  must 
follow  from  this,  that  in  the  eye  of  the 
Creator  wealth  and  honor  go  for  no- 
thing. But  then  it  is  the  continuance 
of  poverty  which  furnishes  this  proof, 
and  conclusive  as  it  is,  we  must  have 
searched  for  it  in  vain  had  it  not  been 
appointed  that  "  the  poor  we  should 
have  always  with  us."  If  there  were 
any  alteration  in  this  fact,  so  that  the 
ranks  of  society  became  merged  and 
equalized,  we  deny  not  that  it  would 
be  equally  true,  that  "riches  profit  no- 
thing in  the  day  of  wrath ;"  but  we 
should  not  have  possessed  the  like 
ocular  demonstration  of  the  truth;  we 
should  have  wanted  the  display  of  con- 
trast. When  all  must  be  stripped,  we 
should  scarcely  observe  that  any  were 
stripped  ;  and  it  is  the  very  circum- 
stance that  there  are  wide  temporal 
distinctions  between  man  and  man, 
which  forces  on  our  attention  the  stu- 
pendous truth,  that  we  stand  on  a  par 
in  the  sight  of  the  Creator,  yea,  on  the 
level  of  a  helplessness,  which  as  no 
mortal  destitution  increases,  so  neither 
can  any  mortal  advantage  diminish. 

I  would  pause  for  one  moment  to 
press  home  this  truth  upon  your  con- 
sciences. You  may  have  been  wont  to 
derive  moral  and  political  lessons  from 
the  continuance  of  poverty,  but  have 
you  ever  yet  derived  this  vast  spiritual 
lesson  1  Have  you  used  the  temporal 
destitution  of  the  great  body  of  your 


174. 


SPITAL    SERMON. 


fellow-creatures  as  an  overwhelming 
evidence  to  yourselv^es  of  the  divinity 
of  salvation]  We  tell  you  that  it  is  an 
evidence  so  decisive  and  incontroverti- 
ble, that  if  a  man  be  now  pufled  up  by 
secular  advantages,  and  if  he  fancy 
himself  capable  of  turning  those  ad- 
vantages into  a  machinery  for  saving 
the  soul,  he  may  be  said  to  have  closed 
his  eyes  to  the  fact,  that  ''  the  poor  we 
have  always  with  us" — always— so 
that  whatever  be  the  height  to  Avhich 
civilization  attains,  whatever  the  spread 
of  knowledge,  whatever  the  standard, 
of  morality,  poverty  shall  always  con- 
tinue as  a  display  of  the  riches  of 
grace,  and  as  a  standing  memorial  that 
"  not  by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by 
my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts," 
shall  the  work  of  salvation  be  accom- 
plished. 

But  I  hasten  to  trace  out  certain 
other  results  which  the  continuance  of 
poverty  has  produced.  There  needs 
only  a  cursory  glance  in  order  to  our 
discerning,  that  the  fact  of  the  poor 
being  always  amongst  us,  has  given 
free  scope  for  the  growth  and  exercise 
of  christian  graces.  I  might  take  the 
catalogue  of  excellences  which  Scrip- 
ture proposes  as  the  objects  of  our  as- 
pirations, and  show  you  how  each  is 
cradled,  so  to  speak,  in  the  unevenness 
and  diversity  of  human  estate.  If  I  turn, 
for  example,  to  faith,  it  will  be  conce- 
ded on  all  hands,  that  the  unequal  dis- 
tribution of  the  good  things  of  this  life 
is  calculated  to  occasion  perplexity  to 
the  pious,  and  that  there  is  a  difficulty 
of  no  slight  dimensions,  in  reconciling 
the  varieties  of  mortal  allotments  with 
the  rigid  equity  of  God's  moral  gov- 
ernment. We  can  master  the  difficulty 
by  no  other  process,  save  that  of  re- 
ferring to  the  season  when  all  the  con- 
cerns of  the  universe  shall  be  wound 
up,  and  when,  by  a  most  august  de- 
velopement,  the  Judge,  who  sits  on 
the  great  white  throne,  shall  unravel 
the  secrecies  of  every  dispensation. 
But  it  is  the  province  of  faith,  and  that 
too  of  faith  when  in  keenest  exercise, 
thus  to  meet  the  discrepancies  of  the 
present  by  a  bold  appeal  to  the  deci- 
sions of  the  future.  And  if  it  should 
come  to  pass  that  there  were  no  dis- 
crepancies, which  would  be  compara- 
tively effected  if  the  poor  ceased  from 
amongst  usj  then  who  perceives    not 


that  this  province  of  faith  would  be 
sensibly  circumscribed  (  The  problem 
with  which  it  is  now  most  arduous  to 
grapple,  and  by  the  grappling  with 
which  faith  is  upheld  in  its  vigor — the 
problem,  wherefore  does  a  merciful 
Creator  leave  in  wretched  destitution 
so  many  of  his  creatures — this  would 
be  necessarily  taken  out  of  our  investi- 
gation— we  should  be  girt  about  with 
the  appearance  of  equable  dealings  in 
this  life,  and  should  seldom  therefore 
be  thrown  for  explanations  on  the  mys- 
teries of  the  next.  And  I  know  not 
what  consequence  can  be  more  evident, 
than  that  a  huge  field  would  thus  be 
closed  against  the  exercises  of  faith,  a 
field  which  is  formed  in  its  length  and 
in  its  breadth  out  of  verification  of  our 
text,  that  "  the  poor  we  have  always 
with  us." 

But  yet  further.  If  there  were  to  be 
no  longer  any  poor,  then  it  is  evident 
that  each  one  amongst  us  would  be  iu 
possession  of  a  kind  of  moral  certain- 
ty that  he  should  never  become  poor. 
Poverty  would  be  removed  from  the 
number  of  possible  human  conditions, 
and  there  would  be  an  end  at  once  to 
those  incessant  and  tremendous  fluctu- 
ations which  oftentimes  dash  the  pros- 
perous on  the  rocks  and  the  quicksands. 
But  now  mark  how,  with  the  departure 
of  the  risk  of  adversity,  would  depart 
also  the  meekness  of  our  dependance 
on  the  Almighty.  We  might  instantly 
remove  one  petition  from  our  prayers, 
"give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  If 
we  were  secure  against  poverty,  which 
we  should  be  if  poverty  had  ceased 
from  the  earth,  there  would  be  some- 
thing of  mockery  in  soliciting  supplies, 
whose  continuance  was  matter  of  cer- 
tainty;  and  thus,  by  placing  man  out 
of  the  reach  of  destitution,  you  would 
go  far  to  annihilate  all  those  motives 
to  simple  reliance  Avhich  are  furnished 
by  the  vacillations  of  human  condition  ; 
you  would  destroy  that  liveliness  which 
is  now  the  result  of  momentary  exer- 
cise :  and  we  once  more  contend,  that 
for  the  delicacy  of  its  minute,  just  as 
well  as  for  the  magnificence  of  its  more 
extended,  operations,  faith  is  mainly  in- 
debted to  the  fact,  that  "  the  poor  we 
have  always  with  us." 

I  go  on  to  observe,  of  how  much 
beauty  we  should  strip  the  Gospel,  if 
we  stripped  the  world  of  povertj'.    It 


SriTAL    SERMOK. 


175 


is  one  of  the  prime  and  distinguishing 
features  of  the  character  of  Deity,  as 
revealed  to  us  in  Scripture,  that  the 
poor  man,  just  as  well  as  the  rich  man, 
is  the  object  of  his  watchfulness  :  that, 
with  an  attention  undistracted  by  the 


this  amazing  exhibition  1  The  specta- 
cle which  is  most  calculated  to  arrest 
us,  and  to  fill  the  vision  with  toucliing 
delineations  of  Deity,  is  that  of  earthly' 
destitution  gilded  by  the  sunshine  of 
celestial  consolation, — the  spectacle  of 


multiplicity  of  complex  concernments,  i  a  child  of  want  and  misfortune,  laden 
he  bows  himself  down  to  the  cry  of  the  !  with  all  those  ills  which  were  bcqueath- 
meanest  outcast  5  so  that  there  is  not  |  ed  to  man  by  a  rebellious  ancestry,  and 
a  smile  upon  a  poor  man's  cheek,  and  !  nevertheless  sustained  by  so  elastic  and 
there  is  not  a  tear  in  a  poor  man's  eye,  1  unearthly  a  vigor,  that  he  can  walk 
which  passes  any  more  unheeded  by  j  cheerily  through  the  midst  of  trouble, 
our  God,  than  if  the  individual  were  a    and  maintain  a  deep  and  rich  tranquil- 


monarch  on  his  throne,  and  thousands 
crouched  in  vassalage  '■;  before  him. 
We  allow  that  Avhen  thought  has  busi- 
ed itself  in  traversing  the  circuits  of 
creation,  shooting  rapidly  from  one  to 
another  of  those  sparkling  systems 
which  crowd  immensity,  and  striving 
to  scrutinize  the  ponderous  mechan- 
ism of  a  universe,  each  department  of 
which  is  full  of  the  harmonies  of  glo- 
rious order, — v^^e  allow  that,  after  so 
sublime  a  research,  it  is  difficult  to 
bringdown  the  mind  to  the  belief,  that 
the  affairs  of  an  individual,  and  seem- 
ingly insignificant  race,  are  watched 
over  with  as  careful  a  solicitude  as  if 
that  race  were  the  sole  tenant  of  infi- 
nite space,  and  this  our  globe  as  much 


lity,  whilst  the  hurricane  is  beating  fu- 
riously upon  him.  But,  comparatively, 
there  could  be  no  such  spectacle  if 
there  came  an  end  to  the  appointment, 
that  the  poor  we  have  always  Avith  us. 
Take  away  poverty,  and  a  veil  is  thrown 
over  the  perfections  of  the  Godhead  ; 
for  we  could  not  know  our  Maker  in 
the  fulness  of  his  compassions,  if  we 
knew  him  not  as  a  helper  in  the  extre- 
mities of  mortal  desertion.  It  is  given 
as  one  of  the  attestations  of  the  Mes- 
sias-ship  of  Jesus,  that  ''  unto  the  poor 
the  Gospel  was  preached  ;"  and  we  con- 
clude from  this,  as  well  as  from  the  fea- 
tures of  the  Gospel  in  itself,  that  there 
is  a  peculiar  adaptation  in  the  messages 
of  the  Bible  to    the  circumstances  of 


covered  by  the  wing  of  the  Omnipotent,  |  those  who  have  but  little  of  this  world's 
as  if  it  had  no  associates  in  wheeling  j  goods.  And  what  need  is  there  cf  ar- 
round  his  throne.  Yet  when  even  this  [  gument  to  prove,  that  never  does  this 
belief  is  attained,  the  contemplation  has  j  Gospel  put  on'  an  aspect  of  greater 
not  risen  to  one  half  of  its  augustness.  [  loveliness,  than  when  it  addresses  itself 
We  must  break  up  the  race  piecemeal,  j  to  the  outcast  and  the  destitute  '.    One 


we  must  take  man  by  man,  and  woman 
by  woman,  and  child  by  child — we  must 
observe  that  to  no  two  individuals  are 
there  assigned  circumstances  in  every 
respect  similar;  but  that  each  is  a  kind 
of  world  by  himself,  with  his  own  allot- 
ments, his  own  trials,  his  own  mercies 


might  almost  have  thought  that  it  had 
been  framed  for  the  express  purpose 
of  ministering  to  the  happiness  of  the 
poor.  Unto  the  men,  indeed,  of  every 
station  it  delivers  precepts  which  may 
regulate  their  duties,  and  promises 
which   may  nerve   them  to   their  dis- 


and  then  only  do  we  reach  the  climax  of  j  charge  ;  but  then  it  is  that  the  Gospel 
what  is  beautiful  and  strange,  when  we  {  appears  under  its  most  radiant  form, 
parcel  out  our  species  into  its  separate  j  when  it  enters  the  hovel  of  the  pea- 
units,  and  decide  that  not  one  of  these  !  sant,  and  lights  up  that  hovel  with  glad- 
units  is  overlooked  by  the  Almighty  ;  [  ness,  and  fans  tbe  cheek  of  the  sick 
but  that  just  as  it  is  the  same  hand  |  man  with  angels' wings,  and  causes  the 
which  paints  the  enamel  of  a  flower  |  crust  of  bread  and  the  cruse  of  water 
and  guides  the  rolling  of  a  plant,  so  it  to  be  received  as  a  banquet  of  luxury, 
is  the  same  guardianship  which  regu-  1  and  brings  into  the  wretched  chamber 
lates  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires,  and  such  a  retinue  of  ministering  spirits, 
leads  the  most  unknown  individual,  :  that  he  whom  his  fellow-men  have 
when  he  goeth  forth  to  seek  his  daily  loathed  and  abandoned,  rises  into  the 
bread.  Now  who  perceives  not  that,  j  dignity  of  a  being  whom  the  Almighty 
by  removing  the  poor  altogether  from  !  delighted  to  honor.  Oh,  verily,  the 
amongst  us,  we  should  greatly  obscure  I  brilliant    triumph    of   the  Gospel     of 


176 


SPITAL    SERMON. 


Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  won  from  the  ca- 
reer of  a  man  who  professes  godliness 
in  poverty.  The  world  despises  him, 
but  he  is  lifted  above  the  world,  and 
sits  in  heavenly  places  with  Christ:  he 
has  none  of  the  treasures  of  the  earth, 
but  the  pearl  of  great  price  he  hath 
made  his  own:  hunger  and  thirst  he 
may  be  compelled  to  endure,  but  there 
is  hidden  manna  of  which  he  eats,  and 
there  are  living  streams  of  which  he 
drinks :  he  is  worn  down  by  perpetual 
toil,  and  yet  he  hath  already  entered 
into  rest, — "  persecuted,  but  not  for- 
saken ;  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed." 
Make  poverty  as  hideous  as  it  can  ever 
be  made  by  the  concentration  of  a  hun- 
dred woes, — let  it  be  a  torn,  and  de- 
graded, and  scorned,  and  reviled  es- 
tate,— still  can  he  be  poor  of  whom  it 
is  said,  that  "  all  things  are  his, — the 
world,  or  life,  or  death,  or  things  pre- 
sent, or  things  to  come, — all  are  his, 
for  he  is  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's  1" 
We  call  this  the  brilliant  triumph  of 
the  Gospel  of  Christ ;  a  triumph  from 
the  study  of  which  may  be  gathered 
the  finest  lessons  of  Christianity  ;  a 
triumph  over  all  with  which  it  is  hard- 
est for  religion  to  grapple.  And  if  it 
be  a  stupendous  characteristic  of  the 
Gospel,  that  it  adapts  itself  to  every 
possible  emergency,  that  it  provides 
largely  for  all  the  exigencies  of  human 
beings  :  and  if  it  be  moreover  true,  that 
certain  graces  are  peculiarly  exercised 
by  poverty,  which  would  be  compara- 
tively uncalled  for  amid  the  comforts 
of  affluence,  then  we  may  fairly  make 
it  matter  of  thanksgiving  to  God,  that 
"  the  poor  we  have  always  with  us," 
seeing  that  if  they  had  ceased  from 
amongst  us,  half  the  glories  of  revela- 
tion must  have  been  shut  up  in  dark- 
ness, and  the  magnificence  of  the  pow- 
er of  the  Gospel  would  never  have  been 
measured,  and  the  loveliness  of  the 
influences  of  the  Gospel  never  been 
estimated. 

But  it  is  time  that  I  gather  to  a  close 
this  survey  of  the  ends  which  the  con- 
tinuance of  poverty  has  subserved,  and 
I  shall  therefore  only  add  one  more  to 
the  catalogue,  but  that  especially  con- 
nected with  the  occasion  of  this  our 
assembling.  The  distinction  of  socie- 
ty into  the  poor  and  rich,  introduces  a 
large  class  of  relative  duties,  Avhich 
would  have  no  existence,  if  "  the  poor 


were  not  always  amongst  us."  It  can- 
not be  called  an  overcharged  picture, 
if  I  declare  that  the  removal  of  pover- 
ty would  go  far  towards  debasing  and 
uncivilizing  Christendom;  and  that  a 
sudden  and  uniform  distribution  of 
wealth  would  throw  us  centuries  back 
in  the  march  of  moral  improvement. 
The  great  beauty  of  that  state  of  things 
which  our  text  depicts  is,  that  men  arc 
dependent  one  upon  the  other,  and  that 
occasions  perpetually  present  them- 
selves which  call  into  exercise  the 
charities  of  life.  We  need  only  remind 
you  of  the  native  selfishness  of  the  hu- 
man heart,  a  selfishness  which  is  never 
completely  eradicated,  but  which,  af- 
ter years  of  patient  resistance,  will 
creep  in  and  deform  the  most  disinte- 
rested generosity.  And  we  ask  you 
whether, — so  far  at  least  as  our  arith- 
metic is  capable  of  computing, — this 
selfishness  would  not  have  reigned  well 
nigh  unmolested,  had  the  world  been 
quite  cleared  of  spectacles  of  destitu- 
tion, and  if  each  man  had  been  left 
without  call  to  assist  his  brethren,  see- 
ing that  his  brethren  were  in  posses- 
sion of  advantages  setting  them  free 
from  all  need  of  assistance  '<  Accord- 
ing to  the  present  constitution,  men 
are  necessarily  brought  into  collision 
with  distress;  and  the  effect  of  the 
contact  is  to  soften  down  those  aspe- 
rities which  deform  the  natural  cha- 
racter, and  to  plane  away  that  rugged- 
ness  which  marks  the  surface  of  the 
untrodden  rock.  But  if  there  had  been 
no  physical  wretchedness  with  which 
such  collision  could  take  place,  then  it 
appears  to  me  evident  that  selfishness 
would  have  been  left  to  grow  up  into  a 
giant  stature,  and  that  the  granite  of 
the  soul,  which,  though  hard,  may  be 
chiselled,  would  have  turned  into  ada- 
mant, and  defied  all  impressions. 

Let  the  poor  be  no  longer  amongst 
us,  and  you  dry  up,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge,  the  scanty  fountains  of  sympa- 
thy which  still  bubble  in  the  desert. 
By  removing  exciting  causes  of  com- 
passion, you  would  virtually  sweep 
away  all  kindliness  from  the  earth; 
and  by  making  the  children  of  men  in- 
dependent on  each  other,  you  would 
wrap  up  every  one  in  his  own  passions 
and  his  own  pursuits,  and  send  him  out 
to  be  alone  in  a  multitude,  and  thus  re- 
duce the  creatures  of  the  same  species 


SPITAL    SERMON. 


177 


into  so  many  centres  of  repulsion, 
scornfully  withstanding  the  approaches 
of  companionship.  There  is  no  aspect 
under  which  our  text  can  be  presented 
more  worthy  of  your  serious  contem- 
plation than  this.  The  relative  duties, 
of  Avhich  poverty  is  the  parent,  are 
those  whose  discharge  is  most  human- 
izing to  the  rich,  and  at  the  same  time 
most  edifying  to  the  poor.  The  higher 
classes  of  society  are  naturally  tempt- 
ed to  look  down  upon  the  lower,  and 
the  lower  are  as  naturally  tempted  to 
envy  the  higher;  so  that  the  distinc- 
tions of  rank  make  way  for  the  trial 
of  humility  in  one  case  and  of  content- 
ment in  the  other.  But  if  there  be 
truth  in  this  reasoning  ;  if  there  be  a 
direct  tendency  in  the  mixture  of  va- 
rious conditions  to  the  smoothing  the 
roughness  of  the  human  spirit,  and  to 
the  cherishing  of  virtues  most  essen- 
tial to  our  well-being ;  then  may  Ave 
not  once  more  call  upon  you  to  admire 
the  wisdom  of  the  Almighty's  dispen- 
sations, inasmuch  as  it  is  appointed  by 
the  purposes  of  heaven,  that  we  should 
"  have  the  poor  always  amongst  us  1" 

Now,  having  traced  certain  of  the 
ends  which  are  decidedly  subserved  by 
the  continuance  of  poverty,  it  remains 
that  I  speak  briefly  on  our  other  topics 
of  discourse.  I  may  observe  that  the 
consideration  suggested  in  the  second 
clause  of  our  text  follows,  with  great 
force,  on  the  review  in  which  we  have 
been  engaged.  There  is  a  moral  bene- 
fit conferred  upon  society  by  our  hav- 
ing ''the  poor  always  with  us;"  but  if 
we  further  remember,  that  Christ  is 
with  us  in  the  persons  of  his  destitute 
brethren,  so  that  in  ministering  to  them 
we  minister  to  him,  then  the  varieties 
of  mortal  estate  pass  before  us  under 
a  spiritual  aspect,  and  we  find  in  po- 
verty a  storehouse  of  the  motives  of 
Christianity. 

It  is  here  that  I  take  my  stand,  with 
a  view  to  the  duty  now  intrusted  to 
my  care.  The  noble  institutions  which 
1  am  required  to  recommend  to  your 
continued  support,  are  so  many  monu- 
ments of  the  truth  that  "the  poor  we 
have  always  with  us."  I  trust  I  may 
add,  that  the  careful  and  liberal  patron- 
age which  they  have  hitherto  receiv- 
ed, has  emanated  from  a  sense  of  love 
to  the  Kedeemer ;  and  that  the  zeal 
with  which  they  shall  hereafter  be  up- 


held, will  flow  from  no  inferior  origin. 
He  Avho  endows  a  hospital,  thinking  to 
win  favor  with  God  through  this  his 
munificence,  rears,  like  the  Egyptian 
monarchs,  a  pyramid  for  his  sepulchre, 
but  leaves  his  soul  without  one  secret 
chamber  wherein  she  may  be  safe  from 
the  sleet  of  eternal  indignation.  We 
would  press  this  matter  upon  you  with 
all  the  fidelity  that  its  importance  de- 
mands. The  soul  is  not  to  be  saved  by 
any,  the  most  costly,  giving  of  alms. 
Sea  and  land  may  be  compassed,  and 
the  limbs  be  macerated  by  penance, 
and  the  strength  worn  down  by  pain- 
ful attrition,  and  the  wealth  be  lavish- 
ed in  feeding  the  hungry,  and  clothing 
the  naked  ;  and,  nevertheless,  the  wrath 
of  God  be  no  more  averted  than  if  the 
life  were  passed  in  bold  contempt  of 
his  name  and  attributes.  "  Other  foun- 
dation can  no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid, 
which  is  Jesus  Christ ;"  and  they  who 
have  entered  heaven,  climbed  that  lof- 
ty eminence  not  by  piles  of  gold  and 
silver  which  they  consecrated  to  Je- 
hovah,— not  by  accumulated  deeds  of 
legal  obedience, — but  simply  by  the 
cross  of  the  Redeemer,  putting  faith 
in  the  blood  and  righteousness  of  Him 
"  who  died,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that 
he  might  brinj:  us  unto  God." 

But  when  the  heart  is  occupied  by 
this  heaven-born  principle  of  faith, 
there  will  be  an  immediate  kindling  of 
love  towards  the  Author  of  redemp- 
tion ;  and  works  of  benevolence,  which 
sit  as  an  incubus  on  the  soul  so  long 
as  they  are  accounted  meritorious,  will 
be  wrought  as  the  natural  produce  of 
a  grateful  and  devoted  affection. '  If  • 
there  be  indeed  within  us  the  love  of 
Him  who  hath  loved  us  and  given  him- 
self for  us,  then  shall  we  be  eager  to 
support  the  foundations  of  a  god-fear- 
ing ancestry,  not  through  the  bloated 
and  deceitful  expectation  that  the  glo- 
ries of  futurity  are  to  be  purchased  by 
attention  to  the  necessitous,  but  sim- 
ply in  conformity  with  the  apostolical 
maxim,  "  Beloved,  if  God  so  loved  us, 
we  ought  also  to  love  one  another." 

The  poor  we  have  always  with  us, 
and  thus  have  we  always  abounding 
opportunities  of  testifying  our  dedica- 
tion to  Him  who  is  brought  near  by 
faith,  though  removed  from  sight,  and 
who  hath  linked  himself  in  ties  of  such 
close  brotherhood  with  mankind  that 
23 


178 


gPITAL   SERMOX- 


he  sympathizes  with  the  meanest  of  the 
race.  Upon  the  platform  of  love  to 
the  Redeemer  do  we  take  our  stand, 
when  recommending  to  your  generous 
care  those  several  Hospitals  whose 
institution  it  is  the  business  of  this 
day's  service  to  commemorate.  I  shall 
pause  while  the  report  of  their  pro- 
ceedings during  the  past  year  is  read 
to  you,  and  then  wind  up  my  discourse 
by  a  brief  exposition  of  their  claims 
upon  public  benevolence. 


Various  and  multiform  are  the  ills 
which  the  charities,  whose  report  you 
have  now  heard,  set  themselves  to  alle- 
viate. The  burden  of  poverty  is  suffi- 
ciently heavy,  even  whilst  the  animal 
frame  is  not  wasted  by  the  inroads  of 
sickness.  But  when  disease  hath  laid  its 
hand  upon  the  body,  and  the  strength 
is  fretted  by  pining  maladies,  then  es- 
pecially it  is  that  penury  is  hard  to 
bear;  and  the  man  who  has  wrestled 
bravely  against  want,  whilst  there  was 
vigor  in  his  limbs  and  play  in  his  mus- 
cles, sinks  down  wearied  and  disconso- 
late, when  the  organs  of  life  are  clog- 
ged and  impeded.  Who  would  refuse  to 
stretch  out  the  hand  of  kindness,  suc- 
coring the  afflicted  in  this  their  hour 
of  aggravated  bitterness  1  Who  could 
be  callous  enough  to  the  woes  of  hu- 
manity, to  be  slow  in  providing  that 
all  which  the  skill  and  the  wisdom  of 
man  can  effect,  towards  lightening  the 
pressure  of  sickness,  may  be  placed 
within  the  reach  of  those  who  must 
otherwise  waste  away  in  unmitigated 
suffering  1  Who,  in  short,  could  be 
bold  enough  to  call  himself  a  man,  and 
yet  give  himself  up  to  a  churlish  indif- 
ference as  to  whether  the  pains  of  his 
destitute  brethren  were  assuaged  by 
the  arts  of  medical  science,  or  whether 
those  brethren  were  left  to  the  gnaw- 
ings  of  racking  disease,  with  no  pillow 
for  the  aching  head,  with  no  healing 
draught  for  the  writhing  emaciated 
frame  1  One  malady  there  is — the 
greatest,  I  may  call  it,  to  which  flesh 
is  heir,  the  unhappy  subjects  of  which 
have  a  more  than  common  claim  on 
benevolence.  It  is  much  that  accident 
and  sickness  should  befall  the  body  ; 
but  the  climax  of  affliction  is  not  reach- 
ed until  the  mind  itself  is  out  of  joint. 


So  long  as  the  soul  retainis  possession 
of  her  capacities,  man,  however  as- 
saulted, however  agonized,  falls  not 
from  his  rank  in  the  scale  of  creation, 
but  rather,  by  displaying  the  superior- 
ity of  the  immortal  over  the  mortal, 
proves  himself  the  denizen  of  a  migh- 
tier sphere.  Man  is,  then,  most  illustri- 
ous and  most  dignified,  when  his  spir- 
itual part  rises  up  unshattered  amid 
the  ruins  of  the  corporeal,  and  gives 
witness  of  destinies  coeval  with  eter- 
nity, by  showing  an  independence  on 
the  corrodings  of  time.  But  when  the 
battery  of  attack  has  been  turned  upon 
the  mind,  when  reason  has  been  as- 
saulted and  hurled  from  her  throne, 
oh  !  then  it  is  that  the  spectacle  of  hu- 
man distress  is  one  upon  which  even 
the  beings  of  a  higher  intelligence 
than  our  own  may  look  sadly  and  piti- 
fully ;  for  the  link  of  communion  with 
the  long  hereafter  seems  thus  almost 
dissevered,  and  that  pledge  of  an  un- 
bounded duration, — a  pledge  of  which 
no  bodily  decay  can  spoil  us — a  pledge 
which  is  won  by  the  soul  out  of  the 
breakings-up  of  bone  and  sinew — for  a 
while  is  torn  away  from  man,  and  he 
remains  the  fearful  nondescript  of  cre- 
ation, dust  lit  up  Deity,  and  yet  Deity 
lost  in  dust. 

Ye  cannot  be  lukewarm  in  the  sup- 
port of  an  institution  which,  like  one  of 
those  whose  foundation  we  are  met  to 
commemorate,  throws  open  its  gates  to 
the  subjects  of  this  worst  of  calami- 
ties, and  it  were  to  transgress  the  due 
bounds  of  my  office,  if  I  should  insist 
further  on  the  claims  of  those  Hospitals 
which  have  been  reared  for  the  purpose 
of  mitigating  the  ills  attendent  on  bodi- 
ly or  mental  disease. 

But  as  the  citizens  of  a  great  metro- 
polis, you  have  a  duty  to  perform  in 
watching  the  moral  health  of  an  over- 
grown population.  It  becomes  you 
to  apply  wholesome  correctives  to  a 
spreading  dissolution  of  manners,  and 
to  adopt  such  processes  in  dealing  with 
the  vicious  and  disorderly,  as  seem 
best  calculated  to  arrest  the  contagion. 
There  would  be  a  grievous  deficiency 
in  the  establishment  of  this  gigantic 
city,  if  it  numbered  not  amongst  its 
hospitals,  one  especially  set  apart  to 
the  reception  of  the  vagrant  and  the 
dissolute.  The  beginnings  of  crime 
must  be  dillgentlj'  checked,  if  we  wish 


S?ITAL    SERMON. 


179 


to  preserve  soundness  in  our  popula- 
tion ;  and  the  best  legislation  is  that 
which,  by  dealing  strenuously  with  mi- 
nor offences,  employs  the  machinery 
most  calculated  to  prevent  the  com- 
mission of  greater. 

But  I  turn  gladly  to  the  claims  of  an 
institution  which  can  need  no  advocacy 
from  the  preacher's  lips,  seeing  that 
the  objects  who  are  sheltered  beneath 
its  munificent  protection,  surround  me, 
and  plead  eloquently,  though  silently, 
their  own  cause.  Founded  and  fos- 
tered by  the  princes  of  the  land,  the 
hospital,  which  bears  the  name  of  Him 
who  died  as  our  surety,  constitutes  one 
of  the  prime  ornaments  of  this  empo- 
rium of  wealth  and  greatness.  Equalled 
by  no  other  institution  in  the  number 
of  those  for  whose  education  and  main- 
tenance it  provides,  and  excelled  by 
none  in  the  soundness  of  the  learning 
which  it  communicates,  I  pass  not  the 
strictness  of  truth  when  1  affirm,  that 
he  who  would  exhibit  the  splendor  of 
British  philanthropy  should  take  his 
station  in  this  pulpit,  and  point  to  the 
right  hand  and  to  the  left.  We  have 
here  a  large  multitude  of  the  rising 
generation  trained  up  in  those  princi- 
ples which  are  calculated,  under  God's 
blessing,  to  make  them  valuable  mem- 
bers of  the  community ;  and  such  is  the 
course  of  their  education,  that  whilst 
many  are  fitted  to  fill  stations  in  the  va- 
rious departments  of  trade,  others  are 
prepared  for  the  higher  studies  of  a 
university,  and  thus  introduced  to  the 
most  solemn  occupations  of  life.  Who 
can  behold  such  a  number  of  his  fellow- 
creatures,  each  Avith  the  dew  of  his 
youth  just  fresh  upon  him,  and  not  re- 
joice that  the  early  years  of  their  lives 
are  thus  shielded  and  cherished  1  Who 
can  remark  how  each  bears  upon  his 
breast  these  animating  words,  "  He  is 
risen,"  and  not  desire  that  these  young 
heirs  of  immortality  may  grow  up  into 
manhood,  rooted  in  the  faith  of  Him 
who  is  "  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life," 
and  showing  that  they  themselves  are 
"  risen  with  Christ,"  by  "  seeking  those 
things  which  are  above,  where  Christ 
sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  Godl" 
The  snows  of  a  polar  winter  must  rest 
upon  the  heart  which  throbs  not  with 
emotion  at  surveying  so  many  born  in 
troublous  times,  who,  with  all  the  airy 
©xpectanciei  of  youthful  and  untried  \ 


spirits,  must  go  out  into  the  walks  of 
society,  in  days  when  they  are  more 
than  commonly  swept  by  the  chilling 
blights  of  scepticism  and  vice- 
Unnecessary  though  I  deem  it  to 
dwell  at  any  length  on  the  duty  of  sup- 
porting this  venerable  establishment, 
yet  would  I  speak  affectionately  to  you 
who  are  its  inmates,  and  conjure  you, 
"  if  there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be 
any  praise,"  to  "remember  your  Cre- 
ator in  the  days  of  your  youth."  Whilst 
you  are  still  strangers  to  the  seduc- 
tions of  an  ensnaring  world,  I  would 
warn  you  against  the  evils  which  will 
gird  you  round  when  you  go  forth 
from  the  peaceful  asylum  of  your  child- 
hood, and  mix,  as  you  unavoidably 
must,  with  those  who  lie  in  wait  to  de- 
stroy the  unwary.  I  would  tell  you 
that  there  is  no  happiness  but  in  the 
fear  of  the  Almighty;  that  if  you  would 
so  pass  through  life  as  not  to  tremble 
and  quail  at  the  approach  of  death, 
make  it  your  morning  and  your  even- 
ing prayer,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  may 
take  possession  of  your  souls,  and  lead 
you  so  to  love  the  Lord  Jesus  in  sin- 
cerity, that  you  may  not  be  allured 
from  the  holiness  of  religion  by  any  of 
the  devices  of  a  wicked  generation. 
Ye  read  in  your  classical  stories  of  a 
monarch  who  wept  as  his  countless 
army  passed  before  him,  staggered  by 
the  thought,  that  yet  a  few  years,  and 
those  stirring  hosts  would  lie  motion- 
less in  the  chambers  of  the  grave. 
Might  not  a  christian  minister  weep 
over  you,  as  he  gazes  on  the  freshness 
of  your  days,  and  considers  that  it  is 
but  too  possible,  that  you  may  hereaf- 
ter give  ear  to  the  scorner  and  the  se- 
ducer. Thus  might  the  buds  of  early 
promise  be  nipped  ;  and  it  might  come 
to  pass,  that  you,  the  children,  it  may 
be,  of  pious  parents,  over  whose  infancy 
a  godly  father  may  have  watched,  and 
whose  opening  hours  may  have  been 
guarded  by  the  tender  solicitudes  of  a 
righteous  mother,  would  entail  on  your- 
selves a  heritage  of  shame,  and  go 
down  at  the  judgment  into  the  pit  of 
the  unbeliever  and  the  profligate.  Let 
this  warning  word  be  remembered  by 
you  all :  it  is  simple  enough  for  the 
youngest,  it  is  important  enough  for 
the  eldest.  You  cannot  begin  too  soon 
to  serve  the  Lord,  but  you  may  easily 
put  it  off*  too  long  j  and  the  thing  which 


180 


SPITAX.    SERMOK. 


will  be  least  regretted  when  you  come 
to  die  is,  that  you  gave  the  first  days 
of  existence  to  preparation  for  heaven. 
But  I  refrain  from  enlarging  further. 
I  have  touched  briefly  on  the  respec- 
tive claims  to  support  of  those  noble 
institutions  which  have  been  founded 
amongst  us  by  the  piety  of  our  forefa- 
thers:  I  add  only  that  the  times  in 
Avhich  we  live  are  full  of  perplexity 
and  danger.  The  nations  of  the  world 
heave  and  swell  like  the  waters  of  a 
stormy  ocean.  There  is  going  forth 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
earth  a  restless  and  a  revolutionary 
spirit;  and  these,  our  islands,  which 
have  hitherto  been  curtained  by  the 
Aving  of  an  especial  protection,  seem 
not  altogether  unvisited  by  the  perils 
vhich  weave  themselves  around  other 
ands.  What  then  shall  -we  do  but  arise 
n  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  and  give 
urselves  strenuously  to  every  labor 
vhich  may  improve  the  moral  and  phy- 
sical condition  of  our  people,  and  strive, 
as  befits  those  who  are  alive  to  the 
startling  aspect  of  the  world,  so  to  sur- 
round ourselves  with  the  machinery  of 
christian  benevolence,  that  we  may  re- 
pel the  aggressions  of  infidel  hardi- 
aood  1  Let  there  be  no  closing  our 
eyes  to  the  difficulties  by  which  we 
re  environed;  let  there  be  no  giving 
sar  to  the  unhallowed  speculations  of 
,1  specious  liberalism,  which  would 
^how  us  new  ways  to  national  great- 
ness and  national  renown,  over  the 
wreck  of  all  that  hath  been  held  most 
sacred  by  our  ancestry.  If  England 
wish  to  preserve  her  might  amongst 
the  nations,  let  her  sons  and  her  daugh- 


ters confess  their  transgressions  and 
repent  them  of  their  sins :  let  covetous- 
ness — the  curse  and  darling  of  com- 
mercial cities,  be  abhorred,  and  lust 
renounced,  and  ambition  mortified,  and 
every  bold  working  of  impiety  chased 
from  amongst  them  ;  and  let  them,  co- 
vered with  the  sackcloth  of  deep  hu- 
miliation, bind  themselves  in  a  holy 
league  for  the  advancement  of  the 
purposes  of  an  enlarged  philanthropy. 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  may  the  hope 
be  cherished,  that  the  political  hurri- 
canes which  shake  the  dynasties  of 
Europe,  shall  leave  unscathed  our  island 
sovereignty  ;  and  that  whilst  the  rush- 
ing of  a  wrathful  deluge  dash  away  the 
land-marks  of  foreign  states,  Britain 
may  lift  her  white  cliffs  above  the 
surges,  and  rise  amid  the  eddies  like 
Mount  Ararat  from  out  the  flood.  "  The 
poor  you  have  always  with  you  :"  meet 
their  spiritual  and  temporal  necessities 
with  the  alacrity  and  zeal  which  be- 
come the  followers  of  Christ ;  be  your- 
selves men  of  prayer,  and,  so  far  as 
your  influence  extends,  lead  others  to 
wrestle  with  the  Almighty ;  and  then, 
oh  tell  us  not  that  England's  greatness 
hath  touched  its  zenith  ;  ask  us  not  for 
the  lament  which  may  be  wailed  over 
her  departed  majesty, — home  of  mer- 
cy, home  of  piety,  thou  shalt  still  con- 
tinue the  home  of  plenty,  the  home  of 
peace  ;  the  sunshine  of  heaven's  choice 
favor  shall  sleep  upon  thy  fields,  and 
the  blithe  music  of  contentment  be 
heard  in  thy  valleys  ;  for  "  happy  is 
that  people  that  is  in  such  a  case, 
yea,  blessed  is  that  people  whose  God 
is  the  Lord." 


SERMONS  PREACHED  IN  GREAT  ST.  MARY'S  CHURCH,  CAMBRIDGE; 

AT  THE  EVENING  LECTURE  IN  FEBRUARY,  1836  AND  1837. 


18  3  6. 


SERMON. 


THE  GREATNESS  OF  SALVATION  AN  ARGUMENT  FOR  THE 
PERIL  OF  ITS  NEGLECT. 


"  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation  1" — Hebrews,  2  :  3. 


There  is  nothing  affirmed  in  these 
words,  but  the  greatness  of  the  salva- 
tion proposed  by  the  Gospel ;  and  from 
this  greatness  seems  inferred  the  im- 
possibility of  escape,  if  we  neglect  the 
salvation.  And  there  is,  we  think,  sur- 
prising force  in  the  question  of  our  text, 
when  nothing  but  the  stupendousness 
of  salvation  is  regarded  as  our  proof, 
that  to  neglect  it  is  to  perish.  It  is  a 
minister's  duty,  whether  addressing  his 
own  congregation,  or  those  to  whom 
he  is  comparatively  a  stranger,  to  strive 
by  every  possible  motive  to  stir  his 
hearers  to  the  laying  hold  on  salvation, 
that  so,  whatever  their  final  portion,  he 
may  be  free  from  their  blood.  And 
therefore  are  we  desirous  to  press  you 
this  night  for  an  answer  to  the  question, 
"  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect 
so  great  salvation  V  We  wish  you  hon- 
estly to  examine,  whether  the  magni- 
tude of  redemption  be  not  of  itself  an 
overcoming  demonstration  that  ruin 
must  follow  its  neglect.  We  would 
keep  you  close  to  this  point.  The  pow- 
er of  the  question  lies  in  this — the  peril 
of  the  neglect  proved  by  the  greatness 
of  the  salvation. 

And  we  are  sure  that  there  are  many 


striking  considerations,  flowing  from 
the  fact  that  the  salvation  is  so  great, 
which  must  force  you  to  admit  the  im- 
possibility of  escape  asserted  by  St. 
Paul.  We  shall  necessarily,  as  we  pro- 
ceed, descend  so  far  into  particulars, 
as  to  take  by  themselves  certain  ele- 
ments of  the  greatness  in  question. 
But,  whatever  the  constituent  parts  in- 
to which  we  may  resolve  salvation,  it 
must  be  simply  as  great  that  we  exhibit 
this  salvation  ;  and  from  the  greatness, 
and  from  this  alone,  must  we  prove  that 
none  can  escape  who  neglect  the  sal- 
vation. You  see  clearly  that  the  pecu- 
liarity of  the  passage  lies  in  this,  that 
it  infers  the  peril  of  the  neglect  from 
the  greatness  of  the  salvation.  And  in 
laboring  at  illustrating  the  accuracy  of 
this  inference,  and  the  pressing  on  you 
your  consequent  danger  if  careless  of 
the  soul,  we  shall  attempt  no  other  ar- 
rangement of  our  discourse,  but  that 
which  will  set  before  you  in  succession, 
certain  respects  in  which  salvation  is 
great,  and  use  each  successive  exhibi- 
tion as  a  proof,  that  to  despise  what  is 
thus  great,  must  be  to  make  sure  de- 
struction. 

Now  if  we  were  arguing  with  an 


182 


THE    GREATNESS    OF    SALVATION   AN 


atheist,  the  man  who  disbelieves  the 
existence  of  a  God  ;  and  if  we  desired 
to  convince  him  on  this,  the  fundamen- 
tal article  of  all  religion,  we  should 
probably  endeavor  to  reason  up  from 
the  creation  to  the  Creator,  using  the 
traces  of  an  intelligent  cause,  by  which 
we  seem  surrounded,  in  proof  that  a 
mightier  architect  than  chance  con- 
structed our  dwelling.  But  we  are  quite 
aware  that  our  adversary  might  demand 
a  demonstration,  that  nothing  short  of 
an  infinite  power  could  have  builded 
and  furnished  this  planet ;  and  we  are 
not  perhaps  well  able  to  define  at  what 
point  the  finite  must  cease,  and  the  in- 
finite commence.  It  may  be  conceded 
that  certain  results  lie  beyond  human 
agency,  and  yet  disputed  whether  they 
need  such  an  agency  as  we  strictly  call 
divine.  What  men  could  not  produce, 
might  possibly  be  produced  by  beings 
mightier  than  men,  and  yet  those  be- 
ings stop  far  short  of  Omnipotence. 

We  do  not,  therefore,  think  of  main- 
taining, that  the  evidences  of  wisdom 
and  power,  graven  on  this  creation,  are 
the  strongest  which  can  be  even  con- 
ceived. On  the  contrary,  we  will  not 
pretend  to  deny  that  we  can  imagine 
them  greatly  multiplied  and  strength- 
ened. It  is  manifest,  that  the  keener 
our  faculties,  and  the  more  earnest  our 
investigation,  the  clearer  do  these  evi- 
dences appear  ;  for  there  is  no  compari- 
son between  those  apprehensions  of  the 
works  of  creation  which  the  man  of 
science  has,  and  those  within  reach  of 
the  illiterate  observer.  And,  therefore, 
it  is  quite  conceivable  that  there  miglit 
be  either  such  a  communication  of  more 
powerful  faculties,  or  such  a  laying  bare 
of  the  hidden  wonders  of  nature,  that 
our  present  amount  of  acquaintance 
with  creation  should  be  as  nothing 
when  compared  with  what  might  then 
be  attained.  What  surprises  a  man, 
what  appears  wonderful  to  him,  be- 
cause beyond  his  skill  to  effect,  or  his 
wisdom  to  explain,  does  not  necessari- 
ly present  matter  of  surprise  to  an  an- 
gel :  the  standard  of  wonderfulness 
grows  with  the  faculties  of  the  crea- 
ture ;  there  being  nothing  to  overawe 
and  astonish,  till  there  is  something  far 
surpassing  its  power  or  its  intelligence. 

Hence,  we  should  not  perhaps  feel 
warranted  in  saying  to  the  atheist, 
how  can  you  believe,  if  you  resist  so 


great  tokens  of  a  Deity  as  are  stamped 
on  the  scenery  by  which  you  are  en- 
compassed] If  we  can  suppose  yet 
greater  tokens,  it  is  possible  that  he 
who  will  not  yield  to  the  evidence  now 
vouchsafed,  would  yield  to  that  migh- 
tier which  imagination  can  array.  The 
atheist  might  say  to  us,  I  am  not  con- 
vinced by  what  I  view  around  me.  My 
own  thoughts  can  suggest  stronger 
witness  for  a  Deity,  if  a  Deity  there 
be,  than  you  think  impressed  on  this 
earth,  and  its  furniture,  and  its  inhabi- 
tants. And  whilst  my  mind  can  arrange 
a  greater  proof,  you  can  have  no  right 
to  denounce  my  unbelief  as  insurmount- 
able, because  not  surmounted  by  what 
you  reckon  so  great. 

Now  we  stay  not  to  show  you,  that 
he  who  can  resist  the  evidences  of  an 
Infinite  First  cause,  which  are  accessi- 
ble to  dwellers  on  this  planet,  would 
probably  remain  unconvinced  if  the 
universe,  in  all  its  spreadings,  were 
open  to  his  expatiations.  He  would 
carry  with  him  that  desire  to  disbe- 
lieve, which  is  the  mainspring  of  infi- 
delity 5  and  this  would  always  furnish 
an  excuse  for  remaining  the  atheist. 
But  if  we  cannot  say  to  the  atheist, 
when  pointing  to  the  surrounding  cre- 
ation, you  withstand  an  evidence  than 
which  there  cannot  be  a  greater,  we 
can  say  to  the  worldly-minded,  when 
pointing  to  the  scheme  of  redemption, 
you  neglect  a  salvation  than  which 
there  cannot  even  be  imagined  a  migh- 
tier. If  the  atheist  might  appeal  from 
proofs  which  have  been  given,  to  yet 
stronger  which  might  have  been  fur- 
nished, we  deny  that  the  worldly-mind- 
ed can  appeal  from  what  God  hath 
done  on  their  behalf,  to  a  more  mar- 
vellous interference  which  imagination 
can  picture.  It  is  the  property  of  re- 
demption, if  not  of  creation,  that  it 
leaves  no  room  for  imagination.  We 
will  not  defy  a  man  to  array  in  his  mind 
the  imagery  of  an  universe,  presenting 
the  impress  of  Godhead  more  clearly 
than  that  in  which  we  are  placed.  As 
we  have  already  said,  even  if  the  uni- 
verse remained  the  same,  we  can  sup- 
pose such  change  in  our  faculties  of 
observation  as  would  clothe  every  star, 
and  every  atom,  and  every  insect,  with 
a  hundred-fold  more  of  the  proof  that 
there  is  a  God.  But  we  will  defy  a  man 
to  conceive  a  scheme  for  the  rescue  of 


ARGUMENT    FOR    THE    PERIL    OF    ITS    NEGLECT. 


183 


a  lost  world,  which  should  exceed,  in 
any  single  respect,  that  laid  open  by 
the  Gospel.  We  affirm  of  this  scheme, 
that  it  is  so  great  that  you  cannot  sup- 
pose a  greater.  It  is  not  because  our 
faculties  are  bounded,  that  it  seems  to 
us  wonderful.  We  have  right  to  consi- 
der that  it  wears  the  same  aspect  to 
the  highest  of  creatures :  the  mystery 
of  godliness  being  unsearchable  as  well 
to  angels  as  to  men.  And  if  it  be  sup- 
posable  that  there  are  scenes,  which 
other  beings  are  permitted  to  traverse, 
far  outdoing  in  the  wonderfulness  of 
structure,  and  the  majesty  of  adorn- 
ment, the  earth  on  which  we  dwell — so 
that  this  creation  is  not  the  richest  in 
the  tracery  of  power  and  skill — we  pro- 
nounce it  insupposable,  that  there  could 
have  been  made  an  arrangement  on  be- 
half of  fallen  creatures,  fuller  ofDivinity, 
and  more  worthy  amazement,  than  that 
o[  which  we  are  actually  the  objects. 

This  is  our  first  way  of  putting,  or 
rather  vindicating,  the  question  of  our 
text.  We  contend  that  atheism  has  a 
far  better  apology  for  resisting  the 
evidences  of  a  God  which  had  spread 
over  creation,  than  worldly-mindedness 
for  manifesting  insensibility  to  redemp- 
tion through  Christ.  Atheism  may  ask 
for  a  wider  sphere  of  expatiation,  and 
a  more  glowing  impress  of  Deity  5  for 
it  falls  within  our  power  to  conceive 
of  richer  manifestations  of  the  invisi- 
ble Godhead.  But  worldly-mindedness 
cannot  ask  for  more  touching  proof 
q(  the  love  of  the  Almighty,  or  for  a 
more  bounteous  provision  for  human 
necessities,  or  for  more  stirring  motive 
to  repentance  and  obedience.  Those  of 
you  who  are  not  overcome  by  what 
has  been  done  for  them,  and  who  treat 
with  indifference  and  contempt  the 
proffers  of  the  Gospel,  are  just  in  the 
position  of  the  atheist  who  should  re- 
main the  atheist  after  God  had  set  be- 
fore him  the  highest  possible  demon- 
stration of  himself.  It  is  not  too  bold  a 
thing  to  say,  that,  in  redeeming  us, 
God  exhausted  himself.  He  gave  him- 
self; and  Vv'hat  greater  gift  could  re- 
main unbestowed  I  So  then,  if  you  ne- 
glect salvation,  there  is  nothing  which 
you  would  not  neglect.  God  himself 
could  provide  nothing  greater ;  and  if 
therefore  you  are  unaffected  by  this, 
you  only  prove  yourselves  incapable 
of  beina:  moved. 


Thus  it  is  the  greatness  of  salvation 
which  proves  the  utter  ruin  which  must 
follow  its  neglect.  If  God  have  done 
for  you  the  utmost  which  even  Deity 
could  do  ;  if  all  the  divine  attributes, 
unlimited  as  they  are,  have  combined, 
yea,  even  exhausted  themselves  in  the 
scheme  of  your  rescue  ;  if  the  Creator 
could  not  by  any  imaginable  display 
have  shown  himself  more  compassion- 
ate or  more  terrible,  mightier  to  save 
or  mightier  to  crush ;  and  if  you  with- 
stand all  this,  if  you  are  indifferent  to 
all  this,  if  you  "  neglect  so  great  sal- 
vation;" may  we  not  affirm  that  the 
magnitude  of  that  which  you  despise 
is  an  incontrovertible  proof  that  you 
must  inevitably  perish  1  May  we  not 
argue,  that,  having  shown  yourselves 
too  hardened  to  yield  to  that  into  which 
Deity  hath  thrown  all  his  strength,  and 
too  proud  to  be  humbled  by  that  which 
involved  the  humiliation  of  God,  and 
too  grovelling  to  be  attracted  by  that 
which  unites  the  human  to  the  divine, 
and  too  cold  to  be  warmed  by  that 
which  burns  with  the  compassions  of 
Him  who  is  love — may  we  not  argue 
that  you  thus  prove  of  yourselves,  that 
there  is  no  possible  arrangement  by 
which  you  could  be  saved  ;  that,  resist- 
ing what  in  itself  is  greatest,  you  de- 
monstrate, in  a  certain  sense,  that  you 
cannot  be  overcome;  and  oh!  then,  if 
we  have  nothing  to  argue  from  but  the 
stupendousness  of  redemption,  what 
energy  is  there  in  the  question,  "How 
shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great 
salvation  1" 

But  it  is  necessary,  as  we  before  ob- 
served, that  we  consider  more  in  detail 
the  greatness  of  salvation,  and  by  re- 
solvinof    it    into    its    element*;,     make 
j  clearer  the   proof  of  the  peril  ot    ne- 
glect.   Let  it  then  first  be   remarked, 
that  salvation  is  great  because  of  the 
agency  through  which  it  was  effected. 
You  know  that  the  Author  of  our  re- 
demption   was    none    other    than  the 
eternal  Son  of  God,  who  had  covenant- 
ed from  the  first  to  become  the  surety 
}  of  the  fallen.    It   came  not  within   the 
I  power  of  an  angel  to  make  atonement 
]  for  our  sins  :  the  angelic  nature  might 
I  have  been  united   to    the    human,  but 
j  there  would  not  have  been  dignity   in 
the  one  to  give  the  required  worth  to 
I  the  sufferings  of  the  other.    So  far  as 
!  we  have  the  power  of  ascertaining,  it 


184 


THE    GREATNESS    OF    SALVATION   AN 


would  seem  that  no  being  but  the  Di- 
vine, taking  to  himself  flesh,  could 
have  satisfied  justice  in  the  stead  of 
fallen  men.  But  then  this  is  precisely 
the  arrangement  which  has  been  made 
on  our  behalf.  It  was  the  second  person 
in  the  ever-blessed  Trinity,  who,  com- 
passionating the  ruin  which  transgres- 
sion had  brought  on  this  earth,  assu- 
med our  nature,  exhausted  our  curse, 
and  died  our  death.  And  certainly,  if 
there  be  an  aspect  under  which  re- 
demption appears  great,  it  is  when  sur- 
veyed as  the  achievement  of  the  only 
begotten  of  the  Father.  The  majesty 
of  the  agent  gives  stupendousness  to 
the  work,  and  causes  it  to  dilate  till  it 
far  exceeds  comprehension.  It  is  main- 
ly on  this  account  that  we  can  declare 
even  imagination  unable  to  increase 
the  greatness  of  the  arrangement  for 
our  rescue.  This  arrangement  demand- 
ed that  God  himself  should  become 
man,  and  sustain  all  the  wrath  which 
sin  had  provoked  ;  and  what  can  be 
imagined  more  amazing  than  the  fact, 
that  what  the  arrangement  demanded 
literally  took  place'?  The  problem,  how 
God  could  be  just  and  yet  the  justifier 
of  sinners,  baffled  all  finite  intelligence, 
because  a  divine  person  alone  could 
mediate  between  God  and  man  ;  and  if 
created  wisdom  could  have  discover- 
ed the  necessity,  it  would  never  have 
surmised  the  possibility. 

Now  certainly  that  which,  more  than 
any  thing  else,  rendered  human  re- 
demption insupposable,  when  submit- 
ted to  the  understanding  of  the  very 
highest  of  creatures,  must  be  confessed 
to  be  also  that  which  gives  a  sublime 
awfulness  to  the  plan,  and  invests  it 
with  a  grandeur  which  increases  as  we 
gaze.  In  looking  at  the  cross,  and  con- 
sidering that  our  sins  are  laid  upon  the 
being  who  hangs  there  in  weakness  and 
ignominy,  the  overconjing  thought  is, 
that  this  being  is  none  other  than  the 
everlasting  God  ;  and  that,  however  he 
seems  mastered  by  the  powers  of  wick- 
edness, he  could  by  a  single  word,  ut- 
tered from  the  tree  on  which  he  immo- 
lates himself,  scatter  the  universe  into 
nothing,  and  call  up  an  assemblage  of 
new  worlds,  and  new  systems.  This 
makes  salvation  great — I  shall  know 
how  great,  when  I  can  measure  the  dis- 
tance between  the  eternal  and  the  pe- 
rishable, omnipotence  and  feebleness, 


immortality  and  death.  But  if  salvation 
is  great,  because  the  Savior  is  Divine, 
assuredly  the  greatness  of  salvation 
proves  the  peril  of  neglect.  To  neglect 
the  salvation  must  be  to  throw  scorn 
on  the  Savior  j  and  that  Savior  being 
so  great,  "  how  shall  we  escape  1"  Oh, 
if  it  give  an  unmeasured  vastness  to 
the  work  of  our  redemption,  that  he 
who  undertook,  and  carried  on,  and 
completed  that  work,  was  "  the  bright- 
ness of  the  Father's  glory,  and  the  ex- 
press image  of  his  person;"  if  the  fact, 
that  he  "  who  bare  our  sins  in  his  own 
body  on  the  tree,"  was  that  illustrious 
being  "  for  whom  are  all  things,  and 
by  whom  are  all  things,"  magnify  our 
rescue  from  death  till  thought  itself 
fails  to  overtake  its  boundaries;  then 
there  is  a  greatness  in  the  proffered 
deliverance,  derived  from  the  greatness 
of  the  deliverer,  which  proclaims  us 
ruined  if  we  treat  the  ofler  with  con- 
tempt. We  are  taught,  by  the  great- 
ness, that  there  can  be  salvation  in 
none  other,  for  God  would  not  have 
interposed,  could  any  other  have  deli- 
vered. We  are  taught  that  to  neglect, 
is  to  set  at  nought  Kim  who  can  crush 
by  a  breath,  and  to  convert  into  an  en- 
emy, pledged  to  our  destruction,  the 
alone  being  that  could  be  found  through- 
out a  peopled  immensity  powerful  e- 
nough  for  our  rescue.  And  what  say 
you,  men  and  brethren — if  the  great- 
ness of  the  salvation  depend  on  the 
greatness  of  the  Savior,  and  this  great- 
ness demonstrate  that  to  neglect  the 
salvation,  is  to  throw  away  our  only 
hope,  and  to  array  against  ourselves 
that  fiercest  of  all  vengeance,  Divine 
mercy  scorned — what  say  you,  in  con- 
tradiction of  the  impossibility  asserted 
by  the  question,  "  How  shall  we  escape, 
if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation  1" 

But  again — we  may  affirm  this  salva- 
tion to  be  great,  because  of  the  com- 
pleteness and  fulness  of  the  work,  great 
in  itself,  as  well  as  in  its  Author.  We 
might  be  sure  that  what  a  divine  agent 
undertook  would  be  thoroughly  effect- 
ed; and  accordingly,  the  more  we  ex- 
amine the  scheme  of  our  redemption, 
the  more  may  we  prove  it  in  every 
sense  perfect.  The  sins  of  the  whole 
race  were  laid  upon  Christ ;  and  the  di- 
vinity gave  such  worth  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  humanity,  that  the  whole 
race  might  be  pardoned,  if  the  whole 


ARGUMENT    FOR    THE    PErUL    OF    ITS    NEGLECT. 


185 


race  woultl  put  faith  in  the  substitute. 
There  is  consequently  nothing  in  our 
own  guiltiness  to  make  us  hesitate  as 
to  the  possibility  of  forgiveness.  The 
penalties  due  to  a  violated  law  have 
been  discharged  ;  and  therefore,  if  we 
believe  in  our  suretj^,  we  are  as  free  as 
though  we  had  never  transgressed.  And 
is  not  that  a  great  salvation,  which 
places  pardon  within  reach  of  the  vilest 
offenders;  and  which,  providing  an 
atonement  commensurate  with  every 
amount  of  iniquity,  forbids  any  to  de- 
spair who  have  a  wish  to  be  saved  1 

But  yet  further — this  salvation  not 
only  provides  for  our  pardon,  so  that 
punishment  may  be  avoided  ;  it  pro- 
vides also  for  our  acceptance,  so  that 
happiness  may  be  obtained.  The  faith 
which  so  interests  iis  in  Christ,  that 
we  are  reckoned  to  have  satisfied  the 
law's  penalties  in  him,  obtains  for  us 
also  the  imputation  of  his  righteous- 
ness, so  that  we  have  a  spotless  cover- 
ing in  which  to  appear  before  God. 
Hence  we  have  share  in  the  obedience, 
as  well  as  in  the  suffering  of  the  Medi- 
ator; and  whilst  the  latter  delivers  from 
the  death  we  had  deserved,  the  former 
consigns  to  the  immortality  we  could 
never  have  merited.  And  is  not  this  a 
great  salvation,  great  in  its  simplicity, 
great  in  its  comprehensiveness,  which 
thus  meets  the  every  necessity  of  the 
guilty  and  helpless;  and  which,  arrang- 
ed for  creatures  whom  it  finds  in  the 
lowest  degradation,  leaves  them  not 
till  elevated  to  the  very  summit  of 
dignityl 

But  if  salvation  be  thus  great  in  the 
fulness  of  its  provisions,  what  again 
does  the  greatness  prove  but  the  peril 
of  neglect  1  If  the  salvation  were  in 
any  respect  deficient,  there  might  be 
excuse  for  the  refusing  it  our  attention. 
If  it  met  our  necessities  only  in  part, 
leaving  much  to  be  sought  in  other 
quarters,  and  supplied  from  other  sour- 
ces, it  would  necessarily  lose  much  of 
its  greatness;  and  as  its  greatness  di- 
minished, so  perhaps  would  its  claim  on 
our  eager  acceptance.  If,  providing  par- 
don for  past  offences,  it  left  us  to  stand 
or  fall  for  the  future  by  our  own  obe- 
dience, making  final  security  the  result 
of  nothing  but  our  diligence,  neglect 
might  be  palliated  by  the  confessed  fact, 
that  what  it  offered  sufficed  not  for  our 
wants.    To  pardon  me,  and  then  leave 


j  me  to  gain  heaven  by  my  own  works, 
!  were  to  make  death  as  sure  as  ever, 
but  only  more  terrible,  because  I  had 
I  been  mocked  with  the  prospect  of  life. 
And  1  might  have  an  apology  for  not 
giving  heed  to  the  Gospel  and  not  striv- 
ing to  comply  with  its  demands,  if  I 
could  plead  that  this  Gospel  proffered 
only  the  half  of  what  I  need,  and  that 
I  could  no  more  furnish  the  remainder 
than  provide  the  whole.  But  the  salva- 
tion is  great,  so  great  that  I  cannot  find 
the  moral  want  of  which  it  does  not 
present  the  supply.  It  is  so  great,  that 
I  can  only  describe  it  by  saying,  that 
Divine  knowledge  took  the  measure  of 
every  human  necessity,  and  Divine  love 
and  power  gathered  into  this  salvation 
a  more  than  adequate  provision.  What 
then  if  we  neglect  this  salvation  '?  The 
salvation  is  great,  as  furnishing  all 
which  we  require  :  what  then  is  to  neg- 
lect it,  but  to  put  from  us  all  which 
we  require!  The  salvation  is  great,  be- 
cause meeting  with  a  wonderful  preci- 
sion our  every  exigence  :  what  then  is 
to  neglect  it,  but  to  leave  our  every 
exigence  unsatisfied  and  uncared  for  '? 
The  salvation  is  great,  because  profler- 
ing  the  pardon  of  sin,  and  a  righteous- 
ness which  will  endure  the  scrutinies 
of  the  Omniscient,  and  victory  over 
death,  and  acquittal,  yea,  reward,  at  the 
judgment :  what  then  is  it  to  neglect 
it,  but  to  keep  the  burden  of  unexpia- 
ted  guilt,  and  to  resolve  to  go  hence 
with  no  plea  against  wrath,  and  to  leave 
the  sting  in  death,  and  to  insure  dreari- 
j  ness  and  agony  through  eternity  1  Oh, 
it  isthe  completeness  of  salvation  which 
}  gives  it  its  greatness.  Salvation  is  col- 
!  lossal,  towering  till  lost  in  the  inacces- 
sible majesty  of  its  Author,  because 
containing  whatever  is  required  for  the 
transformation  of  man  from  the  child 
of  wrath  to  the  child  of  God,  from 
death  to  life,  from  the  shattered,  and 
corruptible,  and  condemned,  to  the  glo- 
rious, and  imperishable,  and  approved. 
But  if  all  this  give  greatness  to  salva- 
tion, beyond  doubt  it  is  the  great- 
ness which  proves,  that,  in  treating  the 
Gospel  with  indifference,  we  block  up 
against  ourselves  the  alone  path  by 
which  sinners  can  flee  Divine  wrath. 
As  the  scheme  of  redemption  rises  be- 
fore us  in  its  grandeur  and  plenitude — 
a  crrandeur  which  makes  it  more  than 
commensurate  with  the  ruin  which 
24 


186 


THE   GREATNESS    OF    SALVATION   AN 


apostacy  hath  fastened  on  mankind, 
and  a  plenitude  through  which  it  nneets 
the  every  want  of  every  one  who  longs 
to  grasp  eternal  life — why,  the  more 
magnificent,  and  the  more  comprehen- 
sive, appears  the  proflered  deliverance, 
with  the  more  energy  does  it  echo  back 
the  question  of  the  apostle,  "  How 
shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great 
salvation  1" 

But  there  are  yet  other  v/ays  in  which 
we  may  upliold  the  justice  of  the  argu- 
ment, Avhich  infers  the  peril  of  neglect 
from  the  greatness  of  salvation.  We 
proceed  to  observe  that  salvation  is 
great,  not  more  because  of  the  great- 
ness of  the  Agent  by  whom  it  was 
achieved,  than  of  Him  by  whom  it  is 
applied.  The  personal  presence  of  the 
Redeemer  with  his  church  was  un- 
doubtedly a  privilege  and  blessing  sur- 
passing our  power  to  estimate.  Yet, 
forasmuch  as  the  descent  of  the  Spirit 
could  not  take  place  without  his  own 
departure  from  earth,  Christ  assured 
his  disciples  that  it  was  expedient  for 
them  that  he  should  go  away  ;  thus 
implying  it  to  be  more  for  their  benefit 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  should  come  down, 
than  that  himself  should  remain.  And 
if,  therefore,  it  give  greatness  to  sal- 
vation that  it  was  effected  by  the  Son, 
it  must  give  as  much  that  it  is  applied 
by  the  Spirit.  That  a  person  of  the 
ever-blessed  Trinity — that  energizing 
Agent  who  is  described  as  brooding 
over  the  waters,  when  creation  had 
not  yet  been  moulded  into  symmetry, 
that  He  might  extract  order  from  con- 
fusion— that  this  being  should  continu- 
ally reside  upon  earth,  on  purpose  that 
he  may  act  on  the  consciences  and 
hearts  of  mankind  through  the  Gospel 
of  Christ :  we  say  of  this,  that  ii  gives 
to  our  salvation  the  perpetual  majesty 
of  Divinity,  an  awfulness  scarce  infe- 
rior to  that  which  it  derives  from  the 
sacrifice  of  the  Son.  The  presence  of 
the  Spirit  with  the  church,  a  presence 
so  actual  and  universal  that  the  heart 
of  each  amongst  us  is  the  scene  of  his 
operations,  and  the  truth  of  our  re- 
demption through  Christ  is  that  which 
he  strives  to  bring  home  to  our  affec- 
tions,— this  assuredly  stamps  a  great- 
ness on  the  arrangements  for  deliver- 
ance, only  to  be  measured  when  we 
can  measure  God  himself. 

But,  if  it  gives  greatness  to  salvation 


that  it  is  applied  by  the  Spirit,  who  can 
fail  to  perceive  that  from  the  greatness 
may  be  learned  the  peril  of  neglect  i 
We  are  certain  of  every  one  amongst 
you  who  neglects  salvation,  that  he 
withstands  the  suggestions  and  striv- 
ings of  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God. 
We  know  that  there  is  not  one  of  you, 
the  most  indifferent  and  careless  in  re- 
gard to  the  threatenings  and  promises 
of  the  Gospel,  who  has  not  had  to  fight 
his  way  to  his  present  insensibility 
against  the  powerful  remonstrances  of 
an  invisible  monitor,  and  who  is  not 
often  compelled,  in  order  to  the  keep- 
ing himself  from  alarm  and  anxiety,  to 
crush,  with  a  sudden  and  desperate 
violence,  pleadings  which  are  fraught 
with  super-human  energy.  We  know 
this.  We  want  no  lajnng  bare  of  your 
secret  experience  in  order  to  our  as- 
certaining this.  We  need  no  confes- 
sions to  inform  us  that  you  have  some 
little  trouble  in  destroying  yourselves. 
The  young  amongst  you,  whose  rod  is 
pleasure  and  whose  home  the  world, 
we  would  not  believe  them  if  they 
assured  us,  that  they  never  know  any 
kind  of  mental  uneasiness ;  that  never 
when  in  a  crowd,  never  when  alone,  do 
they  hear  the  whisperings  of  a  voice 
which  tells  them  of  moral  danger  ;  that 
they  have  never  difficulty,  when  told  of 
the  death  of  an  associate,  or  when  they 
meet  a  funeral,  or  when  laid  on  a  sick- 
bed, in  repressing  all  fear,  all  consci- 
ousness of  a  necessity  for  a  thorough 
change  of  conduct.  We  would  not  be- 
lieve them,  we  say,  if  they  assured  us 
of  this.  We  know  better.  We  know 
them  the  possessors  of  a  conscience. 
We  know  them  acted  on  by  the  Spirit 
of  the  Almighty.  We  know  "them  im- 
mortal, sons  and  daughters  of  eternity, 
however  they  may  endeavor  to  live  as 
though  death  were  annihilation.  And 
therefore  we  would  not  believe  them. 
Oh,  no.  As  soon  believe  the  rock,  were 
it  gifted  with  speech,  which  should  ar- 
gue, that,  because  unsoftened,  it  was 
never  shone  on  by  the  sun,  and  never 
swept  by  the  winds,  and  never  dashed 
by  the  waters,  as  the  granite  of  the 
heart,  which,  because  yet  insensible, 
would  deny  that  an  unseen  hand  ever 
smote  it,  or  celestial  dews  ever  fell 
on  it,  or  divine  beams  strove  to  pene- 
trate it.  J 
No,  w'e  cannot  believe  you  when  you     I 


ARGUMENT    FOR    THE    PERIL    OF    ITS    NEGLECT. 


187 


would  tell  us  that  you  are  let  alone  by 
God.  Again  we  reply  that  we  know 
better.  We  know  that  the  young  man, 
who  is  the  slave  of  his  passions,  has 
often  a  misgiving  that  his  tyrants  here 
will  be  his  tormentors  hereafter.  We 
know  that  the  young  woman,  Avhose 
deity  is  dress,  is  sometimes  startled 
by  the  thought  of  the  shroud  and  the 
winding-sheet.  We  know  that  the  mer- 
chantman, laboring  to  be  rich,  is  now 
and  then  aghast  with  fear  of  being  poor 
through  eternity.  We  know  that  the 
shrewd  man,  too  cunning  to  be  duped 
by  any  but  himself,  has  moments  in 
which  he  feels,  that,  in  the  greatest 
of  all  transactions,  he  may  perhaps  be 
over-reached,  and  barter  the  everlast- 
ing for  the  perishable.  We  know  that 
the  proud  man,  moving  in  a  region  of 
his  own,  and  flushed  with  the  thought 
how  many  are  beneath  him,  is;  occa- 
sionally startled  by  a  vision  of  utter 
degradation,  himself  in  infamy,  and 
"How  art  thou  fallen!"  breathed  a 
gainst  him  by  the  vilest.  We  know 
that  those  who  neglect  means  of  grace, 
who,  when  invited  to  the  Lord's  table, 
continually  refuse — we  know,  that,  as 
they  turn  their  back  on  the  ordinance, 
they  do  violence  to  a  secret  remon- 
strance, and  feel,  if  only  for  an  instant, 
(oh,  how  easy,  by  the  resistance  of  an 
instant,  to  endanger  their  eternity !) 
that  they  are  rejecting  aprivilege  which 
will  rise  against  them  as  an  accuser. 
We  know  all  this,  and  we  cannot  be- 
Jieve  you  when  you  would  tell  us  that 
you  are  let  alone  by  God.  You  are  not 
let  alone.  You  are  acted  on  through 
the  machinery  of  conscience.  You 
may  have  done  your  best  towards  mas- 
tering and  exterminating  conscience, 
but  you  have  not  yet  quite  succeeded. 
There  is  Divinity  in  the  monitor,  and 
it  will  not  be  overborne.  We  know  that 
you  are  not  let  alone  :  for  the  salva- 
tion which  we  press  on  your  accept- 
ance is  a  great  salvation  ;  and  in  no- 
thing is  this  greatness  more  apparent 
than  in  the  fact,  that  the  Spirit  of  the 
Almighty  is  occupied  with  commend- 
ing this  salvation  to  sinners,  and  com- 
bating their  prejudices,  and  urging 
them  to  accept.  It  is  indeed  a  marvel- 
lous greatness,  that  Omnipotence  it- 
self should  not  be  more  engaged  with 
upholding  the  universe,  and  actuating 
the  motions  of  unnumbered  systems, 


and  sustaining  the  animation  of  every 
living  thing,  from  the  archangel  down 
to  the  insect,  than  with  plying  trans- 
gressors with  all  the  motives  which 
are  laid  sup  in  the  Gospel,  admonish- 
ing them  by  the  agony,  and  the  pas- 
sion, and  the  death  of  a  Mediator,  and 
warning  them  by  the  terrors,  as  well 
as  inviting  them  by  the  mercies,  of 
the  cross.  It  is  a  marvellous  great- 
ness. But  if  you  remain  the  indifi'erent 
and  unbelieving,  this  greatness  only 
proves  that  you  are  not  to  be  over- 
come by  the  strongest  power  which 
can  be  brought  to  bear  on  our  nature; 
proves  that  an  agency,  than  which  none 
is  mightier,  has  wrestled  with  you,  and 
striven  with  you,  but  as  yet  all  in  vain  ; 
proves  therefore  the  certainty  of  your 
destruction,  if  you  persist  in  your  care- 
lessness, because  it  proves,  that,  hav- 
ing withstood  the  most  potent  means, 
there  can  be  none  to  which  you  will 
yield  :  and  what  is  this  but  proving  the 
peril  of  neglect  from  the  greatness  of 
salvation  1  what  is  this,  since  the  great- 
ness of  salvation  depends  much  on  the 
greatness  of  the  being  who  applies  it, 
what  is  this  but  asking,  "How  shall 
we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so  great  sal- 
vation 1" 

But  we  have  yet  another  mode  in 
which  to  exhibit  the  same  truth ;  to 
show,  that  is,  that  the  greatness  of  sal- 
vation proves  the  impossibility  that 
they  who  neglect  it  should  escape.  We 
are  bound  to  regard  the  Gospel  of 
Christ  Jesus  as  the  grand  revelation  of 
future  punishment  and  reward.  Until 
the  Redeemer  appeared,  and  brought 
men  direct  tidings  from  the  invisible 
world,  the  sanctions  of  eternity  were 
scarcely  at  all  made  to  bear  on  the  oc- 
cupations of  Time.  It  cannot  indeed  be 
said  that  Christ  first  taught  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul ;  for  from  the  begin- 
ning the  soul  was  her  own  witness, 
though  oftentimes  the  testimony  was 
inadequately  given,  that  she  perished 
not  with  the  body.  Yet  so  imperfect 
had  been  the  foregoing  knowledge,  as 
compared  with  that  communicated  by 
Christ,  that  St.  Paul  declares  of  the 
Savior,  that  he  "abolished  death,  and 
brought  life  and  immortality  to  light 
by  the  Gospel."  In  the  teachings  of 
the  Mediator  we  have  such  clear  infor- 
mation as  to  our  living  under  a  retri- 
butive government,  that  ignorance  can 


188 


THE    GREATNESS    OF    SALVATION    AN 


be  no  man's  excuse,  if  he  act  as  though 
God  toolc  no  note  of  his  conduct.  And 
we  reckon  that  much  of  the  greatness 
of  the  Gospel  consists  in  the  greatness 
of  the  reward  which  it  proposes  to 
righteousness,  and  the  greatness  of  the 
punishment  which  it  denounces  on  im- 
penitence. It  is  a  great  salvation,  if 
on  the  alternative  of  its  rejection,  or 
acceptance,  hinges  another  alternative, 
that  of  everlasting  misery  or  everlast- 
ing happiness.  The  characteristic  of 
great  may  most  justly  be  ascribed  to  a 
system,  whose  sanctions  are  of  so  sub- 
lime and  awful  a  description,  which 
animates  to  self-denial  by  the  promise 
of  a  heaven  where  "  there  is  fulness  of 
joy  for  evermore,"  and  warns  back 
from  wickedness  by  the  threatening 
of  a  worm  that  never  dies,  and  a  fire 
that  is  not  quenched.  It  was  not  re- 
demption from  mere  temporary  evil 
that  Christ  Jesus  effected.  The  conse- 
quences of  transgression  spread  them- 
selves through  eternity  ;  and  the  Sa- 
vior, when  he  bowed  his  head  and  said, 
"  It  is  finished,"  had  provided  for  the 
removal  of  these  consequences,,  in  all 
the  immenseness  whether  of  their  ex- 
tent or  their  duration.  And  we  say  that 
in  nothing  is  the  greatness  of  salvation 
more  evidenced  than  in  its  dealing 
with  everlasting  things:  it  did  not  in- 
deed make  man  immortal  ;  but,  finding 
him  immortal,  and  his  immortality  one 
of  agony  and  shame,  it  sent  its  influ- 
ences throughout  this  unlimited  exist- 
ence, wrung  the  curse  from  its  every 
instant,  and  left  a  blessing  in  its  stead. 
Exceeding  great  is  our  salvation  in 
this,  that  it  opens  a  prospect  for  eter- 
nity than  Avhich  imagination  can  con- 
ceive none  more  brilliant,  if  we  close 
with  the  proffer,  and  none  more  appal- 
ling, if  we  refuse. 

But  if  this  be  its  greatness,  what 
does  the  greatness  prove  of  those  by 
whom  it  is  neglected  1  In  order  to  your 
being  animated  to  the  throwing  off  the 
tyranny  of  the  things  of  time  and  sense, 
the  Gospel  sets  before  you  an  array  of 
motive,  concerning  which  it  is  no  bold- 
ness to  say,  that,  if  ineffective,  it  is  be- 
cause you  are  immovable.  If  heaven 
fail  to  attract,  and  hell  to  alarm — the 
\jeaven  and  the  hell  which  are  opened 
to  us  in  the  revelation  of  Christ — it 
can  only  be  from  a  set  determination  to 
continue  in  sin,  a  determination,  proof 


against  all  by  which,  as  rational  agents, 
we  are  capable  of  being  influenced.  If 
you  could  be  excited  by  reward,  i» 
there  not  enough  in  heaven;  if  you 
could  be  deterred  by  punishment,  is 
there  not  enough  in  hell  \ 

What,  will  you  tell  me  that  you  can 
be  roused,  that  your  insensibility  is  not 
such  as  it  is  impossible  to  overcome, 
or  rather,  that  your  choice  is  not  so 
fixed  but  that  it  might  be  swayed  by 
adequate  inducement,  when  you  will 
not  resign  a  bauble  which  stands  in 
competition  with  heaven,  nor  deny  an 
appetite  for  the  sake  of  escaping  hell  1 
Is  it  that  heaven  is  not  sufficiently  glo- 
rious ;  is  it  that  hell  is  not  sufficiently 
terrible  1  We  can  admit  no  plea  from 
deficiencies  in  the  proposed  punish- 
ment or  reward.  Indeed  there  can  be 
none  of  you  bold  enough  to  urge  it. 
The  man  whom  heaven  cannot  allure 
from  sin,  the  man  whom  hell  cannot 
scare  from  sin,  would  a  brighter  hea- 
ven (if  such  there  could  be,)  or  a  fiercer 
hell,  prevail  with  him  to  attempt  the 
overcoming  corruption  1  Oh,  the  sal- 
vation is  great,  greater  in  nothing  than 
in  the  reward  and  punishment  which  it 
propounds  to  mankind  ;  for  of  both  it 
may  be  said,  that  "eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  in- 
to the  heart  of  man."  But  then,  being 
thus  great,  its  greatness  is  our  proof 
that  there  is  no  hope  of  moving  those 
whom  it  moves  not.  The  happiness 
promised  to  obedience,  there  can  be 
imagined  none  richer  ;  the  wretched- 
ness threatened  to  disobedience,  there 
can  be  imagined  none  sterner.  And  yet 
the  man  is  unaffected.  He  is  not  at- 
tracted by  the  happiness — then  I  must 
despair  of  attracting  him.  He  is  not 
alarmed  by  the  wretchedness — then  I 
must  despair  of  alarming  him.  And, 
therefore,  it  is  the  greatness  of  the  sal- 
vation which  shows  me  his  peril.  Yea, 
as  this  greatness  is  demonstrated  by 
the  proposition  of  everlasting  portions, 
not  to  be  exceeded  in  the  intenseness 
Avhether  of  joy  or  of  wo,  and  which 
therefore  leave  no  inducement  untried 
by  which  the  careless  may  be  roused, 
and  the  sensual  braced  to  self-denial, 
we  seem  to  hear  this  question  reverbe- 
rated alike  from  the  firmament  above 
with  its  homes  for  the  righteous,  and 
from  the  abyss  beneath  with  its  pri- 
sons for  the  lost,  "  Hov/  shall  we    es- 


ABGUMENT    FOR    THE    PERIL    OF    ITS    NEGLECT. 


189 


cape,  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation  V 
Such,  brethren,  are  certain  of  the 
reasons — and,  had  time  permitted, 
we  might  have  adduced  more — which 
prove  the  connection  between,  the 
greatness  of  salvation,  and  the  peril 
of  neglect.  And  now  we  ask  the  care- 
less and  the  worldly-minded  amongst 
you,  whether  they  have  an  answer  to 
give  to  the  solemn  question  before  us. 
The  demand  is,  "  How  shall  we  es- 
cape 1"  You  must  undoubtedly  have 
some  reply  in  readiness.  We  have  no 
right  to  accuse  you  of  the  incalculable 
folly  of  owning  that  there  is  only  one 
way  of  escape  from  the  most  terrible 
judgments,  and  yet  taking  no  heed  to 
walk  in  that  way.  You  are  furnished 
then  with  a  reply  :  we  will  not  charge 
you  with  a  want  of  common  sense  :  we 
must  allow  you  the  credit  of  having  a 
reasoa  to  give  for  destroying  your- 
selves. But  we  should  like  to  know 
the  reason.  We  can  hardly  imagine  its 
form.  Perhaps  you  intend  to  pay  at- 
tention to  the  Gospel  hereafter.  But 
no,  this  is  no  reason  for  neglect.  This 
confesses  the  necessity  of  giving  heed  ; 
and  therefore  proves  you  more  than 
ever  culpable  in  your  negligence.  Per- 
haps you  contend  that  you  quite  admit 
all  the  claims  of  the  Gospel ;  that  you 
are  amongst  those  who  receive  it,  not 
those  who  reject;  and  that  you  know 
not  why  it  should  condemn  you,  since 
you  give  it  heartily  the  preference  to 
every  other  religion.  But  no,  this  is  no 
apology.  It  might  be  plausible,  if  the 
question  were.  How  shall  we  escape,  if 
we  disbelieve,  deny,  ridicule,  oppose, 
so  great  salvation!  but  oh,  sirs,  it  is, 


''  How  shall  we  escape  if  we  neglect  ?" 
To  neglect,  just  to  treat  with  coldness 
or  carelessness,  to  give  attention  to 
other  things  in  preference,  not  the  be- 
ing the  openly  infidel,  but  the  actually 
indifferent ;  this  it  is  which,  if  there 
be  truth  in  our  text,  insures  man's  de- 
struction. 

And  therefore  we  again  say  that  we 
cannot  imagine  the  answer  with  which, 
thinking  calculating  beings  as  ye  are, 
you  would  parry  the  home-question  of 
our  text.  But  of  this  we  can  be  certain, 
that  your  answer  has  no  worth.  The 
question  of  the  apostle  is  the  strongest 
form  of  denial.  Ye  cannot  escape  if  ye 
neglect.  And  be  ye  well  assured,  that, 
if  ye  could  interrogate  the  spirits  in 
wretchedness,  negligence  would  be  that 
which  they  would  chiefly  give  as  the 
cause  of  their  ruin.  There  would  be 
comparatively  few  who  would  tell  you 
they  had  rejected  Christianity ;  few  that 
they  had  embraced  deistical  views  ;  few 
that  they  had  invented  for  themselves 
another  mode  of  acceptance  ;  but  the 
many,  the  many,  their  tale  would  be, 
that  they  designed,  but  delayed  to  heark- 
en to  the  Gospel ;  that  they  gave  it 
their  assent,  but  not  their  attention  ; 
that, — are  ye  not  staggered  by  the 
likeness  to  yourselves] — though  they 
knew,  they  did  not  consider;  apprised 
of  danger,  they  took  no  pains  to  avert 
it ;  having  the  offer  of  life,  they  made 
no  effort  to  secure  it ;  and  therefore 
perished,  finally,  miserably,  everlast- 
ingly, through  neglect  of  the  great  sal- 
vation. God  grant  that  none  of  us,  by 
imitating  their  neglect,  share  their 
misery. 


190 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OP    CONSIDERATIOK. 


SERMON. 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDERATION.* 


"  Whon  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of  Him." — Job,  23  :  15. 


In  this  chapter  Job  declares,  in  lan- 
guage of  great  sublimity,  the  unsearch- 
ableness  of  God.  "  Behold,  I  go  for- 
ward, but  he  is  not  there,  and  back- 
ward, but  I  cannot  perceive  him  ;  on 
the  left  hand  where  he  doth  work,  but 
I  cannot  behold  him  ;  he  hideth  him- 
self on  the  right  hand,  that  I  cannot  see 
him."  Vexed  with  many  and  sore  trials, 
the  patriarch  vainly  strove  to  under- 
stand God's  dealings,  and,  though  still 
holding  fast  his  integrity,  was  almost 
tempted  to  doubt  whether  he  should 
escape  from  his  troubles.  He  dwells 
on  the  immutability  of  God  ;  and,  think- 
ing that  possibly  this  immutability  is 
eng'ag'ed  to  the  continuance  of  his  sor- 
rows,  only  heightens  his  anxieties  by 
pondering  the  unchangeableness  of  God. 
''  He  is  in  one  mind,  and  who  can  turn 
himl  and  what  his  soul  desireth,  even 
that  he  doeth."  If  there  had  gone  out 
a  decree  against  him,  appointing  ca- 
lamity to  be  his  portion,  Job  felt  that 
deliverance  was  not  to  be  hoped  for. 
''  Therefore,"  saith  he,  "I  am  troubled 
at  his  presence ;  when  I  consider,  I 
am  afraid  of  him." 

It  was  not,  you  observe,  a  hasty 
glance  at  the  character  of  God,  which 
gave  rise  to  the  fear  which  the  patri- 
arch expresses.  His  fear  was  the  re- 
sult of  deep  meditation,  and  not  of  a 
cursory  thought.  "  When  I  consider, 
I  am  afraid  of  him."  The  cursory 
thought  might  have  included  nothing 
but  the  benevolence  of  God,  and  thus 
have  induced  the  sufferer  to  expect  re- 
lief from  his  woes.  But  the  deep  medi- 
tation brought  under  review  many  at- 
tributes of  the  Almighty,  and  there  was 

•  A  collection  was  made  after  this  sermon,  in 
support  of  the  Irish  Society  of  London. 


much  in  these  attributes  to  perplex  and 
discourage. 

It  may  indeed    have   been  only  the 
unchangeableness  of   God,  which,  en- 
gaging the  consideration,  excited  the 
fears  of  the  patriarch.    But  we  are  not 
bound,  in  discoursing  on   our  text,  to 
limit  to  one  attribute  this  effect  of  con- 
sideration. There  is  the  statement  of  a 
general  truth,  though,  in  the  case  be- 
fore us,  the  application  may  have  been 
particular.     That  the  fear,  or  dread,  of 
God  is  the  produce  of  consideration  ; 
that  it  does  not  therefore  spring  from 
ignorance,  or  want  of  thought  ;  this  is 
the  general  truth  asserted  by  the  pas- 
sage, and  which,  as  accurately  distin- 
guishing religion  from  superstition,  de- 
mands the  best  of  our  attention.     It  is 
not  to  be  doubted  that  a  superstitious 
dread  of  a  Supreme  Being  is  to  be  over- 
come by  consideration  ;  and  it  is  as  lit- 
tle to  be  doubted  that  a  religious  dread 
is  to  be  produced  by  consideration.  The 
man  who  has  thrown  oft  all  fear  of  God, 
is  the  man  in  whose  thoughts  God  finds 
little  or  no  place.    If  you  could  fasten, 
for  a  while,  this  man's  mind  to  the  facts, 
that  there  is  a  God,  that  he  takes  cog- 
nizance of  human  actions  as  moral  Go- 
vernor of  the  universe,  and  that  he  will 
hereafter  deal  with  us  by  the  laws  of  a 
most  rigid  retribution,  you  would  pro- 
duce something  like  a  dread  of  the  Cre- 
ator ;   and  this  dread  would  be  super- 
stitious or  religious,  according  to  the 
falseness,  or  soundness,  of   principles 
admitted  and    inferences  deduced.    If 
the  produced  dread  were  superstitious, 
it  would  give  way  on  a  due  considera- 
tion of  these  principles  and  inferences  ; 
if  religious,  such  consideration  would 
only  deepen  and  strengthen  it. 

We  are  sure  that  the  absence  of  con 


i 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION. 


191 


sideration  is  the  only  account  which 
can  be  giv^en  of  the  absence  of  a  fear 
of  the  Almighty.  It  is  not,  and  it  can- 
not be,  by  any  process  of  thought,  or 
mental  debate,  that  the  great  mass  of 
our  fellow-men  work  themselves  into  a 
kind  of  practical  atheism.  It  is  by  keep- 
ing God  out  of  their  thoughts,  or  allow- 
ing him  nothing  more  than  the  homage 
of  a  faint  and  passing  remembrance, 
that  they  contrive  to  preserve  that  sur- 
prising indifference,  which  would  al- 
most seem  to  argue  disbelief  of  his  ex- 
istence. And  there  is  not  one  in  this 
assembly,  whatever  may  be  his  uncon- 
cern as  to  his  position  relatively  to  his 
Maker,  and  whatever  his  success  in  ba- 
nishing from  his  mind  the  consequences 
of  a  life  of  misdoing,  in  regard  of  whom 
we  have  other  than  a  thorough  persua- 
sion, that,  if  we  could  make  him  con- 
sider, we  should  also  make  him  fear. 
It  is  not  that  men  are  ignorant  of 
facts  ;  it  is  that  they  will  not  give  their 
attention  to  facts.  They  know  a  vast 
deal  which  they  do  not  consider.  You 
cannot  be  observant  of  what  passes 
around  you,  or  within  yourselves,  and 
fail  to  perceive  how  useless  is  a  large 
amount  of  knowledge,  and  that  too 
simply  through  want  of  consideration. 
To  borrow  the  illustration  of  a  distin- 
guished writer,  who  has  so  treated  as 
almost  to  have  exhausted  this  subject, 
every  one  knows  that  he  must  die;  and 
yet  the  certainty  of  death  produces  no 
effect  on  the  bulk  of  mankind.  It  is  a 
thing  known,  it  is  not  a  thing  consider- 
ed ;  and  therefore  those  who  are  sure 
that  they  are  mortal,  live  as  though 
sure  they  were  immortal.  Every  one 
of  you  knows  that  there  is  a  judgment 


are  hundreds  who  have  knowledge  for 
one  who  has  consideration.  We  must 
all  perceive  how  frequent  it  is  for  truths 
to  receive  the  assent  of  the  understand- 
ing, and  gain  a  lodgment  in  the  memo- 
ry ;  and  yet,  though  they  may  be  of 
stirring  moment,  to  exert  no  influence 
on  the  conduct*  If  as  fast  as  we  gather 
information  into  the  clrambers  of  the 
mind,  we  were  also  gathering  motive 
into  the  recesses  of  the  soul,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  each  page  of  Scripture,  as  we 
possessed  ourselves  of  its  announce- 
ments, would  minister  to  our  earnest- 
ness in  wrestling  for  immortality.  But 
the  melancholy  fact  is,  that  we  may, 
and  that  we  do,  increase  the  amount 
of  information,  without  practically  in- 
creasing the  amount  of  motive.  It  is 
quite  supposable  that  there  are  some 
amongst  yourselves,  who,  by  a  regular 
attendance  on  Sabbath  ministrations, 
and  by  diligent  study  of  the  Bible,  have 
acquired  no  inconsiderable  acquaint- 
ance with  the  scheme  and  bearings  of 
Christianity ;  but  who  are  nevertheless 
as  worldly-minded,  in  spite  of  their  the- 
ology, as  though  ignorant  of  the  grand 
truths  disclosed  by  revelation.  We 
might  subject  these  persons  to  a  strict 
examination,  and  try  them  in  the  seve- 
ral departments  of  divinity.  And  they 
might  come  off  from  the  scrutiny  with 
the  greatest  applause,  and  be  pronoun- 
ced admirably  conversant  with  the 
truths  of  the  Bible.  But  of  all  the 
knowledge  thus  displayed,  there  might 
not  be  a  particle  which  wielded  any  in- 
fluence over  actions.  The  whole  might 
be  reposing  inertly  in  the  solitudes  of 
the  memory,  ready  indeed  to  be  sum- 
moned forth  when  its  possessor  is  call- 


10  come.    But  may  we  not  fear  of  num-  I  ed  into  some  arena  of  controversy,  but 


bers  amongst  you,  that  they  do  not  con- 
sider that  there  is  a  judgment  to  come  ; 
and  may  we  not  ascribe  to  their  not 
considering  what  they  know,  their  per- 
sisting in  conduct  which  must  unavoid- 
ably issue  in  utter  condemnation'? 

We  might  multiply  this  kind  of  illus- 
tration. But  the  fact  is  so  apparent,  the 
fact  of  knowledge  being  useless  be- 
cause the  thing  known  is  not  consider- 
ed, that  it  were  but  wasting  time  to 
employ  it  on  its  proof.  We  may  sup- 
pose that  we  carry  with  us  the  assent 
of  every  hearer,  when  we  say,  that, 
even  in  reference  to  the  things  of  this 
life,  and  much  more  of  the  next,  there 


no  more  woven  into  the  business  of 
every-day  life,  than  if  it  were  know- 
ledge of  facts  which  are  unimportant, 
or  of  truths  which  are  speculative. 
And  the  main  reason  of  this  has  been 
already  advanced,  the  want  of  consider- 
ation. You  know  there  is  a  God  ;  but 
you  do  not  fear  this  God,  you  do  not 
live  under  a  sense  of  his  presence  and 
an  apprehension  of  his  wrath,  because 
you  do  not  consider  that  there  is  a 
God. 

And  we  wish  it  well  observed  that 
man  is  answerable  for  this  want  of  con- 
sideration, inasmuch  as  it  is  voluntary, 
and    not  unavoidable.     We    certainly 


192 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF   CONSIDERATION. 


have  it  in  our  power,  not  only  to  apply 
ourselves  to  the  acquisition  of  know- 
ledge, but,  when  the  knowledge  has 
been  acquired,  to  direct  the  attention 
to  the  tendencies  of  the  ascertained 
truths.  If  this  be  done,  there  is  every 
likelihood  that  the  truths  will  produce 
their  right  effects  on"  the  moral  feel- 
ings;  if  this  be  neglected,  the  almost 
certainty  is,  that,  whatever  their  na- 
ture, they  will  not  call  forth  those 
emotions  which  they  are  both  intended 
and  calculated  to  excite.  The  truths  of 
revelation  are  adapted,  according  to 
the  constitution  of  our  moral  capaci- 
ty, to  rouse  within  us  certain  feelings. 
And  by  fixing  the  mind  on  these  truths, 
when  investigated  and  determined — 
and  this  is  adding  consideration  to 
knowledge — we  may  be  said  compara- 
tively to  insure  the  production  of  the 
feelings  which  naturally  correspond  to 
them,  and  thus  vastly  to  diminish,  if 
not  to  destroy,  the  probability  that 
they  will  fail  of  effecting  any  change 
in  the  conduct. 

You  know  sufficiently  w^ll,  that,  if 
you  obtain  a  knowledge  of  circumstan- 
ces which  may  exert  an  influence  over 
your  temporal  condition,  you  can,  and 
in  most  cases  you  do,  give  those  cir- 
cumstances your  close  consideration, 
and  ponder  them  with  unwearied  assi- 
duousness, in  hopes  of  extracting  some 
directions  for  your  guidance  in  life. 
And  if  you  were  to  fail  to  add  consid- 
eration to  knowledge,  you  would  fairly 
be  regarded  as  the  authors  of  every  dis- 
aster which  might  follov/  on  your  not 
turning  knowledge  to  account ;  and 
the  bankruptcy,  in  which  you  might  be 
speedily  involved,  would  excite  no  com- 
miseration, as  being  altogether  charge- 
able on  your  own  indolence  and  indif- 
ference. So  that,  if  you  have  know- 
ledge, it  is  reckoned  quite  your  own 
fault,  if  it  rest  inertly  in  the  mind,  in 
place  of  stirring  up  emotions  and  re- 
gulating energies.  Your  fellow-men 
deal  with  you  as  with  free  agents,  pos- 
sessing the  power  of  considering  what 
they  know,  and  therefore  answerable 
for  all  the  consequences  of  a  want  of 
consideration. 

And  what  we  wished  impressed  upon 
you  at  this  stage  of  our  discourse  is, 
that  you  must  expect  the  same  dealing 
at  the  tribunal  of  the  Almighty,  as  you 
thus  experience  at  the  hands  of  your 


fellow-men.  If  it  be  once  shown  that 
you  had  the  knowledge,  you  will  be 
tried  as  beings  who  might  have  had 
the  consideration.  To  recur  to  our  il- 
lustration— you  have  a  thorough  know- 
ledge that  you  must  die.  There  passes 
not  a  day  which  does  not,  in  some  shape 
or  other,  present  this  fact  to  your  ob- 
servation, and  call  upon  you,  by  em- 
phatic demonstrations  of  human  mor- 
tality, to  acknowledge  your  own  frailty. 
Ye  cannot  be  so  sure  that  any  combi- 
nation of  circumstances  will  issue  in 
the  derangement  and  bankruptcy  of 
your  affairs,  as  ye  are,  that,  at  a  period 
which  cannot  be  very  distant,  ye  will 
be  withdrawn  altogether  from  these  af- 
fairs, and  ushered  into  an  untried  ex- 
istence. And  if,  because  you  have  not 
fastened  attention  upon  circumstances 
which  threaten  you  with  temporal  ca- 
lamity, you  are  reckoned  as  having 
only  yourselves  to  blame  when  that  ca- 
lamity bursts,  like  an  armed  man,  into 
your  households,  assuredly  you  must 
hereafter  be  treated  as  your  own  wil- 
ful destroyers'  if  you  make  no  prepa- 
ration for  that  dreaded  visitant  whom 
no  force  can  repulse,  and  no  bribe  al- 
lure, from  your  doors.  We  admit  that 
much  has  been  taught,  and  boasted,  in 
respect  to  the  free-agency  of  man, 
which  will  no  more  bear  the  test  of 
experience  than  of  Scripture.  But  we 
cannot  doubt  that  man  is  sufficiently 
a  free  agent  to  make  the  path  of 
death,  in  which  he  walks,  the  path  of 
his  own  choice;  so  that,  just  as  he  is 
free  to  consider  Avhat  he  knows  in  re- 
ference to  the  matters  of  this  life,  so  is 
he  free  to  consider  what  he  knows  in 
reference  to  the  matters  of  the  next 
life. 

And  Ave  give  it  you  all  as  a  warning, 
whose  energy  increases  with  your  ac- 
quaintance with  the  truths  of  revela- 
tion, that  God  has  gifted  you  with  an 
apparatus  of  moral  feelings,  to  the  ex- 
citement of  which  the  announcements 
of  Scripture  are  most  nicely  adapted  ; 
and  has  thus  so  fitted  the  Bible  to  your 
constitution,  that,  if  the  Bible  be 
known,  and  you  unconcerned,  there 
is  evidence  of  wilful  indifference,  or 
determined  opposition,  which  will  sul- 
fice  for  procuring  condemnation  at  the 
judgment.  The  fact  that  we  must  give 
account  hereafter  for  every  action,  is, 
of  all  others,  fitted  to  serve  as  a  lever 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDEKATION. 


193 


r\-hlch  may  raise  into  activity  tlie  pow- 
ers of  the  inner  man.  But  tiien  it  is 
consideration,  and  not  mere  know- 
ledge, of  sucli  fact  which  converts  it 
into  the  lever.  Knowledge  only  intro- 
duces it  into  the  mind.  But  when  intro- 
duced, it  will  lie  there  idle  and  power- 
less, unless  taken  up  and  handled  by 
consideration.  And  forasmuch  as  you 
have  full  power  of  giving  consideration 
to  the  fact — for  you  can  give  your  con- 
sideration to  a  fact  of  astronomy,  or  of 
chemistrjr;  and  therefore  also,  if  you 
choose,  to  a  fact  of  theology — you  are 
clearly  answerable  for  the  inefi'ective- 
ness  of  the  fact,  if  it  never  move  the 
torpid  energies ;  and  can  expect  no- 
thing but  the  being  condemned  at  last, 
as  having  known,  but  not  having  con- 
sidered. 

But  we  have  somewhat  wandered 
from  our  text  :  at  least,  we  have  dwelt 
generally  on  the  want  of  consideration, 
in  place  of  confining  ourselves  to  the 
instance  which  the  passage  exhibits. 
We  go  back  to  our  proposition,  that  a 
fear  of  God  will  be  the  result  of  con- 
sidering :  "  when  I  consider,  I  am  afraid 
of  him." 

It  is  our  earnest  wish  to  bring  the 
careless  amongst  you,  those  who  have 
no  dread  of  God,  to  a  sense  of  the  aw- 
fulnessof  that  mysterious  Being,  whose 
existence  indeed  you  confess,  but  of 
whom,  notwithstanding,  your  whole 
life  is  one  perpetual  defiance.  Your 
fault  is,  that,  immersing  yourselves  in 
the  business  or  pleasures  of  the  world, 
you  never  sit  down  to  a  serious  con- 
templation of  your  state  :  in  other 
words,  that,  however  intently  you  fas- 
ten your  thoughts  on  vain  and  perish- 
able objects,  yet,  as  creatures  Avho  are 
just  in  the  infancy  of  existence,  you 
never  consider.  And  we  have  but  little 
hope  of  prevailing  on  you,  by  any  ur- 
gency of  remonstrance,  to  give  your- 
selves to  "the  considering  what  you 
know.  We  are  too  well  aware  that  the 
prevailing  on  a  man  to  consider  his 
ways  lies  far  beyond  the  power  of  hu- 
man persuasion  ;  seeing  that  the  mind 
can  evade  all  external  control,  and,  if 
it  do  not  bind  itself,  can  defy  every  at- 
tempt to  overrule  or  direct.  But  we 
can  give  you  certain  of  those  process- 
es of  thought  which  would  almost  ne- 
cessarily be  followed  out,  where  there 
Avere  deep  and  solemn  musings  upon 


Deity.  We  may  thus  trace  the  connec- 
tion asserted  m  our  text  between  con- 
sideration and  fear.  Though  this  will 
not  compel  you  to  consider  for  your- 
selves, it  will  leave  you  with  less  ex- 
cuse than  ever  if  you  rest  content  with 
mere  knowledge ;  it  will  show  you 
what  ought  to  be  going  forward  in 
your  own  minds,  and  thus  take  away 
the  plea  of  ignorance,  if  any  should  be 
hardy  enough  to  advance  it. 

With  this  object,  we  will  examine 
how  fear  of  God  is  produced  by  con- 
sidering what  we  know  of  God,  lirst  in 
his  nature,  and  secondly  in  his  works. 

Now  we  are  ail  aware  how  power- 
ful a  restraint  is  imposed  on  the  most 
dissolute  and  profane,  by  the  presence 
of  an  individual  who  will  not  counte- 
nance them  in  their  impieties.  So  long 
as  they  are  under  observation,  they  will 
not  dare  to  yield  to  imperious  desires  : 
they  must  shrink  into  a  solitude  ere 
they  will  perpetrate  crime,  or  give  in- 
dulgence to  lusts.  We  can  feel  confi- 
dent in  respect  of  the  most  worldly- 
minded  amongst  you,  that,  if  there 
could  be  always  at  his  side  an  indivi- 
dual of  whom  he  stood  in  awe,  and 
whose  good  opinion  he  was  anxious 
to  cultivate,  he  would  abstain  from 
many  of  his  cherished  gratifications, 
and  walk,  comparatively,  a  course  of 
self-denial  and  virtue.  He  would  be  ar- 
rested in  far  the  greater  part  of  his 
purposes,  if  he  knew  that  he  was  act- 
ing under  the  eye  of  this  individual  ; 
and  it  would  only  be  when  assured  that 
the  inspection  was  suspended  or  with- 
drawn, that  he  would  follow  unreser- 
vedly the  bent  of  his  desires.  But  it 
is  amongst  the  most  surprising  of  mo- 
ral phenomena,  that  the  effect,  which 
would  be  produced  by  a  human  in- 
spector, is  scarcely  ever  produced  by 
a  divine.  If  a  man  can  elude  the  obser- 
vation of  his  fellow-men,  he  straight- 
way acts  as  though  he  had  eluded  all 
observation  :  place  him  where  there  is 
no  other  of  his  own  race,  and  he  will 
feel  as  if,  in  the  strictest  sense,  alone. 
The  remembrance  that  the  eye  of  Deity 
is  upon  him,  that  the  infinite  God  is 
continually  at  his  side — so  that  there 
is  absurdity  in  speaking  of  a  solitude  ; 
every  spot  throughout  the  expansions 
of  space  being  inhabited  by  the  Al- 
mighty— this  remembrance,  we  say,  is 
without  any  practical  effect ;  or  rather 
25 


194, 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDERATION. 


the  fact,  though  universally  knoAvn,  is 
not  considered ;  and  therefore  the  man, 
though  in  contact  with  his  Maker,  fan- 
cies himself  in  loneliness,  and  acts  as 
if  certain  of  being  unobserved. 

But  let  consideration  be  superadded 
to  knowledge,  and  there  will  necessa- 
rily be  produced  a  fear  or  dread  of  the 
Creator.  There  is  nothing  so  over- 
whelming to  the  mind,  when  giving  it- 
self to  the  contemplation  of  a  great 
first  cause,  as  the  omnipresence  of  God. 
That,  if  I  were  endowed  with  unlim- 
ited powers  of  motion,  so  that  in  a 
moment  I  might  traverse  unnumbered 
leagues,  I  could  never  for  a  lonely  in- 
stant escape  from  God  ;  that  he  would 
remain  at  the  spot  I  left,  and  yet  be 
found  at  the  spot  I  reached  ;  of  all ' 
truths  this  is  perhaps  the  most  bewil-  | 
daring  and  incomprehensible,  seeing 
that,  more  than  any  other,  it  separates  [ 
the  Infinite  Being  from  all  finite.  But  | 
let  me  consider  this  truth  j  let  me,  if  j 
it  baffle  my  understanding,  endeavor  to 
keep  it  in  active  remembrance.  Where- 
soever I  am,  and  whatsoever  I  do, 
"  thou,  O  God,  seest  me."  Then  it  is 
not  possible  that  the  least  item  of  my 
conduct  may  escape  observation;  that 
I  can  be  so  stealthy  in  my  wickedness 
as  to  commit  it  undetected.  Human 
laws  are  often  severe  in  their  enact- 
ments ;  but  they  may  be  often  trans- 
gressed without  discovery,  and  there- 
fore with  impunity.  But  there  is  no 
such  possibility  in  regard  to  Divine 
laws.  The  Legislator  himself  is  ever 
at  my  side.  The  murkiness  of  the  mid- 
night shrouds  me  not  from  him.  The 
solitariness  of  the  scene  is  no  proof 
against  his  presence.  The  depths  of 
my  own  heart  lie  open  to  his  inspec- 
tion. And  thus  every  action,  every 
word,  every  thought,  is  as  distinctly 
marked  as  though  there  were  none  but 
myself  in  the  universe,  and  all  the 
watchfulness,  and  all  the  scrutiny  of 
God,  were  employed  on  my  deport- 
ment. What  then'  "when  I  consider, 
I  am  afraid  of  him."  The  more  I  re- 
flect, the  more  awful  God  appears.  To 
break  the  law  in  the  sight  of  the  law- 
giver ;  to  brave  the  sentence  in  the 
face  of  the  Judge  ;  there  is  a  hardi- 
hood in  this  which  would  seem  to  over- 
pass the  worst  human  presumption; 
and  we  can  only  say  of  the  man  who 
knows  that  he  does  this  whensoever 


he  ofllends,  that  he  knows,  but  does  not 
consider. 

Oh !  we  are  sure  that  an  abiding 
sense  of  G  od's  presence  would  put  such 
a  restraint  on  the  outgoings  of  wick- 
edness, that,  to  make  it  universal  were 
almost  to  banish  impiety  from  the  earth. 
We  are  sure  that,  if  every  man  went  to 
his  business,  or  his  recreation,  fraught 
Avith  the  consciousness  that  the  Being, 
who  will  decide  his  destiny  for  eterni- 
ty, accompanies  him  in  his  every  step, 
observes  all  his  doings,  and  scrutinizes 
all  his  motives,  an  apprehension  of  the 
dreadfulness  of  the  Almighty,  and  of 
the  utter  peril  of  violating  his  precepts, 
would  take  possession  of  the  whole 
mass  of  society  ;  and  there  would  be  a 
confession  from  all  ranks  and  all  ages, 
that,  however  they  might  have  known 
God  as  the  Omnipresent,  and  yet  made 
light  of  his  authority,  when  they  con- 
sidered God  as  the  Omnipresent,  they 
were  overawed  and  afraid  of  him. 

But  again — it  is  not  the  mere  feeling 
that  God  exercises  a  supervision  over 
my  actions,  which  will  produce  that 
dread  of  him  which  Job  asserts  in  our 
text.  The  moral  character  of  God  will 
enter  largely  into  considerations  upon 
Deity,  and  vastly  aggravate  that  fear 
which  is  produced  by  his  omnipresence. 
Of  course,  it  is  not  the  certainty  that 
a  being  sees  me,  which,  of  itself,  will 
make  me  fear  that  being.  There  must 
be  a  further  certainty,  that  the  conduct 
to  which  I  am  prone  is  displeasing  to 
him ;  and  that,  if  persisted  in,  it  will 
draw  upon  me  his  vengeance.  Let  me 
then  consider  God,  and  determine,  from 
his  necessary  attributes,  whether  there 
can  be  hope  that  he  will  pass  over  with- 
out punishment,  which  cannot  escape 
his  observation. 

We  suppose  God  just,  and  we  sup- 
pose him  merciful  ;  and  it  is  in  settling 
the  relative  claims  of  these  properties, 
that  men  fancy  they  find  ground  for 
expecting  impunity  at  the  last.  The 
matter  to  be  adjusted  is,  how  a  being, 
confessedly  love,  can  so  yield  to  the 
demands  of  justice  as  to  give  up  his 
creatures  to  torrnent ;  and  the  difficul- 
ty of  the  adjustment  makes  way  for  the 
flattering  persuasion,  that  love  will 
hereafter  triumph  over  justice,  and  that 
threatenings,  having  answered  their 
purpose  in  the  moral  government  of 
God,  will  not  be  so  rigidly  exacted  as 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDERATION. 


195 


to  interfere  with  the  workings  of  un- 
bounded compassion.  But  it  is  not  by- 
considering  that  men  encourage  them- 
selves in  the  thought,  that  the  claims 
of  love  and  of  justice  will  be  found 
hereafter  at  variance,  and  that,  in  the 
contest  between  the  two,  those  of  love 
will  prevail.  Through  not  considering, 
men  have  hope  in  God ;  let  them  only 
consider,  and  we  are  bold  to  say  they 
will  be  afraid  of  God. 

If  I  do  but  reflect  seriously  on  the 
love  of  my  Maker,  I  must  perceive  it 
to  be  a  disposition  to  produce  the  great- 
est amount  of  happiness,  by  upholding 
through  the  universe  those  principles 
of  righteousness  with  whose  overthrow 
misery  stands  indissolubly  connected. 
But  it  is  quite  evident,  that,  when  once 
evil  has  been  introduced,  this  greatest 
amount  of  happiness  is  not  that  which 
would  result  from  the  unconditional 
pardon  of  every  worker  of  evil.  Such 
pardon  would  show  the  abandonment 
of  the  principles  of  righteousness,  and 
therefore  spread  consternation  and  dis- 
may amongst  the  unfallen  members  of 
God's  intelligent  household.  A  benevo- 
lence which  should  set  aside  justice, 
would  cease  to  be  benevolence :  it 
would  be  nothing  but  a  weakness, 
which,  in  order  to  snatch  a  few  from 
deserved  misery,  overturned  the  laws 
of  moral  government,  and  exposed  my- 
riads to  anarchy  and  wretchedness. 
And  yet  further — unless  God  be  faith- 
ful to  his  threatenings,  I  have  no  war- 
rant for  believing  that  he  will  be  faith- 
ful to  his  promises  ;  if  he  deny  himself 
in  one,  he  ceases  to  be  God,  and  there 
is  an  end  of  all  reasonable  hope  that  he 
will  make  good  the  other. 

So  that  however,  on  a  hasty  glance, 
and  forming  my  estimate  of  benevo- 
lence from  the  pliancy  of  human  sym- 
pathies, which  are  wrought  on  by  a  tear, 
and  not  proof  against  complaint,  I  may 
think  that  the  love  of  the  Almighty  will 
forbid  the  everlasting  misery  of  any  of 
his  creatures  ;  let  me  consider,  and  the 
dreamy  expectation  of  a  weak  and  wo- 
manish tenderness  will  give  place  to 
apprehension  and  dread.  I  consider; 
and  I  see  that,  if  God  be  not  true  to  his 
Avord,  he  confounds  the  distinctions  be- 
tween evil  and  good,  destroys  his  own 
sovereignty,  and  shakes  the  founda- 
f^  tions  of  happiness  through  the  universe. 
1  consider  j  and  I  perceive  that  to  let 


go  unvisited  the  impenitent,  would  be 
to  forfeit  the  character  of  a  righteous 
moral  governor,  and  to  proclaim  to 
every  rank  of  intelligence,  in  all  the 
circuits  of  immensity,  that  law  was 
abolished,  and  disobedience  made  safe. 
I  consider ;  and  I  observe  that  a  love, 
which  triumphed  over  justice,  could 
not  be  the  love  of  a  perfect  being ;  for 
the  love  of  a  perfect  being,  whatever 
its  yearnings  over  myself,  must  include 
love  of  justice  ;  so  that  I  trust  to  what 
God  cannot  feel,  when  1  trust  to  a 
compassion  which  cannot  allow  punish- 
ment. 

And  thus,  when  I  consider  there  is 
no  resting-place   for  the  spirit  in  the 
flattering  delusion,  that,  in  the  moment 
of  terrible  extremity,  when  the  misdo- 
ings of  a  long  life  shall  have  given  in 
their  testimony,  mercy  will  interpose 
between  justice  and  the  criminal,  and 
ward   oft'  the   blow,    and    welcome    to 
happiness.    Every  attribute    of  Deity, 
benevolence   itself  as  well  as  justice, 
and  holiness,  and  truth,  rises   against 
the  delusion,  and  warns  me  that' to  che- 
rish it  is  to  go  headlong  to  destruc- 
tion.   The  theory  that  God  is  too  lov- 
ing to  take  vengeance,  will  not  bear 
being  considered.    The  notion  that  the 
judge  will  prove  less   rigid  than  the 
lawgiver,  will  not  bear  being  consider- 
ed.   The  opinion  that  the  purposes  of 
a  moral  government  may  have  been  an- 
swered by  the  threatening,  so  as  not 
to  need  the  infliction,  will  not  bear  be- 
ing considered.     And   therefore,    if   I 
have  accustomed  myself  to  such  a  re- 
presentation of  Deity  as  makes  bene- 
volence, falsely  so  called,  the  grave  of 
every  other  attribute  ;  and  if,   allured 
by  such  representation,  I  have  quieted 
anxiety,  and  kept  down  the  pleadings 
of  conscience  ;  consideration  will  scat- 
ter the   delusion,   and   gird   me  round 
with  terrors  ;  whilst  I  look  only  on  the 
surface  of  things,  I  may  be  confident, 
but  when  I  consider,  I  am  afraid. 

Oh!  it  is  not,  as  some  would  per- 
suade you,  the  dream  of  gloomy  and 
miscalculating  men,  that  a  punishment, 
the  very  mention  of  which  curdles  the 
blood  and  makes  the  limbs  tremble, 
awaits,  through  the  lon^  hereafter, 
those  who  set  at  naught  the  atonement 
efl'ected  by  Christ.  It  is  not  the  pic- 
ture of  a  diseased  imagination,  nursed 
in  error  and  trammelled  by  enthusiasm, 


19G 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDERATION. 


that  of  God,  who  now  plies  us  with 
the  overtures  of  forgiveness,  coming 
forth  with  all  the  artillery  of  wrath,  and 
dealing  out  vengeance  on  those  who 
have  "  done  despite  to  the  spirit  of 
grace."  We  bring  the  dream  to  the  ri- 
gid investigations  of  wakefulness  ;  we 
expose  the  picture  to  the  microscopes 
of  the  closest  meditation  ;  and  when 
men  would  taunt  us  with  our  belief  in 
unutterable  torments,  portioned  out  bjr 
a  Creator  who  loves,  (with  a  love  over- 
passing language,)  the  very  meanest  of 
his  creatures;  and  when  they  would 
smile  at  our  credulity  in  supposing  that 
God  can  act  in  a  manner  so  repugnant 
to  his  confessed  nature  ;  we  retort  on 
them  at  once  the  charge  of  adopting 
an  unsupported  theory.  \Vg  tell  them, 
that,  if  with  them  we  could  escape  from 
thought,  and  smother  reflection,  then 
with  them  we  might  give  harborage  to 
the  soothing  persuasion  that  there  is 
no  cause  for  dread,  and  that  God  is  of 
too  yearning  a  compassion  to  resign 
aught  of  humankind  to  be  broken  on 
the  wheel  or  scathed  by  the  fire.  But 
it  is  in  proportion  as  the  mind  fastens 
itself  upon  God  that  alarm  is  excited. 
Thought,  in  place  of  dissipating^  gene- 
rates terror.  And  thus,  paralyze  my 
reason,  debar  me  from  every  exercise 
of  intellect,  reduce  me  to  the  idiot,  and 
I  shall  be  careless  and  confident :  but 
leave  me  the  equipment  and  use  of 
mental  faculties,  and  ''  when  I  consid- 
er, I  am  afraid  of  him." 

But  the  connection  between  consid- 
eration and  fear  will  be  yet  more  evi- 
dent, if  the  works  of  God  engage  our 
attention.  We  have  hitherto  consider- 
ed only  the  nature  of  God.  But  if  we 
now  meditate  on  either  creation  or  re- 
demption, under  which  two  divisions 
we  may  class  the  works  of  God,  we 
shall  find  additional  proof  of  the  truth 
of  the  saying,  "  when  I  consider,  1  am 
afraid  of  him." 

Now  we  readily  admit  that  a  fear,  or 
dread,  of  the  Almighty  is  not  the  feel- 
ing ordinarily  excited  by  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  heavens,  or  the  loveliness 
of  a  landscape.  It  most  frequently  hap- 
pens, imless  the  mind  be  so  morally 
deadened  a^  to  receive  no  impressions 
from  the  splendid  panorama,  that  senti- 
ments of  warm  admiration,  and  of  con- 
fidence in  God  as  the  benignant  Pa- 
rent of  the  universe,  are  elicited  by 


exhibitions  of  creative  wisdom  and 
might.  And  we  are  enough  from  de- 
signing to  assert,  that  the  exhibitions 
are  not  calculated  to  produce  such  sen- 
timents. We  think  that  the  broad  and 
varied  face  of  nature  serves  as  a  mir- 
ror, in  which  the  christian  may  trace 
much  that  is  most  endearing  in  the  cha- 
racter of  his  Maker.  We  should  reck- 
on it  fair  evidence  against  the  piety  of 
an  individual,  if  he  could  gaze  on  the 
stars  in  their  courses,  or  travel  over  the 
provinces  of  this  globe,  and  mark  with 
what  profusion  all  that  can  minister  to 
human  happiness  is  scattered  around,  ' 
and  yet  be  conscious  of  no  ascendings 
of  heart  towards  that  benevolent  Fa-  u 
ther  who  hath  given  to  man  so  s\o- 
rious  a  dwelling,  and  overarched  it 
with  so  brilliant  a  canopy.  Where 
there  is  a  devout  spirit,  we  are  sure 
that  the  placing  a  man  whence  he  may 
look  forth  on  some  majestic  develop- 
ment of  scenery,  on  luxuriant  valleys^ 
and  the  amphitheatre  of  mountains,  and 
the  xvindings  of  rivers,  is  the  placing 
him  where  he  will  learn  a  new  lesson 
in  theology,  and  grow  warmer  in  his 
love  of  that  Eternal  Being  "  who  in  the 
beginning  created  the  heavens  and  the 
earth." 

But  we  speak  now  of  what  is  adapted 
to  the  producing  fear  of  God  in  the 
careless  and  unconverted  man  :  and  we 
say  that  it  is  only  through  want  of  con- 
sideration that  such  fear  is  not  excited 
by  the  works  of  creation.  The  uncon- 
verted man,  as  Avell  as  the  converted, 
can  take  delight  in  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture, and  be  conscious  of  ecstasy  of 
spirit,  as  his  eye  gathers  in  the  won- 
ders of  the  material  universe.  But  the 
converted  man,  whilst  the  mighty  pic- 
ture is  before  him,  and  the  sublime 
features  and  the  lovely  successively 
fasten  his  admiration,  considers  who 
spread  out  the  landscape  and  gave  it 
its  splendor  ;  and  from  such  consider- 
ation he  derives  fresh  confidence  in 
the  God  whom  he  feels  to  be  his  God, 
pledged  to  uphold  him,  and  supply  his 
every  want.  The  unconverted  man,  on 
the  contrary,  will  either  behold  the  ar- 
chitecture without  giving  a  thought  to 
the  architect  ;  or,  observing  how  ex- 
quisite a  regard  for  his  well-being  may 
be  traced  in  the  arrangements  of  crea- 
tion, will  strengthen  himself  in  his  ap- 
peal to  the  compassions  of  Deity,  by 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDERATION. 


197 


the  tender  solicitudes  of  which  he  can 
thus  prove  himself  the  subject.  If  he 
gather  any  feeling  from  the  spreadings 
of  the  landscape,  beyond  that  high- 
wrought  emotion  which  is  wakened  by 
the  noble  combinations  of  rock,  and 
Jake,  and  cloud,  and  forest — just  as 
though  all  the  poetry  of  the  soul  were 
responding  to  some  melodious  and 
magnificent  summons — it  is  only  the 
feeling  that  God  is  immeasurably  be- 
nevolent ;  and  that,  having  been  so 
careful  of  man's  happiness  in  time,  he 
will  not  abandon  him  to  wretchedness 
through  eternity. 

But  we  should  like  to  bring  this  ro- 
mantic and  Arcadian  theology  to  the 
test  of  consideration.  We  believe,  that, 
if  we  could  make  the  man  consider,  he 
would  not  be  encouraged  by  the  tokens 
of  loving-kindness  with  which  all  na- 
ture is  charactered,  to  continue  the 
life  of  indifference  or  dissoluteness. 
There  are  two  ideas  which  seem  to  us 
furnished  by  the  works  of  creation, 
when  duly  considered.  The  first  is, 
that  nothing  can  withstand  God ;  the 
second,  that  nothing  can  escape  him. 
When  I  muse  on  the  stupendousness 
of  creation;  when  I  think  of  countless 
W'orlds  built  out  of  nothing  by  the  sim- 
ple word  of  Jehovah  ;  my  conviction  is 
that  God  must  be  irresistible,  so  that 
the  opposing  him  is  the  opposing  Om- 
nipotence. But  if  I  cannot  withstand 
God,  I  may  possibly  escape  him.  Insig- 
nificant as  I  am,  an  inconsiderable  unit 
on  an  inconsiderable  globe,  may  I  not 
be  overlooked  by  this  irresistible  Be- 
ing, and  thus,  as  it  were,  be  sheltered 
by  my  littleness  1  If  I  would  answer 
this  question,  let  me  consider  creation 
in  its  minutest  departments.  Let  me 
examine  the  least  insect,  the  anima- 
ted thing  of  a  day  and  an  atom.  How 
it  glows  with  deity!  How  busy  has 
God  been  with  polishing  the  joints,  and 
feathering  the  wings,  of  this  almost  im- 
perceptible recipient  of  life  !  How  care- 
fully has  he  attended  to  its  every  want, 
supplying  profusely  whatever  can  glad- 
den its  ephemeral  existence  !  Dare  I 
think  this  tiny  insect  overlooked  by 
God  1  Wonderful  in  its  structure,  beau- 
tiful in  its  raiment  of  the  purple  and 
the  gold  and  the  crimson,  surrounded 
abundantly  by  all  that  is  adapted  to  the 
cravings  of  its  nature,  can  I  fail  to  re- 
gard it  as  fashioned  by  the  skill,  and 


watched  by  the  providence,  of  him  who 
"  meted  out  heaven  with  a  span,  and 
measured  the  waters  in  the  hollow  of 
his  hand  1"  It  were  as  easy  to  persuade 
me,  when  considering,  that  the  arch- 
angel, moving  in  majesty  and  burning 
with  beauty,  is  overlooked  by  God,  as 
that  this  insect,  liveried  as  it  is  in 
splendor  and  throned  in  plenty,  is  un- 
observed by  Him  who  alone  could  have 
formed  it. 

And  if  the  least  of  animated  things 
be  thus  subject  to  the  inspections  of 
God,  who  or  what  shall  escape  those 
inspections,  and  be  screened  by  its  in- 
significance'? Till  I  consider,  I  may 
fancy,  that,  occupied  with  the  affairs  of 
an  unbounded  empire,  our  Maker  can 
give  nothing  more  than  a  general  at- 
tention to  the  inhabitants  of  a  solitary 
planet  ;  and  that  consequently  an  indi- 
vidual like  myself  may  well  hope  to 
escape  the  severity  of  his  scrutiny. 
But  when  I  consider,  I  go  from  the 
planet  to  the  atom.  I  pass  from  the 
population  of  this  globe,  in  the  infancy 
of  their  immortality,  to  the  breathing 
particles  which  must  perish  in  the  hour 
of  their  birth.  And  I  cannot  find  that 
the  atom  is  overlooked.  I  cannot  find 
that  one  of  its  fleeting  tenantry  is  un- 
observed and  uncared  for.  I  consider 
then ;  but  consideration  scatters  the 
idea,  that,  because  I  am  but  the  insig- 
nificant unit  of  an  insignificant  race, 
''  God  will  not  see,  neither  will  the 
Holy  One  of  Israel  regard."  And  thus, 
by  considering  the  works  of  creation, 
I  reach  the  persuasion  that  nothing 
can  escape  God,  just  as  before  that  no- 
thing can  withstand  him.  What  then 
will  be  the  feeling  which  consideration 
generates  in  reference  to  God  '?  I  con- 
sider God  as  revealed  by  creation  ;  and 
he  appears  before  me  Avith  a  might 
which  can  crush  every  offender,  and 
with  a  scrutiny  which  can  detect  every 
I  offence.  Oh  then,  if  it  be  alike  impos- 
j  sible  to  resist  God,  and  to  conceal 
from  God,  is  he  not  a  being  of  whom 
,  to  stand  in  awe ;  and  shall  I  not  again 
j  confess,  that  "  when  I  consider,  I  am 
afraid  of  himl" 

We  would  just  observe,  in  order  to 

the    completeness    of   this   portion    of 

our  argument,  that  it  must  be  want  of 

consideration  which  makes  us  read  on- 

i  ly  God's  love  in  the  works  of  creation. 

I  We  say  of  the  man  who  infers  nothing 


198 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDERATION. 


but  the  benevolence  of  Deity  from  the 
firmament  and  the  landscape,  just  as 
though  no  other  attribute  were  graven 
on  the  encompassing  scenery,  that  he 
contents  himself  with  a  superficial 
glance,  or  blinds  himself  to  the  traces 
of  wrath  and  devastation.  That  we 
live  in  a  disorganized  section  of  the 
universe  ;  that  our  globe  has  been  the 
scene  and  subject  of  mighty  convul- 
sions ;  we  hold  these  facts  to  be  as  legi- 
ble in  the  lineaments  of  nature,  as  that 
"  the  Lord  is  good  to  all,  and  his  ten- 
der mercies  are  over  all  his  works," 
There  is  avast  deal  in  the  appearances 
of  the  earth,  and  in  the  phenomena  of 
the  elements,  to  assure  us  that  evil  has 
been  introduced  amongst  us,  and  has 
already  provoked  the  vengeance  of 
God,  So  that  a  considering  man,  if  he 
make  the  visible  creation  the  object  of 
his  reflection,  will  reach  the  conclu- 
sion, that,  whatever  may  be  the  com- 
passions of  his  Maker,  he  can  interfere 
for  the  punishment  of  iniquity — a  con- 
clusion which  at  once  dissipates  the 
hope,  that  the  love  of  God  will  miti- 
gate, if  not  remove,  deserved  penal- 
ties, and  which  therefore  strengthens 
our  proof  that,  when  we  consider,  we 
shall  be  afraid  of  God. 

But  we  have  yet,  in  the  last  place, 
to  speak  briefly  on  the  noblest  of  God's 
works,  the  work  of  redemption.  Is  it 
possible  that,  if  I  consider  this  work,  I 
shall  be  afraid  of  God  1  We  premise 
that,  throughout  our  discourse,  we 
have  endeavored  to  deal  with  popular 
delusions,  and  to  show  you  how  con- 
sideration, superadded  to  knowledge, 
would  rouse  the  careless  and  indiffer- 
ent. We  have  maintained,  all  along, 
that  the  mere  knowledge  of  truths 
may  lie  inertly  in  the  mind,  or  furnish 
ground-work  for  some  false  and  flatter- 
ing hypothesis.  But  this  is  sajdng  no- 
thing against  the  worth  or  tendency 
of  these  truths ;  it  is  wholly  directed 
against  the  not  considering  what  we 
know.  Thus  the  question  with  respect 
to  redemption  is  simply,  whether  this 
scheme,  as  known  by  the  mass  of  men, 
may  not  lull  those  fears  of  God  v/hicli 
ought  to  be  stirring  in  their  breasts ; 
and  whether  this  scheme,  as  consider- 
ed, would  not  make  them  afraid  of 
God  \  We  learn  from  the  Epistles,  that 
there  may  be  such  a  thing  as  continu- 
ing in  sin  that  grace  may  abound — a  fact 


which  sufficiently  shows  that  redemp- 
tion may  be  abused  ;  and  if  abused,  it  is, 
we  argue,  through  not  being  considered. 
It  is  our  duty,  as  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ,  to  dwell  largely  on 
the  love  which  God  feels  towards  sin- 
ners, and  to  point  continually  to  the 
demonstration  of  that  love  in  the  gift 
of  his  only  and  well-beloved  Son,  We 
cannot  speak  in  over-wrought  terms  of 
the  readiness  of  the  Almighty  to  for- 
give, and  of  the  amplitude  of  the  atone- 
ment effected  by  the  Meditator,  We 
are  charged  with  the  offer  of  pardon 
to  the  whole  mass  of  human  kind : 
enough  that  a  being  is  man,  and  we 
are  instructed  to  beseech  him  to  be  re- 
conciled to  God,  And  a  glorious  truth 
it  is,  that  no  limitations  are  placed  on 
the  proffered  forgiveness ;  but  that, 
Christ  having  died  for  the  world,  the 
world,  in  all  its  departments  and  ge- 
nerations, may  take  salvation  "  without 
money  and  without  price."  We  call  it 
a  glorious  truth,  because  there  is  thus 
every  thing  to  encourage  the  meanest 
and  unworthiest,  if  they  will  close  with 
the  offer,  and  accept  deliverance  in  the 
one  appointed  way.  But  then  it  is  quite 
possible  that  the  gospel  offers,  thus 
cheering  to  the  humble  and  contrite, 
may  be  wrested  into  an  encourage- 
ment to  the  obdurate  and  indifferent. 
Men  may  know  that  God  has  so  loved 
them  as  to  give  his  Son  to  die  for 
them ;  and  then,  through  not  consider- 
ing, may  imagine  that  a  love  thus  stu- 
pendously displayed,  can  never  permit 
the  final  wretchedness  of  its  objects. 
The  scheme  of  redemption,  though  it- 
self the  most  thrilling  homily  against 
sin,  may  be  viewed  by  those  who  would 
fain  build  on  the  uncovenanted  mercies 
of  God,  as  proving  a  vast  improbability 
that  creatures,  so  beloved  as  ourselves, 
and  purchased  at  so  inconceivable  a 
price,  win  ever  be  consigned  to  the 
ministry  of  vengeance.  Hence,  because 
they  know  the  fact  of  this  redemption, 
the  careless  amongst  you  have  hope  in 
God  ;  but,  if  they  considered  this  fact, 
they  would  be  afraid  of  him. 

There  is  nothing  which,  when  deep- 
ly pondered,  is  more  calculated  to  ex- 
cite fears  of  God,  than  that  marvellous 
interposition  on  our  behalf  which  is  the 
alone  basis  of  legitimate  hope.  When 
I  consider  redemption,  what  a  picture 
of  God's  hatred  of  sin  rises  before  me  ; 


ON  THE  EFFECTS  OF  CONSIDERATION. 


199 


what  an  exhibition  of  his  resolve  to  al- 
low justice  to  exact  all  its  claims.  The 
smoking  cities  of  the  plain  ;  the  de- 
luged earth  with  its  overwhelmed  po- 
pulation; the  scattered  Jews,  strewing 
the  globe  like  the  fragments  of  a  mighty 
shipwreck — nothing  can  tell  me  so  em- 
phatically as  Christ  dying,  "the  just 
for  the  unjust,"  how  God  abhors  sin, 
and  how  determined  he  is  to  punish  sin. 
And  if  God  could  deal  so  awfully  and 
terribly  with  his  own  Son,  when  bear- 
ing the  Aveight  of  imputed  transgres- 
sioHj  will  he  spare  me  —  oh,  it  is  as 
though  he  loved  me  better  than  his  Son 
— if  1  appear  before  him  with  the  bur- 
den of  unrepented  sins;  if,  perverting 
his  efforts  to  turn  me  from  iniquity 
into  encouragements  to  brave  all  his 
threatenings,  I  build  on  the  atonement 
■whilst  I  break  the  commandments  I  I 
consider  God  as  manifested  in  redemp- 
tion ;  he  shows  himself  a  holy  God,  and 
therefore  do  I  fear  him.  He  displays 
his  determination  to  take  vengeance, 
and  therefore  do  I  fear  him.  He  ex- 
hibits the  fixed  principles  of  his  moral 
government,  and  therefore  do  I  fear 
him.  He  bids  the  sword  av/ake  against 
his  fellow,  and  therefore  do  I  fear  him. 
He  writes  the  condemnation  of  the  im- 
penitent in  the  blood  which  cleanses 
those  who  believe,  and  therefore  do  I 
fear  him.  Oh,  f  might  cast  a  hasty 
glance  at  the  scheme  of  redemption, 
and  observe  little  more  than  the  un- 
measured loving-kindness  which  it 
manifests.  I  might  gather  from  it  the 
preciousness  of  the  human  soul  in 
God's  sight,  a  preciousness  so  vast  that 
its  loss  must  be  a  catastrophe  at  which 
the  universe  shudders,  seeing  its  re- 
demption was  effected  amid  the  throes 
and  convulsions  of  nature.  And  this 
might  confirm  me  in  the  delusion  that 
I  may  sin  with  impunity.  But  let  me 
reflect  on  the  scheme,  and  God  is  be- 
fore me,  robed  in  awfulncss  and  clothed 
with  judgment,  vindicating  the  majesty 
of  his  insulted  law  and  relaxing  not 
one  tittle  of  its  penalties,  bearing  out 
to  the  letter  the  words  of  the  prophet, 
"  the  Lord  will  take  vengeance  on  his 
adversaries,  and  he  reserveth  wrath  for 
his  enemies  ;"  and  therefore  it  must  be 
with  redemption,  as  it  is  with  creation, 
"  When  I  consider,  I  am  afraid  of  him." 
And  nov/,  brethren,  what  words  shall 
we  use  of  you  but  these  of  Moses,  ''  0 


that  they  were  wise,  that  they  under- 
stood this,  that  they  would  consider 
their  latter  end  ?"  We  simply  wish  to 
bring  you  to  consider ;  and  then,  we 
believe,  you  will  both  discover  what  is 
duty,  and  determine  to  follow  it. 

This  is  the  sum  of  what  we  have  to 
urge  in  respect  to  the  charity  which 
now  solicits  your  support.  Consider 
what  is  your  duty  towards  j/our  be- 
nighted countrymen,  and  we  have  no 
fears  of  your  failing  to  be  liberal  in 
your  contribution.  It  is  only  through 
the  not  considering,  the  not  consider- 
ing that  you  are  merely  stewards  of 
your  property,  the  not  considering  that 
Christ  is  to  be  ministered  to  in  the  per- 
sons of  the  destitute,  the  not  consider- 
ing that  "  he  that  hath  pity  on  the  poor 
lendeth  to  the  Lord  ;"  it  is  only  from 
such  causes  as  these,  so  palpable  and 
urgent  is  the  duty,  that  yoli  can  fail  to 
give  hearty  support  to  the  institution 
which  now  appeals  to  your  bounty. 
The  exclusive  object  of  the  Irish  Soci- 
ety is  to  communicate  religious  know- 
ledge to  the  peasantry  of  Ireland 
through  the  medium  of  the  Irish  lan- 
guage. There  are  nearly  three  mil- 
lions of  individuals  in  Ireland  who  can 
speak  the  Irish  language  ;  and  of  these, 
ai  least  five  hundred  thousand  can 
speak  no  other.  There  are  five  hun- 
dred thousand  of  your  countrymen,  to 
whom  the  Hebrew  tongue  would  be  as 
intelligible  as  the  English  ;  and  who 
can  no  more  be  approached  through 
the  medium  of  our  national  speech, 
than  the  rude  Hottentot  or  the  Arab  of 
the  desert.  And  this  is  not  all.  There 
are  indeed  hundreds,  and  thousands  in 
Ireland,  who  understand  and  speak  the 
English  tongue  as  well  as  the  Irish ; 
but  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are  as 
ready  to  receive  religious  instruction 
through  the  one  as  through  the  other. 
The  case  is  just  the  reverse.  I  cannot 
express  to  you  the  attachment,  the  de- 
voted and  even  romantic  attachment, 
which  an  Irish-speaking  peasant  has  for 
his  native  dialect.  It  is  a  chivalrous 
attachment.  It  is  even  a  superstitious 
attachment.  He  believes  that  no  here- 
tic can  learn  Irish,  and  thnt  cc:2<5equent- 
ly  nothing  but  truth  oan  be  writter;  or 
spoken  in  Irish.  Aad  thus,  if  you  will 
only  take  advantage  of  his  prejudices, 
you  can  at  oiiCe  induce  him  to  receive 
and   read  ihe  Holy  Scriptures.     Give 


200 


ON    THE    EFFECTS    OF    CONSIDERATION. 


him  an  English  Bible,  and  he  will  scarce- 
ly dare  open  it,  because  pronounced  he- 
retical by  his  priest.  But  give  him  an 
Irish  Bible,  and  no  menaces  can  induce 
its  surrender  ;  the  book  is  in  Irish,  and 
he  knows  therefore  that  it  cannot  con- 
tain heresy.  And  does  not  this  demon- 
strate the  importance  of  employing  the 
Irish  lanffuasje  as  a  vehicle  for  the 
communication  of  religious  instruction  ; 
and  does  not  a  Society,  which  is  act- 
ing through  this  language,  come  be- 
fore you  with  special  claims  on  your 
liberal  support! 

I  turn  to  Ireland,  and  I  perceive  that 
nature  has  done  much  for  that  which 
poetry  calls  the  emerald  isle  of  the 
ocean.  There  is  fertility  in  her  soil, 
and  majesty  in  her  mountains,  and  lux- 
uriance in  lier  valleys,  and  a  loveliness 
in  her  lakes,  which  makes  them  rivals 
to  those  in  which  Italian  skies  glass 
their  deep  azure.  And  the  character  of 
her  children  is  that  of  a  lofty  and  ge- 
nerous heroism  ;  for  I  believe  not  that 
there  is  a  nation  under  heaven,  possess- 
ing more  of  the  elements  than  belong 
to  the  Irish,  of  what  is  bold,  and  disin- 
terested, and  liberal.  And  without  ques- 
tion it  is  a  phenomenon,  at  which  we 
may  well  be  startled  and  amazed,  to 
behold  Ireland,  in  spite  of  the  advan- 
tages to  which  I  have  referred,  in  spite 
of  her  close  alliance  with  the  home  and 
iTiistress  of  arts  and  liberty,  torn  by  in- 
testine factions,  and  harassed  by  the 
feuds  and  commotions  of  her  tenant- 
ry. Of  such  phenomenon  the  solution 
would  be  hopeless,  if  we  did  not  know 
that  Ireland  is  oppressed  by  a  bigoted 
faith,  bestrid  by  that  giant  corrupter 
of  Christianity,  who  knows,  and  acts 
on  the  knowledge,  that  to  enlighten  ig- 
norance were  to  overthrow  his  empire. 
It  is  because  Ireland  is  morally  benight- 
ed that  she  is  physically  degraded;  and 
the  engines  which  must  be  turned  on 
her,  to  raise  her  to  her  due  rank  in  the 
scale  of  nations,  are  religious  rather 
than  political;  she  cart  be  thorough- 
ly civilized  only  by  being  thoroughly 
christianized. 

And  certainly,  if  there  were  ever  a 
time  when  it  was  incumbent  upon  pro- 
testants  to  labor  at  spreading  the  pure 
Gospel  through  Ireland,  this  is  that 
time.  Popery  is  making  unparalleled 
efforts  to  expel  protestantism  altoge- 
ther.   Shall  then  the  protestantism  of 


England  stand  tamely  bj',  as  though  it 
had  no  interest  in  the  struggle!  We 
are  persuaded,  on  the  contrary,  that,  as 
protestants,  you  w^ill  feel  it  alike  your 
duty,  and  your  privilege,  to  aid  to  the 
best  of  your  ability  institutions  which 
provide  a  scriptural  instruction  for  the 
peasantry  of  Ireland.  And  whilst  we 
gladly  confess  that  other  societies  have 
labored  vigorously  and  successfully  for 
this  great  object,  we  think,  from  the 
reasons  already  advanced,  that  none 
employs  a  more  admirable  agency  than 
that  for  which  we  plead  ;  and  therefore 
are  we  earnest  in  entreating  for  it  your 
liberal  support.  The  Irish  Society  will 
bear  being  considered;  we  ask  you  to 
consideritsclaims,  and  we  feel  confident 
you  will  acknowledge  their  urgency. 
I  cannot  add  more.  I  may  have  al- 
ready detained  you  too  long;  but  I 
know  not  when  I  may  speak  again  in 
this  place  ;  and  I  desire,  ere  I  go,  to 
have  proof,  from  your  zeal  for  the 
souls  of  others,  that  you  are  anxious  in 
regard  to  your  own  salvation.  We 
must  fear  of  many  amongst  you,  that 
they  hear  sermons,  but  do  not  consider. 
Companions  die  around  them,  but  they 
do  not  consider.  They  meet  funerals 
as  they  walk  the  streets,  but  they  do 
not  consider.  They  are  warned  by  sick- 
ness and  affliction,  but  they  do  not  con- 
sider. They  feel  that  age  is  creeping 
upon  them,  but  they  do  not  consider. 
What  shall  we  say  to  you  1  Will  ye 
continue  to  give  cause  for  the  applica- 
tion to  yourselves  of  those  touching 
words  of  God  by  his  prophet,  "  The  ox 
knoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  his 
master's  crib,  but  Israel  doth  not  know, 
my  people  doth  not  consider  T'  Preach- 
ers cannot  make  you  consider.  They 
exhort  you,  they  entreat  you,  they  tell 
you  of  a  Savior,  and  of  the  utter  ruin 
of  going  on  still  in  your  wickedness. 
But  they  cannot  make  you  consider. 
You  must  consider  for  yourselves: 
you  must,  for  yourselves,  ask  God's 
Spirit  to  aid  you  in-considering.  AVould 
that  you  might  consider  ;  for  when  the 
trumpet  is  sounding,  and  the  dead  are 
stirring,  you  will  be  forced  to  consider, 
though  it  will  be  too  late  for  consider- 
ation to  produce  any  thing  but  unmin- 
gled  terror — Oh,  can  you  tell  me  the 
agony  of  being  compelled  to  exclaim 
at  the  judgment,  "  when  I  consider,  I 
am  afraid  of  Him  1" 


18  37. 


SERMON. 


THE  TWO  SONS. 


'  But  what  thiak  ye  1  A  certain  man  had  two  sons  ;  and  he  came  to  the  first,  and  said,  Son,  go  work 
to-day  in  my  vineyard.  He  answered  and  said,  I  will  not  ;  but  afterward  he  repented  and  went. 
And  he  came  to  the  second,  and  said  likewi.se.  And  he  answdred  and  said,  I  go.  Sir,  and  went 
not."— St,  Matthew,  21  :  28,  29,  30. 


Our  Savior  had  such  knowledge  of 
the  human  heart,  and  such  power  of 
expressing  that  knowledge,  that  he  fre- 
quently gives  us,  in  one  or  two  bold 
outlines,  descriptions  of  great  classes 
into  which  the  world,  or  the  church, 
may  be  divided.  There  is  no  more  re- 
markable instance  of  this  than  the  pa- 
rable of  the  sou'er,  with  which  we  may 
suppose  you  nil  well  acquainted.  In 
that  parable  Christ  furnishes  descrip- 
tions of  four  classes  of  the  hearers  of 
the  Gospel,  each  description  being 
brief,  and  fetched  from  the  character  of 
the  soil  on  which  the  sower  cast  his 
seed.  But  the  singularity  is,  that  these 
four  classes  include  the  whole  mass  of 
hearers,  so  that,  when  combined,  they 
make  up  either  the  world  or  the  church. 
You  cannot  imagine  any  fifth  class. 
For  in  every  man  who  is  brought  with- 
in sound  of  the  Gospel,  the  seed  must 
be  as  that  by  the  wayside,  which  is 
quickly  carried  away,  or  as  that  on 
shallow  soil  where  the  roots  cannot 
strike,  or  as  that  among  thorns  which 
choke  all  the  produce,  or  finally,  as 
that  which,  falling  on  a  well-prepared 
place,  yields  fruit  abundantly.  You 
may  try  to  find  hearers  who  come  not 
under  any  one  of  these  descriptions, 
but  you  will  not  succeed  ;  whilst,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  world  has  never  yet 
presented  an  assemblage  of  mixed  hear- 
ers, which  might  not  be  resolved  into 
these  four  divisions.    And  we  regard  it 


as  an  extraordinary  evidence  of  the 
sagacity,  if  the  expression  be  law- 
ful, of  our  Lord,  of  his  superhuman 
penetration,  and  of  his  marvellous  fa- 
cility in  condensing  volumes  into  sen- 
tences, that  he  has  thus  furnished, 
in  few  words,  a  sketch  of  the  whole 
world  in  its  every  age,  and  given 
us,  within  the  compass  of  a  dozen 
lines,  the  moral  history  of  our  race, 
as  acted  on  by  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel. 

We  make  this  reference  to  the  parable 
of  the  sower,  because  we  consider  it 
rivalled  in  its  comprehensiveness,  and 
the  unvarying  accuracy  of  its  descrip- 
tions, by  the  portion  of  Holy  Writ  on 
which  we  now  purpose  to  discourse. 
We  do  not  mean  that  the  two  sons  can 
represent  the  whole  world,  or  the  whole 
church,  in  the  same  manner  or  degree 
as  the  four  classes  of  hearers.  There 
w^ould  mcinifestly  be  a  contradiction  in 
this ;  for  if  there  be  four  parts  into 
which  the  whole  may  be  divided,  it 
were  absurd  to  contend  for  the  equal 
propriety  of  a  division  into  two.  But 
we  .nevertheless  believe  that  two  very 
large  classes  of  persons,  subsisting  in 
every  age  of  the  church,  are  represent- 
ed by  the  tw-o  sons,  and  that,  there- 
fore, in  delivering  the  parable  before 
us,  as  well  as  that  of  the  sower,  Christ 
displayed  his  more  than  human  ac- 
quaintance with  mankind,  and  his 
power  of  delineating,  by  the  simplest 
26 


202 


THE    TWO    SONS. 


figures,  the  reception  of  his  Gospel  to  ] 
the  very  end  of  time.  All  this,  how- 
ever, will  become  more  evident,  as  we 
proceed  with  the  exposition  of  the 
passage,  and  show  you,  as  we  think 
to  do,  that  centuries  have  made  no 
difference  in  the  faithfulness  of  the 
sketch. 

You  will  observe  that  the  parable,  or 
illustration,  or  real  history — for  it  mat- 
ters little  which  term  you  assign  to 
this  portion  of  Scripture — is  introduced 
by  our  Lord,  whilst  holding  a  discourse 
with  the  priests  and  elders  in  the  tem- 
ple. They  had  come  round  him,  de- 
manding by  what  authority  he  acted — 
as  though  he  had  not  given  sufficient- 
ly clear  proof  that  his  mission  was 
from  God.  Where  the  demand  was  so 
unreasonable,  Jesus  would  not  vouch- 
safe a  direct  answer.  He  therefore 
made  his  reply  conditional  on  their 
telling  him  whether  the  baptism  of 
John  Avas  from  heaven  or  of  men.  He 
thus  brought  them  into  a  dilemina  from 
which  no  sophistry  could  extricate 
them.  If  they  allowed  the  divine  cha- 
racter of  John's  baptism,  they  laid 
themselves  open  to  the  charge  of  gross 
inconsistency,  in  not  having  believed 
him,  and  in  denying  the  Messiahship  of 
him  whom  he  heralded.  But  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  they  uttered  what  they 
really  thought,  and  affirmed  John's 
baptism  to  have  been  of  men,  they  felt 
that  they  should  excite  the  multitude 
against  themselves,  inasmuch  as  the 
people  held  the  Baptist  for  a  prophet. 
They  therefore  thought  it  most  pru- 
dent to  pretend  ignorance,  and  to  de- 
clare themselves  unable  to  decide 
whence  the  baptism  was.  Hence,  the 
condition  on  which  Christ  had  promis- 
ed to  answer  their  question  not  having 
been  fulfilled,  they  could  not  press  him 
with  any  further  inquiry,  but  remained 
in  the  position  of  disappointed  and  baf- 
fled antagonists. 

It  consisted  not  however  with  the 
Savior's  character,  that  he  should  con- 
tent himself  with  gaining  a  triumph 
over  opponents,  as  though  he  had  rea- 
soned only  for  the  sake  of  display. 
He  had  severely  mortified  his  bitter- 
est enemies,  by  turning  their  weapons 
against  themselves,  and  bringing  them 
into  a  strait  in  which  they  were  expo- 
sed to  the  contempt  of  the  bystanders. 
But  it  was  their  good  which  he  sought  j 


and  when,  therefore,  he  had  silenced 
them,  he  would  not  let  slip  the  oppor- 
tunity of  setting  before  them  their  con- 
dition, and  adding  another  warning  to 
the  many  which  had  been  uttered  in 
vain.  The  declaration  of  ignorance  in 
regard  to  John's  baptism,  suggested 
the  course  which  his  remonstrance 
should  take,  according  to  his  well- 
known  custom  of  allowing  the  occa- 
sion to  furnish  the  topic  of  his  preach- 
ing. He  delivers  the  parable  which 
forms  our  subject  of  discourse,  and  im- 
mediately follows  it  up  by  the  ques- 
tion, "whether  of  them  twain  did  the 
will  of  his  father  1"  There  was  no 
room  here  for  either  doubt  or  evasion. 
It  was  so  manifest  that  the  son,  who 
had  refused  at  first,  but  who  had  after- 
wards repented  and  gone  to  the  vine- 
yard, was  more  obedient  than  the  other, 
who  had  made  a  profession  of  willing- 
ness, but  never  redeemed  his  promise, 
that  even  priests  and  elders  could  not 
avoid  giving  a  right  decision.  And 
now  Christ  showed  what  his  motive 
had  been  in  delivering  the  parable, 
and  proposing  the  question ;  for  so 
soon  as  he  had  obtained  their  testi- 
mony in  favor  of  the  first  son,  he 
said  to  them,  "  Verily  I  say  unto  you 
that  the  publicans  and  the  harlots 
go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before 
you. 

We  gather  at  once,  from  this  start- 
ling and  severe  saying,  that,  by  the 
second  son  in  the  parable,  Christ  in- 
tended the  leading  men  among  the 
Jews,  and,  by  the  first,  those  despised 
and  profligate  ranks  with  which  phari- 
sees  and  scribes  would  not  hold  the 
least  intercourse.  The  publicans  and 
harlots,  as  he  goes  on  to  observe,  had 
received  John  the  Baptist;  for  num- 
bers had  repented  at  his  preaching. 
But  the  priests  and  elders,  according 
to  their  own  confession  just  made,  had 
not  acknowledged  him  as  coming  from 
God,  and  had  not  been  brought  by  him 
to  amendment  of  life.  And  this  was 
precisely  the  reverse  of  what  the  pro- 
fession of  the  several  parties  had  given 
right  to  expect.  The  priests  and  el- 
ders, making  a  great  show  of  religion, 
and  apparently  eager  expectants  of  the 
promised  Messiah,  seemed  only  to  re- 
quire to  be  directed  to  the  vineyard, 
and  they  would  immediately  and  cheer- 
fully go.    On  the  other  hand,  the  pub- 


THE    TWO    SONS. 


203 


licans  and  harlots,  persons  of  grossly 
immoral  and  profligate  habits,  might 
be  said  to  declare,  by  their  lives,  an 
obstinate  resolve  to  continue  in  diso- 
bedience, so  that,  if  told  to  go  work 
in  the  vineyard,  their  answer  would  be 
a  contemptuous  refusal.  Yet  when  the 
matter  came  to  be  put  to  the  proof,  the 
result  was  widely  different  from  what 
appearances  had  promised.  The  great 
men  amongst  the  Jews,  whose  whole 
profession  was  that  of  parties  waiting 
to  know,  that  they  might  perform, 
God's  will,  were  bidden  by  the  Bap- 
tist to  receive  Jesus  as  their  Savior ; 
but,  notwithstanding  all  their  promises, 
they  treated  him  as  a  deceiver,  and 
would  not  join  themselves  to  his  dis- 
ciples. The  same  message  was  deliv- 
ered to  the  publicans  and  harlots ;  but 
these,  whatever  the  reluctance  which 
they  manifested  at  first,  came  in  crowds 
to  hear  Jesus,  and  took  by  force  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  And  all  this  was 
aptly  illustrated  by  the  parable  before 
us.  The  great  men  were  the  second 
son  ;  for  they  had  said,  "  I  go,  sir," 
and  yet  they  went  not :  the  publicans 
and  harlots  were  the  first  son  ;  for 
though,  when  bidden,  they  refused,  yet 
afterwards  they  repented  and  went. 

Such  was  evidently  the  import  and 
design  of  the  parable,  as  originally  de- 
livered by  Jesus.  It  is  possible  indeed 
that  there  may  have  been  also  a  refer- 
ence to  the  Jew  and  the  Gentile  ;  the 
two  sons  representing,  as  they  else- 
where do,  these  two  great  divisions  of 
mankind.  The  Jews,  as  a  nation,  were 
aptly  figured  by  the  second  son,  the 
Gentiles  by  the  first.  Both  had  the  same 
father — seeing  that,  however  close  the 
union  between  God  and  the  Jews,  and 
however  the  Gentiles  had  been  left,  for 
centuries,  to  themselves,  there  was  no 
difference  in  origin,  inasmuch  as  the 
whole  race  had  the  same  Lord  for  its 
parent.  And  the  Jews  stood  ready  to 
welcome  their  Messiah  ;  whereas  little 
could  be  expected  from  the  Gentiles, 
sunk  as  they  were  in  ignorance  and 
superstition,  but  that,  if  directed  to  a 
Savior,  they  would  treat  with  contempt 
the  free  offer  of  life.  Here  again  how- 
ever the  event  was  the  reverse  of  the 
expectation.  The  Gospel  made  little 
way  amongst  the  Jews,  where  there 
had  been  every  promise  of  a  cordial 
reception ;    but    rapidly    overran    the 


Gentile  world,  where  there  had  seem- 
ed least  likelihood  of  its  gaining  any 
ground.  So  that  once  more  the  para- 
ble, if  taken  in  the  light  of  a  prophecy, 
was  accurately  fulfilled.  The  Jew,  as 
the  second  son,  had  promised  to  go 
and  work  in  the  vineyard,  and  then 
never  went:  the  Gentile,  as  the  first 
son,  had  peremptorily  refused,  but  af- 
terwards saw  his  error,  and  repented, 
and  obeyed. 

But  whilst  there  may  be  great  jus- 
tice in  thus  giving  the  parable  a  ra- 
tional, or  temporary  application,  our 
chief  business  is  to  treat  it,  according 
to  our  introductory  remarks,  as  de- 
scriptive of  two  classes  in  every  age 
of  the  church.  It  is  this  which  we 
shall  now  proceed  to  do,  believing  that 
it  furnishes,  in  a  more  than  common 
degree,  the  material  of  interesting  and 
instructive  discourse. 

Now  it  is  a  very  frequent  image  in 
Scripture,  that  which  represents  the 
Church  of  Christ  as  a  vineyard,  and 
ourselves  as  laborers  who  have  been 
hired  to  work  in  that  vineyard.  We 
shall  not,  on  the  present  occasion,  en- 
large on  this  image,  nor  take  pains  to 
show  you  its  beauty  and  fidelity.  We 
shall  find  enough  to  engage  us  in  the 
other  parts  of  the  parable,  and  may 
therefore  assume  what  you  are  proba- 
bly all  prepared  to  admit.  We  go  then 
at  once  to  the  message  which  is  deliv- 
ered to  each  of  the  sons,  "  Son,  go 
work  to-day  in  my  vineyard."  It  is 
precisely  the  message,  which.  Sabbath 
after  Sabbath,  is  uttered  in  God's  name 
by  the  ordained  ministers  of  Christ. 
We  are  never  at  liberty  to  make  you 
any  offers  for  to-morrow,  but  must 
always  tell  you,  that,  "  if  to-day  you 
will  hear  his  voice,"  he  is  ready  to 
receive  you  into  the  vineyard  of  his 
church.  And  it  is  not  to  a  life  of  inac- 
tivity and  idleness  that  we  are  bidden 
to  summon  you,  not  to  that  inert  de- 
pendence on  the  merits  of  another, 
which  shall  exclude  all  necessity  for 
personal  striving.  We  call  you,  on  the 
contrary,  to  work  in  the  vineyard.  If 
you  think  to  be  saved  without  labor  ; 
if  you  imagine,  that,  because  Christ 
has  done  all  that  is  necessary,  in  the 
way  of  merit,  there  remains  nothing 
to  be  done  by  yourselves  in  the  way 
of  condition,  you  are  yielding  to  a  de- 
lusion which  must   be  as  wilful  as  it 


204- 


THE    TWO    SONS. 


will  be  fatal — the  whole  tenor  of  Scrip- 
ture unreservedly  declaring,  that,  if 
you  would  enter  into  life,  you  must 
"  work  out  your  salvation  with  fear 
and  trembling."  And  thus  the  mes- 
sage, "  Son,  go  work  to-day  in  my 
vineyard,"  is,  in  every  respect,  that 
which  God  is  continually  addressing 
to  you  through  the  mouth  of  his  min- 
istering servants,  a  message  declara- 
torj'^  that  ''  now  is  the  accepted  time," 
and  requiring  you  to  put  forth  every 
energy  that  you  may  escape  "  the  wrath 
to  come." 

And  now  the  question  is,  as  to  the  re- 
ception with  which  this  message  meets ; 
and  whether  there  be  not  two  great 
classes  of  its  hearers  who  are  accurate- 
ly represented  by  the  two  sons  in  the 
parable.  We  do  not  pretend  to  affirm, 
as  we  have  already  intimated,  that  the 
whole  mass  of  unconverted  men  may 
fairly  be  resolved  under  the  two  divi- 
sions thus  figuratively  drawn.  We  are 
well  aware  of  the  prevalence  of  an  in- 
difference and  apathy,  which  can  hardly 
be  roused  to  any  kind  of  answer,  either 
to  a  specious  promise,  made  only  to  be 
broken,  or  to  a  harsh  refusal  which  may 
perhaps  be  turned  into  compliance.  But 
without  pretending  to  include  all  under 
these  divisions,  we  may  and  do  believe 
that  the  multitude  is  very  large  which 
maybe  thus  defined  and  classified.  We 
suppose,  that,  after  all,  most  way  is 
made  by  the  preachers  of  the  Gospel 
Avhen  there  seems  least  prospect  of 
success  ;  and  that,  as  it  was  in  the  days 
when  Christ  was  on  earth,  those  who 
promise  fairest  give  most  disappoint- 
ment, whilst  the  harvest  is  reaped  where 
we  looked  only  for  sterility.  This  how- 
ever is  a  matter  which  should  be  care- 
fully examined,  and  we  shall  therefore 
employ  the  remainder  of  our  discourse 
in  considering  separately  the  cases  of 
the  two  sons,  beginning  with  that  of 
the  second,  who  said,  "  1  go,  sir,  and 
went  not,"  and  then  proceeding  to  that 
of  the  first,  who  said,  "  I  will  not,  but 
afterward  he  repented,  and  went." 

Now  there  is  in  many  men  a  warmth 
of  natural  feeling,  and  a  great  suscep- 
tibility, which  make  them  promising 
subjects  for  any  stirring  and  touching 
appeal.  They  are  easily  excited;  and 
both  their  fears  and  sympathies  will 
readily  answer  to  a  powerful  address, 
or  a  sorrowful  narrative.  They  are  not 


made  of  that  harsh  stuff  which  seems 
the  predominant  element  in  many  men's 
constitutions  ;  but,  on  the  contrarj',  are 
yielding  and  malleable,  as  though  the 
moral  artificer  might  work  them,  with- 
out difficulty,  into  what  shape  he  would. 
We  are  well  convinced  that  there  are 
many  who  answer  this  description  in 
every  congregation,  and  therefore  in 
the  present.  It  is  far  from  our  feeling, 
that,  when  we  put  forth  all  our  earnest- 
ness in  some  appeal  to  the  conscience, 
or  come  down  upon  you  with  our  warm- 
est entreaty,  that  you  would  accept  the 
deliverance  proposed  by  the  Gospel,  we 
are  heard  on  all  sides  with  coldness 
and  indifference.  We  have  quite  the  '■ 
opposite  feeling.  We  do  not  doubt,  that, 
as  the  appeal  goes  forward,  and  the  en- 
treaty is  pressed,  there  are  some  who 
are  conscious  of  a  warmth  of  senti- 
ment, and  a  melting  of  heart;  and  in 
whom  there  is  excited  so  much  of  a 
determination  to  forsake  sin,  and  obey 
God,  that,  if  we  could  ply  each  with 
the  command,  "  go,  work  to-day  in  my 
vineyard,"  we  should  receive  a  pro- 
mise of  immediate  compliance." 

It  is  not  that  these  men  or  these  wo- 
men are  undergoing  a  change  of  heart, 
though  there  may  be  that  in  the  feelings 
thus  excited,  which,  fairly  followed  out, 
would  lead  to  a  thorough  renovation. 
It  is  only  that  they  are  made  of  a  ma- 
terial on  which  it  is  very  easy  to  work; 
but  which,  alas,  if  it  have  great  facility 
in  receiving  impressions,  may  have  just 
as  much  in  allowing  them  to  be  effaced. 
And  what  is  done  by  a  faithful  sermon 
is  done  also  bj'  providential  dispensa- 
tions, when  God  addresses  these  par- 
ties through  some  affliction  or  bereave- 
ment. If  you  visit  them,  when  death 
has  entered  their  households,  you  find 
nothing  of  the  harshness  and  reserve 
of  sullen  grief;  but  all  that  openness 
to  counsel,  and  all  that  readiness  to  own 
the  mercy  of  the  judgment  which  eeem 
indicative  of  such  a  softening  of  the 
heart  as  promises  to  issue  in  its  genu- 
ine conversion.  If  you  treat  the  chas- 
tisement under  which  they  labor  as  a 
message  from  God,  and  translate  it  thus 
into  common  language,  "  Son,  go  work 
to-day  in  my  vineyard,"  you  meet  with 
no  signs  of  dislike  or  reluctance,  but 
rather  with  a  ready  assent  that  you  give  ^ 
the  true  meaning,  and  with  a  frank  reso-  'JJ 
lution  that  God  shall  not  speak  in  vain. 


THE    TWO    SONS. 


205 


We  put  it  to  yourselves  to  determine 
■whether  we  are  not  describing  a  com- 
mon case  5  whether,  if  you  could  dis- 
sect our  congregations,  you  Avould  not 
find  a  large  mass  of  persons  who  seem 
quite  accessible  to  moral  attack  ;  whom 
you  may  easily  startle  by  a  close  ad- 
dress to  the  conscience,  or  overcome 
by  a  pathetic  and  plaintive  description; 
and  on  whom  when  affliction  falls,  it 
falls  with  that  subduing  and  penetrating 
power  which  gives  room  for  hope  that 
it  will  bring  them  to  repentance.  And 
wheresoever  these  cases  occur,  they 
may  evidently,  so  far  as  we  have  gone, 
be  identified  with  that  of  the  second 
son  in  the  parable  ;  for  whilst  the  ad- 
dress to  the  parties  is  one  which  urges 
to  the  working  in  the  vineyard,  their 
answer  has  all  the  promise,  and  all  the 
respectfulness,  contained  in  the  ''  I  go, 
sir,"  of  our  test. 

But  the  accuracy  of  the  delineation 
does  not    end    here.    We  must  follow 
these  excited  listeners  from  the  place 
of    assembling,      and     these     subdued 
mourners  from  the  scene  of  affliction,  j 
Alas,  how  soon  is  it  apparent  that  what 
is  easily  roused  may  be  as  easily  lulled ; 
and  that  you  have  only  to  remove  the  j 
incumbent  weight,  and  the  former  figure  i 
is  regained.    The  men  who  have  been' 
all  attention  to  the  preacher,  whom  he  1 
seemed    to    have    brought   completely  I 
under    command,    so   that    they    were  1 
ready  to  follow  him  whithersoever  he 
would  lead,  settle  back  into  their  list- 
lessness  when  the  stimulant  of  the  ser- 
mon is  withdrawn  ;  and  those,  whom 
the  fires  of  calamity  appeared  to  have 
melted,   harden   rapidly  into  their  old 
constitution  when  time  has  somewhat 
damped  the  intenseness  of  the  flame. 
The  melancholy  truth  is,  that  the  whole 
assault  has  been  on  their  natural  sensi- 
bilities, on  their  animal  feelings  ;  and 
that  nothing    like    spiritual   solicitude 
has  been  produced,  whether  by  the  ser- 
mon or  the  sorrow.    They  have  given 
much  cause  for  hope,  seeing  they  have 
displayed  susceptibility,  and  thus  shown 
themselves    capable   of  moral  impres- 
sions.   But  they  have  disappointed  ex- 
pectation, because  they  have  taken  no 
pains  to  distinguish  between  an  instinct 
of  nature  and  a  work  of  God's  Spirit, 
or  rather,  because   they  have  allowed 
their  feelings  to  evaporate  in  the  form- 
ing a  resolution,  and  have  not  set  them- 


selves prayerfully  to  the  carrying  it 
into  effect.  And  thus  it  comes  to  pass 
that  men,  on  whom  preaching  seemed 
to  have  taken  great  hold,  as  though 
they  were  moved  by  the  terrors,  and 
animated  by  the  hopes  of  Christianity ; 
or  whom  the  visitations  of  Providence 
appeared  to  have  brought  to  humility 
and  contrition;  make  no  advances  in 
the  religion  of  the  heart,  but  falsify 
the  hopes  which  those  who  wish  their 
salvation  have  ventured  to  cherish. 
And  when  surprise  is  expressed,  and 
the  reason  is  demanded,  the  only  reply 
is,  that  there  is  yet  a  large  class  in  the 
world,  too  faithfully  delmeated  by  the 
second  son,  who,  when  bidden  by  his 
father  to  go  work  in  the  vineyard,  an- 
swered, "  I  go,  sir,"  and  went  not. 

You  may  think,  however,  that  we 
have  not  adduced  precisely  the  case 
intended  by  the  parable,  inasmuch  as 
these  susceptible,  but  unstable,  per- 
sons are  not  of  the  same  class  with  the 
chief  priests  and  elders.  The  second 
son  was  originally  designed  to  denote 
the  leading  men  among  the  Jews  ;  and, 
therefore,  in  seeking  his  present  repre- 
sentatives, we  seem  bound  to  look  for 
similarity  to  those  to  whom  Christ  ad- 
dressed the  parable.  This  is  so  far 
true,  that,  although  it  impeaches  not 
the  accuracy  of  what  has  been  advan- 
ced, it  makes  it  necessary  for  us  to  con- 
tinue our  examination,  lest  we  bring 
within  too  narrow  limits  the  class  of 
men  described. 

We  have  already  hinted  that  there 
lie  the  g-reatest  obstacles  to  the  recep- 
tion of^'the  Gospel,  where,  at  first,  we 
might  have  hoped  for  most  rapid  suc- 
cess. Thus  with  the  chief  priests  and 
Pharisees.  There  was  the  most  rigid 
attention  to  all  the  externals  of  religion, 
a  professed  readiness  to  submit  to  the 
revealed  will  of  God,  and  an  apparent 
determination  to  receive  Christ,  so  soon 
as  he  should  be  manifested.  Yet  all 
this,  as  we  have  shown  you,  was  no- 
thing more  than  the  saying,  "  I  go,  sir ;" 
for  when  Christ  actually  came,  they 
were  displeased  at  his  lowliness,  and 
would  not  join  him  as  their  King  and 
their  Savior.  And  we  are  bound  to  say 
that  we  know  not  more  unpromising 
subjects  for  the  preaching  of  the  Gos- 
pel, than  those  who  are  punctiliously 
attentive  to  the  forms  of  religion,  and 
who  attach  a  worth  and  a  merit  to  their 


205 


THE    TWO    SONS. 


careful  performance  of  certain  moral 
duties.  We  cannot  have  a  more  unpa- 
latable truth  to  deliver — but  wo  is  unto 
us  if  we  dare  to  keep  it  back — than  that 
which  exposes  the  utter  insufficiency 
of  the  best  human  righteousness,  and 
which  tells  men,  who  are  amiable  and 
charitable,  and  moral  and  upright,  that, 
with  all  their  excellencies,  they  may  be 
further  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
than  the  dissolute  whom  they  regard 
with  absolute  loathing.  The  immedi- 
ate feeling  is,  that  we  confound  virtue 
and  vice  ;  and  that,  allowing  no  supe- 
riority to  what  is  lovely  and  of  good 
report,  we  represent  God  as  indifferent 
to  moral  conduct,  and  thus  undermine 
the  foundations  on  which  society  rests. 
But  we  are  open  to  no  such  charge. 
We  are  quite  alive  to  the  beauty  and 
advantageousness  of  that  moral  excel- 
lence which  does  not  spring  from  a 
principle  of  religion,  nay,  which  may 
even  oppose  the  admission  of  the  pecu- 
liar doctrines  of  Christianity.  There  is 
not  a  man  for  whom  we  have  a  greater 
feeling  of  interest,  because  there  is  not 
one  of  whom  naturally  we  have  a  great- 
er admiration,  than  for  him  who  is  pass- 
ing through  life  with  an  unblemished 
reputation,  sedulously  attentive  to  all 
the  relative  duties,  and  taking  gene- 
rously the  lead  in  efforts  to  ameliorate 
the  condition  of  his  fellows,  but  who, 
all  the  while,  has  no  consciousness  of 
his  own  sinfulness,  and  who  therefore 
rests  on  his  own  works,  and  not  on 
Christ's  merits.  If  you  compare  this 
man  with  a  dissolute  character,  one 
who  is  outraging  the  laws  of  society 
and  the  feelings  of  humanity ;  and  if 
you  judge  the  two  merely  with  refer- 
ence to  the  present  scene  of  being; 
why,  there  is  the  widest  possible  dif- 
ference ;  and  to  speak  of  the  one  as 
equally  depraved,  and  equally  vile,  with 
the  other,  would  be  an  overcharged 
statement,  carrying  its  own  confu- 
tation. 

But  what  is  there  to  prove  that  there 
may  not  be  just  as  much  rebellion 
against  God  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other ;  and  that  the  man  whose  whole 
deportment  is  marked  by  what  is  praise- 
worthy and  beneficial,  may  not  be  as 
void  of  all  love  towards  the  Author  of 
his  being,  as  he  who,  by  his  vices  and 
villany,  draws  upon  himself  the  execra- 
tions of  a  neighborhood  1  Try  men  as 


members  of  society,  and  they  are  as 
widely  separated  as  the  poles  of  the 
earth.  But  try  them  as  God's  crea- 
tures, not  their  own,  but  "  bought  with 
a  price,"  and  you  may  bring  them  to 
the  same  level,  or  even  prove  the  mo- 
ral and  amiable  further  alienated  than 
the  dissolute  and  repulsive.  Yes,  fur- 
ther alienated.  It  is  a  hard  saying,  but 
we  cannot  pare  it  away.  These  up- 
right and  charitable  men,  on  whom  a 
world  is  lavishing  its  applause,  how 
will  they  receive  us,  when  we  come 
and  tell  them  that  they  are  sinners, 
who  have  earned  for  themselves  eter- 
nal destruction  ;  and  that  they  are  no 
more  secured  against  the  ruin  by  their 
rectitude  and  philanthropy,  than  if  they 
were  the  slaves  of  every  vice,  and  the 
patrons  of  every  crime  1  May  Ave  not 
speak  of,  at  least,  a  high  probability, 
that  they  will  be  disgusted  at  a  state- 
ment which  makes  so  light  of  their  ex- 
cellence ;  and  that  they  Avill  turn  away 
from  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  as  too 
humiliating  to  be  true,  or  as  only  con- 
structed for  the  very  refuse  of  man- 
kind! 

Oh,  we  again  say  that  we  hardly 
know  a  more  hopeless  task  than  that 
of  bringing  the  Gospel  to  bear  on  an 
individual  who  is  trenched  about  with 
self-righteousness.  If  we  are  dealing 
with  the  openly  immoral  man,  we  can 
take  the  thunders  of  the  law,  and  bat- 
ter at  his  conscience.  We  know  well 
enough,  that,  in  his  case,  there  is  a 
voice  within  which  answers  to  the 
voice  from  without;  and  that,  however 
he  may  harden  himself  against  our  re- 
monstrance, there  is,  at  least,  no  so- 
phistry by  which  he  can  persuade  him- 
self that  he  is  not  a  sinner.  This  is  a 
great  point  secured  :  we  occupy  a  van- 
tage-ground, from  which  we  may  di- 
rect, with  full  power,  all  our  moral  ar- 
tillery. But  when  we  deal  with  the 
man  who  is  amiable,  and  estimable,  and 
exemplary,  but  who,  nevertheless,  is  a 
stranger  to  the  motives  of  the  Gospel, 
our  very  first  assertion — for  this  must 
be  our  first;  we  cannot  advance  a  step 
till  this  preliminary  is  felt  and  conced- 
ed— the  assertion,  that  the  man  is  a 
sinner,  deserving  only  hell,  arms  against 
us  his  every  antipathy,  and  is  almost 
certain  to  call  up  such  a  might  of  op- 
position, that  we  are  at  once  repulsed 
as  unworthy  further  hearing. 


THE    TWO    SONS. 


207 


And  how  agrees  this  too  frequent 
case  with  the  sketching  of  our  parable  1 
We  look  upon  men,  whose  virtues  make 
them  the  ornaments  of  society,  and 
whose  zealous  attention  to  the  various 
duties  o{  life  deservedly  secures  them 
respect  and  esteem.  You  would  gather 
from  their  deportment,  from  their  ap- 
parent readiness  to  discharge  faithfully 
every  known  obligation,  that  the  set- 
ting before  them  what  God  requires 
at  their  hands  would  suffice  to  secure 
their  unwearied  obedience.  If  you  say 
to  them,  in  the  name  of  the  Almighty, 
"  Son,  go  work  to-day  in  my  vine- 
yard," their  answer,  as  furnished  by  all 
that  seeming  desire  to  act  rightly  which 
has  forced  itself  on  your  attention,  is 
one  of  sincere  and  hearty  compliance. 
But  so  soon  as  they  come  to  know 
what  working  in  the  vineyard  means, 
alas,  it  is  with  them  as  it  was  with  the 
pharisees  and  scribes,  who,  with  every 
profession  that  they  waited  for  Mes- 
siah, no  sooner  saw  him  ''  without  form 
or  comeliness,"  than  they  scornfully 
refused  to  give  him  their  allegiance. 
These  self-righteous  men  are  ready 
enough  to  work,  because  it  is  by  works 
of  their  own  that  they  think  to  gain 
heaven.  But  when  they  find  that  their 
great  work  is  to  be  the  renouncing 
their  own  works,  and  that  the  vineyard, 
in  which  you  invite  them  to  labor,  is 
one  in  which  man's  chief  toil  is  to 
humble  himself,  that  Christ  may  be  ex- 
alted— this  gives  the  matter  altogether 
a  new  aspect;  they  would  labor  at  build- 
ing the  tower  of  Babel,  but  they  have 
no  idea  of  laboring  at  pulling  it  down. 

And  thus  does  it  come  to  pass,  that 
the  ministers  of  the  Gospel  are  repulsed 
with  a  more  than  common  vehemence ; 
and  that  their  message  is  thrown  back, 
as  though  the  delivering  it  had  been  an 
insult.  We  can  but  mourn  over  men, 
who,  with  every  thing  to  recommend 
them  to  their  fellows,  honorable  in 
their  dealings,  large  in  their  charities, 
true  in  their  friendships,  are  yet  dis- 
honest to  themselves  and  false  to  their 
God — dishonest  to  themselves,  for  they 
put  a  cheat  on  their  souls;  false  to 
their  God,  for  they  give  him  not  what 
he  asks,  and  all  else  is  worse  than  no- 
thing. Yes,  we  could  lament,  with  a 
deeper  than  the  ordinary  lamentation 
which  should  be  poured  over  every 
lost  soul,  when  integrity  and  generosity. 


and  patriotism  and  disinterestedness, 
all  beautiful  and  splendid  things,  have 
only  helped  to  confirm  men  in  rejec- 
tion of  the  Gospel,  and  have  strength- 
ened that  dislike  to  the  peculiar  doc- 
trines of  Christianity,  which  is  natural 
to  the  heart,  but  which  must  be  expel- 
led, else  we  perish.  And  when  we  are 
asked  whether  it  can  indeed  be,  that 
men,  so  amiable  and  admirable,  who 
have  a  yearning  heart  for  every  tale 
of  sorrow,  and  an  open  hand  for  every 
case  of  destitution,  and  an  instinctive 
aversion  to  whatever  is  mean  and  de- 
grading, are  treading  the  downward 
path  which  leads  to  the  chambers  of 
everlasting  death,  we  can  only  say  that 
the  very  qualities  which  seem  to  you 
to  mark  a  fitness  for  heaven,  have  pre- 
vented the  passage  through  that  strait 
gate  of  the  vineyard^  which  is  wide 
enough  for  every  sinner,  but  too  nar- 
row for  any  sin ;  and  that  thus  has  been 
paralleled  the  whole  case  of  the  second 
son,  who  said  to  his  father,  "  I  go,  sir," 
and  went  not. 

And  now  we  must  have  said  enough 
to  convince  you  that  the  delineation  of 
our  parable  is  not  local  or  temporary, 
but  may  justly  He  extended  to  all  ages 
of  the  church.  We  make  this  assertion, 
because  though,  as  yet,  we  have  only 
examined  the  case  of  one  son,  our  re- 
marks have  had  an  indirect  bearing  on 
that  of  the  other.  We  have  shown  you 
that  the  obstacles  to  the  reception  of 
the  truths  of  the  Gospel  are  often 
greatest  where  appearances  seem  to 
augur  the  readiest  welcome.  Where 
the  promise  is  most  freely  given,  how 
frequently  is  the  performance  withheld. 
And  though  the  converse  of  this  may 
not  be  necessarily  true,  namely,  that, 
where  we  have  refusal  at  first,  we  may 
expect  ultimate  compliance,  yet,  un- 
doubtedly the  case  of  the  second  son 
prepares  us  to  feel  no  surprise  at  that 
of  the  first.  If  there  be  final  refusal, 
where  there  is  most  of  present  con- 
sent, it  can  be  no  ways  strange  that 
there  should  be  final  consent,  where 
there  is  most  of  present  refusal. 

This  it  is  which  is  represented  to  us 
in  the  instance  of  the  first  son.  His  fa- 
ther came  to  him,  and  said,  "  Son,  go 
work  to-day  in  my  vineyard."  "He  an- 
swered and  said,  1  will  not ;  but  after- 
ward he  repented  and  went."  There 
could  be  nothing  more  discourteous, 


20S 


THE    TWO   SONS. 


as  well  as  nothing  more  peremptory, 
than  the  reply.  He  addresses  his  fa- 
ther with  nothing  of  that  respectful 
language  which  the  second  son  used, 
and  which  might  at  least  have  soften- 
ed the  refusal.  There  is  a  harshness 
and  bluntness  in  the  answer,  which,  in- 
dependently of  the  disobedience,  prov- 
ed him  of  a  churlish  and  unmanagea- 
ble temper.  And  we  know,  from  the 
application  which  Christ  himself  made 
of  the  parable,  that  this  first  son  is  the 
representative  of  those  more  depraved 
and  profligate  characters,  who  make 
no  profession  of  religion,  but  treat  it 
with  open  contempt.  There  are  mnny 
who  will  even  go  the  length  of  boldly 
proclaiming  their  resolve  to  live  "with- 
out God  in  the  world,"  who  glory  in 
their  shame ;  and  who  think  it  for 
their  credit,  as  marking  a  free  and  un- 
shackled spirit,  that  they  have  got  rid 
of  the  restraints  which  the  dread  of 
future  punishment  imposes.  Others 
again,  who  have  not  hardened  them- 
selves to  this  desperate  degree,  seem 
yet  wholly  inaccessible  to  warning  and 
reproof;  for  they  have,  at  least,  per- 
suaded themselves  that  they  shall  have 
a  long  lease  of  life,  an€  that  it  will  be 
soon  enough  at  the  eleventh  hour  to 
go  and  work  in  the  vineyard.  And  in 
all  such  cases,  whether  we  meet  with 
the  contemptuousness  of  unblushing 
immorality,  or  the  coldness  of  deter- 
mined indifierence,  we  have  the  un- 
qualified refusal  which  the  first  son 
gave  his  father — sometimes  in  a  harsh- 
er, and  at  otlier  times  in  a  milder  tone 
— but  ahvays  the  "  I  will  not,"  which 
seems  to  preclude  all  hope  of  obedi- 
ence. 

These  are  the  cases  which  seem 
most  calculated  to  dispirit  a  minister; 
for  it  is  even  more  disheartening  to 
find  that  he  makes  no  impression,  than 
that,  where  it  has  been  made,  it  has 
been  quickly  eflaced.  It  is  manifestly 
only  the  treacherous  nature  of  the  sur- 
face, which  is  in  fault  in  the  latter 
case ;  but  in  the  former,  he  may  fear 
that  much  of  the  blame  is  chargeable 
on  his  own  want  of  energy  in  wielding 
his  weapons.  He  may  even,  in  mo- 
ments of  despondency,  be  wrought  in- 
to a  suspicion  that  these  weapons  are 
not  as  mighty  as  he  had  been  instruct- 
ed to  believe.  And  therefore  it  is  a 
marvellously  cheering  thing  to  be  told 


of  the  first  son,  that,  "  afterward  he  re- 
pented and  went."  We  do  not  believe 
that  the  precious  seed  of  the  word  is 
all  lost,  because  there  is  no  immediate 
harvest.  We  remember  that  great 
principle  in  God's  dealings,  which  is 
announced  by  St.  Paul,  "That  which 
thou  sowest  is  not  quickened,  except  it 
first  die."  It  is  often,  we  are  persuaded, 
in  spiritual  things,  as  it  is  always  in 
natural — the  grain  is  long  buried,  and, 
to  all  appearance,  lost ;  but  then  sud- 
denly come  the  signs  of  vegetation, 
and  the  soil  is  pierced  by  the  fresh 
green  blade. 

We  now  address  ourselves  to  those 
amongst  you  who  have  never  entered 
the  vineyard,  who  have  never  broken 
up  the  fallow  ground,  and  sown  to 
themselves  in  righteousness.  W^e  know 
not  whether  the  number  who  fall  under 
this  description  be  great  or  small ;  nor 
whether  it  be  mainly  composed  of  those 
living  in  open  sin,  or  of  those  who  are 
only  indiflerent  to  the  high  claims  of 
religion.  But  we  say  to  these  men,  and 
these  women,  go,  work  to-day  in  the 
vineyard.  We  call  upon  them,  and  en- 
treat them,  that,  whilst  God  yet  strives 
with  them  by  his  Spirit,  and  the  free 
offer  of  salvation  is  made  them  in  his 
name,  they  would  consider  their  ways, 
and  turn  unto  the  Lord,  lest  the  evil 
day  come  upon  them  "  as  a  thief."  We 
anticipate  what  will  be  practically  their 
answer.  There  may  indeed  be  a  soli- 
tary exception.  Even  now  may  there 
be  the  casting  down  of  some  strong- 
hold of  unbelief;  and  there  may  be  one 
in  this  assembly,  in  whom  our  word  is 
working  energetically,  convincing  him 
of  sin,  and  persuading  him  to  make 
trial  of  Christ's  power  to  save.  But 
from  the  mass  of  those  whom  the  first 
son  represents,  we  can  look  for  nothing 
but  his  answer  ;  and  if  we  could  single 
out  the  individuals,  and  bid  them  to  the 
vineyard,  "I  will  not"  would  be  but 
too  faithful  an  account  of  their  reply. 
And  yet  we  do  not  necessarily  con- 
clude that  we  have  labored  in  vain.  Oh 
no,  far  enough  from  this.  The  word, 
which  we  have  spoken,  may  in  many 
cases  have  gained  a  lodgment,  though 
long  years  niay  elapse  ere  it  put  forth 
its  vigor.  If  we  could  follow,  through 
the  remainder  of  their  lives,  those  with 
whom  we  now  seem  to  plead  wholly  in 
vain,  we  can  feel  that  we  should  find  a 


THE    TWO    SONS. 


209 


day  breaking  upon  some  of  them,  full  of 
the  memory  of  this  very  hour  and  this 
very  sermon ;  and  perceive  that  one 
cause  or  another  had  suddenly  acted 
on  the  seed  now  sown,  so  that  what  we 
supposed  dead  was  rapidly  germina- 
ting. It  is  marvellous  how  often,  in 
sickness  or  in  sorrow,  there  will  rush 
into  the  mind  some  long-forgotten  text, 
some  sentence,  Avhich  was  little  heeded 
when  first  heard,  but  which  settled  it- 
self down  in  the  inner  man,  to  wait  a 
time  when,  like  the  characters  which  a 
mysterious  hand  traced  before  the  As- 
syrian in  his  revels,  it  might  flash  dis- 
may through  every  chamber  of  the  spi- 
rit. The  father's  bidding,  "go  work 
to-day  in  my  vineyard,"  will  rise  into 
remembrance  with  a  sudden  and  over- 
coming energy ;  it  may  not  have  been 
heard  for  years,  it  may  not  have  been 
thought  of  for  years ;  but  when  the 
man  is  brought  low,  and  health  is  fail- 
ing him,  and  friends  are  forsaking  him, 
he  will  seem  to  hear  it,  not  less  distinct- 
ly, and  far  more  thrillingly,  articulated, 
than  when  it  fell  disregarded  from  the 
lips  of  the  preacher;  and  he  will  won- 
der at  his  own  perverseness,  and  weep 
over  his  infatuation. 

We  are  sketching  to  you  no  imagi- 
nary case,  but  one  which  all,  who  have 
opportunities  of  reading  men's  spiritual 
histories,  will  tell  you  is  of  frequent  oc- 
currence. The  son  who  harshly  says, 
"1  will  not,"  remembers  the  command 
and  the  refusal  on  some  long  after  day, 
repents  of  his  sinfulness,  and  hastens 
to  the  vineyard.  The  pathetic  remon- 
strance of  a  parent  with  a  dissolute 
child  is  not  necessarily  thrown  away, 
because  that  child  persists  in  his  disso- 
luteness :  it  may  come  up,  with  all  the 
touching  tones  of  the  well-remembered 
voice,  when  the  parent  has  long  lain  in 
the  grave,  and  work  remorse  and  con- 
trition in  the  prodigal.  The  bold  ad- 
dress of  the  minister  to  some  slave  of 
sensuality  is  not  necessarily  ineffectual, 
because  its  object  departs  unmoved  and 
unchanged,  and  breaks  not  away  from 
the  base  thraldom  in  which  he  is  held. 
That  address  may  ring  in  his  ears,  as 
though  unearthly  voices  syllabled  its 
words,  when  the  minister's  tongue  has 
long  been  mute.  "  He,  being  dead,  yet 
speaketh,"  are  words  which  experience 
marvellously  verifies  in  regard  of  those 
whose  office   it  is  to  rebuke  vice  and 


animate  to  righteousness.  They  may 
be  verified  in  the  instance  of  some 
one  who  now  hears  me.  I  feel  so  en- 
couraged by  the  account  of  the  first 
son,  that  I  could  even  dare  to  prophesy 
the  history  of  one  or  more  in  this  as- 
sembly. There  may  be  some  to  whom 
I  never  before  preached  the  Gospel, 
and  to  whom  I  may  never  preach  it 
again.  I  speak  in  ignorance.  I  know 
not  how  far  this  may  be  true  on  the 
present  occasion.  But  I  can  imagine, 
that,  in  the  throng  which  surrounds 
me,  there  is  one  to  whom  I  speak  for 
the  first  time,  and  who  will  never  see 
me  again  till  we  meet  at  the  judgment- 
seat  of  Christ.  He  may  be  in  the  vigor 
of  his  youth,  life  opening  attractively 
before  him,  and  the- world  wearing  all 
that  freshness  and  fairness  with  which 
it  beguiles  the  unwary.  And  he  will 
have  no  ear  for  the  summonses  of  re- 
ligion. It  is  in  the  name  of  the  God  of 
the  whole  earth  that  I  conjure  him  to 
mortify  the  flesh,  and  fasten  his  afiec- 
tions  on  things  above.  It  is  by  his 
own  majesty,  his  own  dignity,  as  an 
immortal  being,  that  I  would  stir  him 
to  the  abandoning  all  low  pursuits,  and 
engaging  in  the  sublime  duties  of  righ- 
teousness. But  he  will  not  be  persua- 
ded. He  has  made  his  election :  and, 
when  he  departs  from  the  house  of 
God,  it  will  be  to  return  to  the  scenes 
and  companions  of  his  thoughtlessness 
and  dissipation.  Yet  I  do  not  despair  of 
this  man.  I  do  not  conclude  my  labor 
thrown  away.  I  am  looking  forward  to 
an  hour,  which  may  be  yet  very  distant, 
when  experience  will  have  taught  him 
the  worthlessness  of  what  he  now  seeks, 
or  a  broken  constitution  have  incapaci- 
tated him  for  his  most  cherished  plea- 
sures. The  hour  may  not  come  whilst  I 
am  on  the  earth  ;  I  may  have  long  be- 
fore departed,  and  a  stranger  may  be 
ministering  in  my  place.  But  I  shall  be 
in  that  man's  chamber,  and  I  shall  stand 
at  his  bed'side,  and  I  shall  repeat  my 
now  despised  exhortation.  There  will 
be,  as. it. were,  a  resurrection  of  the 
present  scene  and  the  present  sermon. 
The  words,  which  now  hardly  gain  a 
hearing,  but  which,  nevertheless,  are 
burying  themselves  in  the  recesses  of 
the  mind,  that  they  may  wait  an  ap- 
pointed season,  will  be  spoken  to  the 
very  soul,  and  penetrate  to  the  quick, 
and  produce  that  godly  sorrow  which 
27 


210 


THE    DISPERSION    AND    RESTOSATION    OF    THE    JEWS, 


worketh  repentance.  And  when  you 
ask  me  upon  what  I  am  bold  enough 
to  ground  such  a  prophecy,  and  from 
what  data  I  venture  to  predict  that 
my  sermon  shall  not  die,  but,  though 
long  forgotten,  start  finally  into  power 
and  persuasiveness — my  reply  is,  that 
the  case  of  the  first  son  in  the  para- 
ble must  have  cases  which  correspond 
to  it  in  all  ages  of  the  church,  and 
that  we  read  of  this  son,  that,  though 
he  refused,  when  bidden,  to  work  in 
the  vineyard,  yet  "afterward  he  re- 
pented and  went." 

There  are  two  cautions  suggested  by 
this  latter  part  of  our  subject,  and  with 
these  we  would  conclude.  The  first  is  to 
parents,  and  guardians,  and  ministers ;  in 
short,  to  all  whose  business  it  may  be 
to  counsel  and  instruct.  Let  not  the 
apparent  want  of  success  induce  you  to 
relax  in  your  endeavors.  You  see  that 
he  who  gives  you  a  flat  refusal,  may 
ultimately  reward  you  better  than  he 
who  gives  you  a  fair  promise.  Be  not, 
therefore,  disheartened  ;  but  rather  act 
on  the  wise  man's  advice,  "  In  the  morn- 
ing sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening 
withhold  not  thy  hand  ;  for  thou  know- 
est  not  whether  shall  prosper,  either 


'  this  or  that,  or  whether  they  both  shall 
be  alike  good." 

Our  second  caution  is  to  those  who 
may  be  ready,  with  the  first  son,  to  give 
a  direct  refusal,  when  bidden  to  go 
and  work  in  the  vineyard.  Let  not  the 
thought,  that  you  may  afterwards  repent, 
encourage  you  in  your  determination 
that  you  will  not  yet  obey.  The  man  who 
presumes  on  what  is  told  us  of  the  first 
son  will  never,  in  all  probability,  be  re- 
presented by  that  son.  I  may  have 
hopes  of  a  man  whose  moral  slumbers 
I  cannot  at  all  break ;  I  almost  despair 
of  a  man  whom  I  can  so  far  awaken 
that  he  makes  a  resolution  to  delay. 
The  determining  to  put  off  is  the  worst 
of  all  symptoms :  it  shows  that  con- 
science has  been  roused,  and  then  pa- 
cified; and  wo  unto  the  man  who  has 
drugs  with  which  he  can  lull  conscience 
to  sleep.-  Again  therefore  we  tell  you 
that  the  exhortation  of  the  text  is  lim- 
ited as  to  time.  "  Go,  work  to-day  in 
my  vineyard."  To-morrow  the  pulse 
may  be  still,  and  there  is  "  no  work  nor 
wisdom  in  the  grave."  To-day  ye  are 
yet  amongst  the  living,  and  may  enroll 
yourselves  with  the  laborers  whose 
harvest  shall  be  immortality. 


SERMON. 


THE    DISPERSION   AND  RESTORATION   OF    THE   JEWS.' 


"O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  kiilesl  the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  which  are  sent  unto 
thee,  how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her 
chickens  under  her  wings,  and  ye  would  not '  Behold,  your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate. 
For  I  say  unto  you,  ye  shall  not  sec  me  henceforth  till  ye  shall  say,  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord."— St.  Matthew,  23  :  37,  38,  39. 


These  words  occur  in  the  Gospel  of  undoubtedly  diflerent.  As  given  by  St. 
St.  Luke,  as  well  as  in  that  of  St.  Mat-  ,  Luke,  they  form  part  of  Christ's  an- 
thew;  but  the  times  of  delivery  were  I  swer  to  certain  Pharisees,  who  had 
— I  come  to  him  with  intelligence  that  He- 

•  Preached  on  behalf  of  the  London  Society  rod  sought  to  kill  him.  At  this  time, 
for  the  conversion  of  the  Jews.  I  ^s  it  would  seem,  our  Savior  was  mak- 


THE   DISPERSION    AND    RESTORATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


211 


ing  his  last  circuit  of  Galilee,  before 
his  arrival  at  Jerusalem  at  the  fourth 
passover.  But,  as  given  by  St.  Mat- 
thew, the  words  appear  to  have  been 
the  last  which  Christ  uttered  in  public, 
having  been  delivered  just  before  his 
final  departure  from  the  temple,  on  the 
evening,  most  probably,  of  the  Wed- 
nesday in  Passion-week.  You  cannot 
have  any  doubt,  if  you  compare  the 
passages  in  the  two  Evangelists,  that 
the  words  were  uttered  on  very  differ- 
ent occasions,  so  that,  if  what  they 
contain  of  prophecy  may  have  had  a 
seeming  accomplishment  between  the 
two  deliveries,  we  should  still  have  to 
search  for  an  ampler  fulfilment. 

We  make  this  remark,  because,  as 
you  must  all  remember,  when  Christ 
made  his  public  entry  into  Jerusalem 
from  Bethany,  a  few  days  before  his 
crucifixion,  he  was  attended  by  a  great 
multitude,  who  saluted  him  in  the  lan- 
guage of  our  text.  ''And  they  that 
went  before,  and  that  followed,  cried, 
saying,  Hosanna,  blessed  is  he  that 
cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 
Had  our  text  been  found  only  in  St. 
Luke,  delivered  on  an  occasion  which 
preceded  the  triumphant  reception  of 
Christ,  it  might  have  been  argued  that 
what  occurred  at  this  reception  fulfill- 
ed all  its  prophecy.  Yet  it  would  then 
have  been  easy  to  show  that  Christ 
must  have  referred  to  some  more  per- 
manent reception  of  himself  than  that 
given  by  an  inconstant  multitude,  who, 
within  a  few  days,  were  as  vehement 
in  demanding  his  crucifixion  as  they 
had  been  in  shouting  Kosanna.  We  are 
however  spared  the  necessity  of  ad- 
vancing, or  pressing,  this  argument,  in- 
asmuch as  the  words,  as  recorded  by 
St.  Matthew,  were  uttered  subsequent- 
ly to  Christ's  entry  into  Jerusalem,  and 
could  not,  therefore,  have  been  fulfill- 
ed by  that  event. 

It  should  further  be  remarked,  that 
the  saying,  "  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  is  taken  from 
a  Psalm,  the  118th,  which  the  Jews 
themselves  interpreted  of  the  Christ. 
It  is  the  Psalm  in  which  are  found  the 
remarkable  words,  "  The  stone  which 
the  builders  refused  is  become  the 
head-stone  of  the  corner"  —  words 
which  Jesus  brought  to  bear  on  the 
chief  priests  and  scribes  when  they 
deprecated    the   taking    the    vineyard 


from  the  unfaithful  husbandmen.  We 
may  therefore  suppose,  that,  in  quoting 
from  this  Psalm,  the  people  designed  to 
express  their  belief  that  Jesus  was 
Messiah.  We  may  further  suppose, 
that,  in  declaring  that  Jerusalem  should 
not  see  him  again,  till  ready  to  apply 
to  him  the  words  he  adduced,  our  Lord 
had  respect  to  some  future  acknow- 
ledgment of  his  kingly  pretensions. 

We  wish  you  to  bear  carefully  with 
you  these  preliminary  observations,  as 
necessary  to  the  settling  the  right  in- 
terpretation of  our  text.  Whatever 
may  be  your  opinion  of  the  import  of 
the  passage,  as  delivered  by  St.  Luke, 
you  can  hardly  fail  to  allow,  that,  as 
delivered  by  St.  Matthew,  it  can  have 
respect  to  no  events  recorded  in  the 
Gospels.  The  words  were  uttered  by 
Christ,  when  concluding  his  public  min- 
istry :  he  left  the  temple  so  soon  as  he 
had  pronounced  them,  and  never  again 
entered  its  precincts.  We  are,  there- 
fore, to  take  the  text  as  Christ's  part- 
ing address  to  his  unbelieving  country- 
men ;  so  that,  in  whatever  degree  they 
are  prophetic,  in  that  same  degree  must 
they  belong  to  occurrences  which  were 
to  follow  his  departure  from  earth. 

Now  it  will  be  admitted  by  you  all, 
that  there  is  something  singularly  pa- 
thetic in  the  text,  when  thus  regarded 
as  the  last  words  of  Christ  to  the  Jews. 
The  Savior  is  taking  his  farewell  of 
those  whom  he  had  striven,  by  every 
means,  to  lead  to  repentance.  He  had 
wrought  the  most  wonderful  miracles, 
and  appealed  to  them  in  proof  that  he 
came  forth  from  God.  He  had  deliver- 
ed the  most  persuasive  discourses,  set- 
ting forth,  under  variety  of  imagery, 
the  ruin  that  would  follow  his  being  re- 
jected, and  offering  the  largest  bless- 
ings to  all  who  would  come  to  him  as 
a  deliverer.  But  all  had  been  in  vain  : 
and  he  knew  that  the  time  was  at  hand, 
when  the  measure  of  guilt  would  be 
filled  up,  and  their  Messiah  be  cruci- 
fied by  the  Jews.  Yet  he  would  not  de- 
part without  another  and  a  bolder  re- 
monstrance. The  chapter,  of  which 
our  text  is  the  conclusion,  and  which, 
as  we  have  already  stated,  is  the  part- 
ing sermon  of  Christ,  is  without  paral- 
lel in  the  Gospels  for  indignant  re- 
buke and  emphatic  denunciation.  The 
preacher  seems,  for  a  while,  to  hnve 
laid  aside  his  meekness,  and  to  have 


212 


THE    DISPERSION    AND    RESTORATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


assumed  the  character  of  a  stern  he- 
rald of  wrath.  And  I  know  not  that 
there  is  any  where  to  be  found  such  a 
specimen  of  lofty  and  withering  elo- 
quence. ,  You  cannot  read  it  without 
emotions  of  awe,  and  almost  of  fear. 
Confronted  fby  those  who,  he  knew, 
thirsted  for  his  blood,  Christ  intrepidly 
charged  them  with  their  crimes,  and 
predicted  their  punishment.  Had  he 
been  invested  witli  all  human  authority, 
in  place  of  standing  as  a  defenceless 
and  despised  individual,  he  could  not 
have  uttered  a  sterner  and  more  heart- 
searching  invective.  The  marvel  is, 
that  his  enemies  should  have  allowed 
him  to  pour  forth  his  tremendous  ora- 
tory, that  they  did  not  fall  upon  him, 
without  regard  to  the  sacredness  of 
the  place,  and  take  a  fierce  and  sum- 
mary revenge.  "  Wo  unto  you,  scribes 
and  pharisees,  hypocrites!"  is  the  bur- 
den of  his  address:  he  reiterates  the 
wo,  till  the  temple  walls  must  have 
rung  with  the  ominous  syllables.  And 
then  he  bids  the  nation  fill  up  the  mea- 
sure of  their  fathers.  Their  fathers  had 
slain  the  prophets,  and  made  great  ad- 
vances towards  that  ripeness  of  iniqui- 
ty which  was  to  mark  the  land  out  as 
ready  for  vengeance.  But  the  national 
guilt  was  not  yet  complete.  There  was 
a  crime  by  which  the  children  were  to 
outdo,  and,  at  the  same  time,  consum- 
mate the  sinfulness  of  their  fathers. 
And  Christ  calls  them  to  the  perpetra- 
tion of  this  crime.  They  were  bent  on 
accomplishing  his  death — let  them  nail 
him  to  the  cross,  and  then  would  their 
guiltiness  reach  its  height,  and  the  ac- 
cumulated vengeance  descend  with  a 
wild  and  overwhelming  might.  "  That 
upon  you  may  come  all  the  righteous 
blood  shed  upon  the  earth,  from  the 
blood  of  rightepus  Abel  unto  the  blood 
of  Zacharias,  son  of  Barachias,  whom  ye 
slew  between  the  temple  and  the  altar. 
Verily  I  say  unto  you,  all  these  things 
shall  come  upon  this  generation." 

And  here  the  Savior  might  be  said  to 
have  exhausted  threatening;  for  what 
denunciation  could  be  more  tremen- 
dous, or  more  comprehensive!  We 
may  picture  him  to  ourselves,  launch- 
ing this  terrible  sentence,  a  more  than 
human  fire  in  his  eye,  and  a  voice  more 
deep-toned  and  thrilling  than  ever  is- 
sued from  mortal  lips.  I  know  of  no- 
thing that  would  be  more  sublime  and 


I 


commanding  in  representation,  if  there 
could  be  transferred  to  the  canvass  the 
vivid  delineations  of  thought,  than  the 
scene  thus  enacted  in  the  temple.  We 
figure  the  Redeemer  undaunted  by  the 
menacing  looks  and  half-suppressed 
murmurs  of  the  fierce  throng  by  which 
he  was  surrounded.-  He  becomes  more 
and  more  impassioned  in  his  eloquence, 
rising  from  one  bold  rebuke  to  another, 
and  throwing  into  his  language  a  great- 
er and  greater  measure  of  reproachful- 
ness  and  defiance.  And  when  he  has 
compelled  his  hearers  to  shrink  before 
the  rush  of  his  invective,  he  assumes 
the  prophetic  office,  and,  as  though 
armed  with  all  the  thunders  of  divine 
wrath,  announces  authoritatively  the 
approach  of  unparalleled  desolation. 
This  is  the  moment  we  would  seize  for 
delineation — though  what  pencil  can 
think  to  portray  the  lofty  bearing,  the 
pre-eminent  dignity,  the  awful  glance, 
the  terribleness,  yet  magnificence,  of 
gesture,  vvhich  must  have  characterized 
the  Mediator,  when,  wrought  up  into 
all  the  ardency  of  superhuman  zeal,  he 
brake  into  the  overwhelming  male- 
diction, "  Verily  I  say  nnto  you,  all 
these  things  shall  come  upon  this  ge- 
neration V 

But  if  the  scene  of  this  moment  de- 
fy the  painter's  art,  what  shall  we  say 
of  that  of  the  succeeding'?  No  sooner 
had  Christ  reached  that  height  of  in- 
trepid vehemence  at  which  we  have 
just  beheld  him,  than  he  gave  way  to  a 
burst  of  tenderness,  and  changed  the 
language  of  invective  for  that  of  la- 
mentation. At  one  moment  he  is  deal-  j 
ing  out  the  arrows  of  a  stern  and  la-  1 
cerating  oratory,  and  the  next,  he  is 
melted  into  tears,  and  can  find  no 
words  but  those  of  anguish  and  regret. 
Indeed  it  is  a  transition  more  exqui- 
sitely beautiful  than  can  be  found  in 
the  most  admired  specimens  of  human 
eloquence  ;  and  we  feel  that  there  must 
have  passed  a  change  over  the  counte- 
nance, and  the  whole  bearing  of  the  Sa- 
vior, which  imagination  cannot  catch, 
and  which,  if  it  could,  the  painter  could 
not  fix.  There  must  have  risen  before 
him  the  imagery  of  a  wrath  and  a 
wretchedness,  such  as  had  never  yet 
overtaken  any  nation  of  the  earth.  And 
the  people  that  should  be  thus  signal- 
led out  were  his  countrymen,  his  kins- 
men after  the  flesh,   over  whom   his 


THE    DISPERSION    AND    RESTOBATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


213 


heart  yearned,  and  whom  he  had  affec- 
tionately labored  to  convince  of  dan- 
ger, and  conduct  to  safety.  "He  felt 
therefore,  we  nriay  believe,  a  sudden 
and  excruciating  sorrow,  so  that  the 
judgments  which  he  foretold  pressed 
on  his  own  spirit,  and  caused  him  great 
agony.  He  was  too  pure  a  being,  and  he 
loved  with  too  abiding  and  disinterest- 
ed a  love,  to  harbor  any  feeling  allied 
with  revenge ;  and,  therefore,  though 
it  was  for  rejecting  himself  that  those 
whom  he  addressed  were  about  to  be 
punished,  he  could  not  contemplate 
the  punishment  but  with  bitterness  and 
anguish. 

And  hence  the  rapid  and  thrilling 
change  from  the  preacher  of  wrath  to 
the  mourner  over  suffiering.  Hence  the 
sudden  laying  aside  of  all  his  awful  ve- 
hemence, and  the  breaking  into  pathet- 
ic and  heart-touching  expressions.  Oh, 
you  feel  that  the  Redeemer  must  have 
been  subdued,  as  it  were,  and  master- 
ed, by  the  view  of  the  misery  which  he 
saw  coming  on  Judea,  and  by  the  re- 
membrance of  all  he  had  done  to  avert 
it  from  the  land,  ere  he  could  have 
passed  thus  instantaneously  from  indig- 
nant rebuke  to  exquisite  tenderness. 
And  it  cannot,  we  think,  be  without 
mingled  emotions  of  awe  and  delight, 
that  you  mark  the  transition  from  the 
herald  of  vengeance  to  the  sympa- 
thizer with  the  wretched.  Just  as  you 
are  shrinking  from  the  fierce  and  wi- 
thering denunciations,  almost  scathed 
by  the  fiery  eloquence  which  glares 
and  flashes  with  the  anger  of  the  Lord 
— ^just  as  you  are  expecting  a  new 
burst  of  threatening,  a  further  and 
wilder  malediction  from  the  voice 
which  seems  to  shake  the  magnificent 
temple— there  is  heard  the  sound  as  of 
one  who  is  struggling  with  sorrow ; 
and  in  a  tone  of  rich  plaintiveness,  in 
accents  musical  in  their  sadness,  and 
betraying  the  agony  of  a  stricken  spir- 
it, there  fall  upon  you  these  touching 
and  penetrating  words,  "  0  Jerusalem, 
Jerusalem,  how  often  would  I  have  ga- 
thered thy  children  together,  even  as 
a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under 
her  wings,  and  ye  would  not." 

But  there  is  so  much  of  important 
matter  in  this  and  the  following  verses^ 
that  it  is  time  that  we  confine  our- 
selves to  considering  the  statements 
here  made  by  Christ.  We  may  arrange 


these  statements  under  three  divisions. 
Under  the  first,  we  shall  have  to  con- 
sider what  had  been  done  for  Jerusa- 
lem ;  under  the  second,  the  consequen- 
ces to  the  Jews  of  their  rejecting  the 
Christ  ;  and,  under  the  third,  the  future 
conversion  of  this  unbelieving  people. 

Now  you  must  be  quite  prepared  for 
our  regarding  the  Jews  as  a  typical 
nation,  so  that,  in  God's  dealings  with 
them,  we  may  read,  as  in  a  glass,  his 
dealings  with  his  church,  whether  col- 
lectively or  individually.  You  must  be 
aware  that  the  history  of  the  Israelites 
is  full  of  symbolic  occurrence ;  and 
that,  without  drawing  any  forced  pa- 
rallel, the  narrative  may  be  transfer- 
red in  various  of  its  parts,  to  our  own 
day  and  generation,  and  be  used  as  de- 
scriptive of  what  occurs  among  chris- 
tians. You  will  not,  therefore,  be  sur- 
prised, if  we  consider  Christ's  remon- 
strance with  Jerusalem  as  every  way 
applicable  to  the  impenitent  of  later 
times,  and  as  affirming  nothing  in  re- 
gard of  the  Jews  which  may  not  be 
affirmed,  with  equal  truth,  of  many 
amongst  ourselves.  There  had  been 
much  done  for  Jerusalem  j  and  it  is  in 
exquisitely  moving  terms  that  Christ 
states  his  own  willingness  to  have  shel- 
tered that  city.  But  herein,  we  are  as- 
sured, Jerusalem  was  but  the  represent- 
ative of  individual  transgressors,  so  that 
the  very  same  words  might  be  addressed 
to  any  amongst  us  who  have  obstinately 
withstood  the  motions  of  God's  Spirit 
and  the  invitations  of  his  Gospel.  We 
cannot  indeed  be  said  to  have  killed 
the  prophets,  and  stoned  them  that 
were  sent  unto  us.  But  if  we  have  re- 
sisted the  engines,  whatever  they  may 
have  been,  through  which  God  has  car- 
ried on  the  moral  attack  ;  if  we  have 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  prophet  and  the 
messenger,  and  thus  done  our  part  to- 
wards frustrating  their  mission ;  then 
we  are  virtually  in  the  same  position 
as  Jerusalem,  and  may  regard  our- 
selves as  addressed  in  the  language  of 
our  text. 

And  when  the  verse  is  thus  with- 
drawn from  its  merely  national  appli- 
cation, and  we  consider  it  as  capable 
of  being  exemplified  in  the  history  of 
our  own  lives,  it  presents  such  an  ac- 
count of  God's  dealings  with  the  im- 
penitent, as  yields  to  none  in  import- 
ance and  interest.    We  observe  lirst, 


214 


THE    DISPERSION    AND    RESTORATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


that  however  unable  we  may  be  to  re- 
concile the  certainty  of  a  foreknown 
destruction  with  the  possibility  of 
avoiding  it,  we  are  bound  to  believe, 
on  the  testimony  of  our  text,  that  no 
man's  doom  is  so  fixed  that  it  may  not 
be  averted  by  repentance.  It  may  ap- 
pear to  us,  that,  all  along,  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem  had  been  a  settled 
thing  in  the  purposes  of  the  Almighty; 
and  that  God's  plans  were  so  arranged 
on  the  supposition  of  the  final  infidelity 
of  the  Jews,  that  they  could  not  have 
allowed  a  final  belief  in  the  Christ.  Yet 
Christ  declares  of  Jerusalem,  that  he 
would  often  have  gathered  her  children 
together,  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chick- 
ens under  her  wings;  and  that  only 
their  own  wilful  infidelity  had  prevent- 
ed his  sheltering  them  from  every  out- 
break of  wrath.  We  cannot,  therefore, 
doubt  that  it  was  quite  within  the  power 
of  the  Jews  to  have  repented ;  and  that, 
had  they  hearkened  to  the  voice  of  the 
Savior,  they  would  have  escaped  all 
that  punishment  which  appears  so  pre- 
determined, that,  to  suppose  it  remit- 
ted, is  to  suppose  God's  plans  thwart- 
ed. We  finally  admit  that  the  Savior 
must  have  known  that  those  whom  he 
called  would  not  obey.  But  there  is  all 
the  difference  between  saying  that  they 
could  not  obey,  and  that  they  would 
not  obey.  In  saying  that  they  could 
not  obey,  we  make  them  the  subjects 
of  some  hidden  decree,  which  placed 
an  impassable  barrier  between  them- 
selves and  repentance,  and  which  there- 
fore rendered  nugatory,  yea,  reduced 
into  mere  mockery,  the  warnings  and 
invitations  with  which  they  were  plied. 
But  in  saying  that  they  would  not  obey, 
we  charge  the  whole  blame  on  the  per- 
verseness  of  the  human  will,  and  sup- 
pose a  clear  space  left,  notwithstand- 
ing the  foreknown  infidelity,  for  those 
remonstrances  and  persuasions  which 
are  wholly  out  of  place  where  there  is 
no  power  of  hearkening  to  the  call. 

And  what  we  thus  hold  in  regard  of 
Jerusalem,  must  be  equally  held  in  re- 
gard of  every  individual  amongst  our- 
selves. We  cannot  doubt  that  there  is 
not  one  in  this  assembly  whose  eternal 
condition  is  not  as  well  known  to  the 
Almighty  as  though  it  were  fixed  by 
an  absolute  decree.  But  then  it  should 
be  carefully  observed,  that  this  fore- 
knowledge   of  God   puts  no  restraint 


upon  man,  obliges  him  not  to  one  course 
rather  than  to  another,  but  leaves  him 
as  free  to  choose  between  life  and  death, 
as  though  the  choice  must  be  made 
before  it  could  be  conjectured.  The 
clouds  of  vengeance  were  just  ready 
to  burst  upon  Jerusalem  ;  but  the  only 
reason  why  her  children  were  not 
sheltered,  was  that  "  they  would  not." 
Thus  with  ourselves — God  may  be  as 
certain  of  our  going  down  finally  into 
the  pit,  as  though  we  had  already  been 
thrown  to  destruction;  but  the  single 
reason,  given  at  the  last,  why  we  have 
not  escaped,  will  be  our  own  rejection 
of  a  proffered  deliverance.  There  is  no 
mystery  in  this,  nothing  inscrutable. 
There  is  no  room  for  pleading  that  a 
divine  decree  was  against  us,  and  that, 
therefore,  salvation,  if  nominally  offer- 
ed, was  virtually  out  of  reach.  It  was 
not  out  of  the  reach  of  Jerusalem, 
though  her  grasping  it  would  have  ap- 
parently deranged  the  whole  scheme 
of  redemption.  And  it  is  not  out  of  the 
reach  of  any  one  of  us,  however  the 
final  impenitence  of  this  or  that  indivi- 
dual may  be  fully  ascertained  by  the 
foreknowledge  of  God.  It  is  nothing 
to  say  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to 
do  what  God  knows  I  shall  not  do.  It 
is  not  God's  foreknowledge,  it  is  only 
my  own  wilfulness,  which  makes  the 
impossibility.  I  am  not  hampered,  I  am 
not  shackled  by  God's  foreknowledge  : 
I  am  every  jot  as  free  as  though  there 
were  no  foreknowledge.  And  thus, 
without  searching  into  secret  things 
which  belong  only  to  God,  and  yet 
maintaining  in  all  their  -integrity  the 
divine  attributes,  we  can  apply  to  every 
one  who  goes  on  in  impenitence,  the 
touching  remonstrance  of  Christ  in  our 
text.  If  such  a  man  reach  that  mo- 
ment, which  had  been  reached  by  Je- 
rusalem, the  moment  when  the  day  of 
grace  terminates,  and  the  overtures  of 
mercy  are  brought  to  a  close,  the  Sa- 
vior may  say  to  him,  "  How  often  would 
I  have  gathered  thee  under  my  wings, 
and  thou  wouldest  not!" 

How  often  !  Who  is  there  amongst 
us  unto  whom  have  not  been  vouchsa- 
fed repeated  opportunities  of  knowing 
the  things  which  belong  unto  peace  I 
Who,  that  has  not  been  frequently  mov- 
ed, by  the  expostulations  of  conscience 
and  the  suggestions  of  God's  Spirit, 
to  flee  the  wrath  to  come '?  Who,  upon 


THE    DISPERSION    AND    RESTOKATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


215 


whom  the  means  of  grace  have  not 
been  accumulated,  so  that,  time  after 
time,  he  has  been  threatened,  and  Avarn- 
ed,  and  reasoned  with,  and  besought  ? 
How  often !  I  would  have  gathered 
thee  in  thy  prosperity,  when  thou  wast 
spoken  to  in  mercies,  and  bidden  to 
remember  the  hand  whence  they  came. 
I  would  have  gathered  thee  in  thine 
adversity,  when  sorrow  had  softened 
thine  heart,  and  thou  didst  look  on  the 
right  hand,  and  on  the  left,  for  a  com- 
forter. How  often  !  By  every  sermon 
which  thou  hast  heard,  by  every  death 
in  thy  neighborhood,  by  every  misgiv- 
ing of  soul,  by  every  joy  that  cheered 
thee,  and  by  every  grief  that  saddened 
thee,  I  have  spoken,  but  thou  wouldest 
not  hear,  I  have  called,  but  thou  would- 
est not  answer.  We  may  be  thoroughly 
assured  that  there  is  not  one  of  us  who 
shall  be  able  to  plead  at  the  last,  that 
he  was  not  sufficiently  invited.  There 
is  not  one  of  us,  who  shall  be  able  to 
charge  his  perdition  on  any  thing  but 
his  own  choice.  "  How  often,"  "how 
often,"  will  ring  in  the  ear  of  every 
man  who  remains  unconverted  beneath 
the  ministry  of  the  Gospel ;  the  re- 
membrance of  abused  mercies,  and 
slighted  means,  and  neglected  oppor- 
tunities, bemg  as  the  knell  of  his  un- 
alterable doom.  And,  oh,  as  the  wicked 
behold  the  righteous  sheltered  beneath 
the  Mediator's  protection,  from  all  the 
fury  which  gathers  and  hurries  over  a 
polluted  creation,  Ave  can  believe,  that, 
of  all  racking  thoughts,  the  most  fear- 
ful will  be,  that  they  too  might  have 
been  covered  by  the  same  mighty  wing, 
and  that,  had  they  not  chosen  exposure 
to  the  iron  sleet  of  God's  wrath,  they 
too  might  have  rested  in  peace,  whilst 
the  strange  work  of  destruction  went 
forward.  Therefore  will  their  own  con- 
sciences either  pass  or  ratify  their 
sentence.  Thej''  will  shrink  down  to 
their  fire  and  their  shame,  not  more 
compelled  by  a  ministry  of  vengeance, 
than  torn  by  a  consciousness  that  they, 
like  the  children  of  Jerusalem,  might 
have  often  taken  shelter  under  the  sure- 
tyship of  a  Redeemei',  and  that  they, 
like  the  children  of  Jerusalem,  are 
naked  and  defenceless,  only  because 
they  would  not  be  covered  with  his 
feathers. 

But  we  go  on  to  the  second  topic 
which  is  presented  to  us  by  the  words 


under  review,  the  consequences  to 
the  Jews  of  their  rejecting  the  Christ. 
These  consequences  are,  the  desola- 
tion of  their  national  condition,  "Be- 
hold, your  house  is  left  unto  you  deso- 
late," and  the  judicial  blindness  which 
would  settle  upon  them,  so  that,  until  a 
certain  period  had  elapsed,  they  should, 
not  see,  and  acknowledge,  the  Savior. 
This  latter  consequence  is  stated  in 
the  concluding  verse  of  the  text,  "  ye 
shall  not  see  me  henceforth,  till  ye  shall 
say.  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord," — that  is,  I  shall 
withdraw  myself  altogether  from  you, 
till  a  time  arrive  at  which  you  shall  be 
prepared  to  welcome  me  as  Messiah, 
Thus  we  have  a  double  prophecy  of 
what  should  befall  the  Jews,  a  prophe- 
cy of  their  miserj'',  and  a  prophecy  of 
their  infidelity.  And  along  with  this 
prophecy  there  is  an  evident  intimation 
of  what  has  been  the  chief  character- 
istic of  the  Jews,  their  complete  sepa- 
ration, through  all  their  dispersions, 
from  every  other  people.  We  derive 
this  intimation  from  the  terms  in  which 
their  misery  is  foretold,  "  Behold,  your 
house  is  left  unto  you  desolate."  It 
seems  as  though  it  had  been  said  that 
they  were  still  to  have  a  house,  but 
that  house  would  be  desolate  ;  Judea 
would  be  theirs,  but  themselves  exiles 
from  its  provinces.  And  if  the  house 
were  to  remain  appropriated  to  the 
Jews,  the  Jews  must  remain  distin- 
guished from  other  people;  so  that 
what  predicts  their  punishment,  pre- 
dicts also,  though  in  more  obscure 
terms,  their  being  kept  apart  from  the 
rest  of  humankind,  that  they  may  at 
length  be  reinstated  in  the  possession 
of  their  fathers. 

But  we  confine  ourselves  at  present 
to  the  prediction  of  their  state,  as  af- 
fected by  their  rejection  of  Christ. 
They  were  to  be  desolate,  but  distinct 
from  other  people ;  and  an  obstinate 
unbelief  was  to  characterize  them 
through  the  whole  period  of  "  the  times 
of  the  Gentiles."  And  we  need  hardly 
tell  you  of  the  accuracy  with  which 
such  prophecy  has  been  all  along  ful- 
filled. The  predictions  which  bear  re- 
ference to  the  Jews,  have  this  advan- 
tage over  all  other,  that  their  accom- 
plishment may  be  said  to  force  itself 
on  the  notice  of  the  least  observant, 
and  not  to  require,  in  order  to  its  de- 


216  ' 


THE    DISPERSION    AND    RESTORATION   OF    THE    JEWS. 


monslration,  the  labor  of  a  learned  re- 
search. Of  all  surprising  phenomena, 
there  is  perhaps  none  as  wonderful  as 
that  of  the  Jews'  preserving,  through 
long  centuries,  their  distinguishing  fea- 
tures. It  would  have  been  comparative- 
ly nothing,  had  the  Jews  remained  in 
Judea,  that  they  should  have  continued 
marked  off  from  every  other  people. 
But  that  they  should  have  been  dis- 
persed into  all  nations,  and  yet  have 
amalgamated  with  none ;  that  they 
should  be  every  were  found,  and  yet 
be  every  where  the  same ;  that  they 
should  submit  themselves  to  all  forms 
of  government,  and  adopt  all  varieties 
of  customs,  and  yet  be  unable,  after 
any  lapse  of  time,  to  extirpate  their 
national  marks;  we  may  pronounce 
this  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  man- 
kind, and  inexplicable  but  as  the  fulfil- 
ment of  prophecy.  If  the  Jews,  though 
removed  from  their  own  land,  had  been 
confined  to  one  other,  we  might  have 
found  causes  of  a  protracted  distinc- 
tion, in  national  antipathies  or  legisla- 
tive enactments.  But  when  the  disper- 
sion has  been  so  universal,  that,  where- 
soever man  treads,  the  Jew  has  made 
his  dwelling,  and  yet  the  distinction  is 
so  abiding  that  you  may  always  recog- 
nize the  Jew  for  yourself,  there  is  no 
place  left  for  the  explanations  which 
might  be  given,  were  the  marvel  lim- 
ited to  a  district  or  age  ;  and  we  have 
before  us  a  miracle,  which  would  not 
be  exceeded,  nay,  not  by  the  thousandth 
part  equalled,  were  we  privileged  to 
behold  the  mightiest  suspension  of  the 
known  laws  of  nature. 

Neither  is  it  only  in  the  preservation 
of  their  distinguishing  characteristics 
that  the  Jews  are  wonderful,  and  give 
evidence  that  Christ  prophesied  through 
a  more  than  human  foresight.  The  con- 
tinued infidelity  of  the  Jews  is  every 
jot  as  surprising  as  their  continued 
separation.  We  are  quite  at  a  loss,  on 
any  natural  principles,  to  account  for 
their  infidelity.  It  is  easy  to  explain 
the  little  way  which  the  Gospel  makes 
amongst  the  heathen,  but  not  the  far 
less  which  it  makes  amongst  the  Jews. 
I  may  well  expect  to  be  met  by  a  most 
vigorous  opposition  on  the  part  of  the 
heathen ;  for  I  go  to  them  with  a  reli- 
gious system  which  demands  the  un- 
qualified rejection  of  their  own  ;  we 
have   scarcely  an    inch  of  ground  in 


common  ;  and  if  I  would  prevail  on 
them  to  receive  as  true  what  I  bring,  I 
must  prevail  on  them  to  renounce  as 
false  what  they  believe.  But  the  case 
seems  widely  different  when  my  attack 
is  on  the  Jew.  We  have  a  vast  deal  of 
common  ground.  We  believe  in  the 
same  God  ;  we  receive  the  same  Scrip- 
tures ;  we  look  for  the  same  Messiah. 
There  is  but  one  point  of  debate  be- 
tween us ;  and  that  is,  whether  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  were  theGhrist.  And  thus 
the  field  of  argument  is  surprisingly 
narrowed  ;  in  place  of  having  to  fight 
our  way  painfully  from  one  principle 
to  another,  and  of  settling  all  the  points 
of  natural  religion,  as  preliminary  to 
the  introduction  of  the  mysteries  of 
revealed,  we  can  go  at  once  to  the  sin- 
gle truth  at  issue  between  us,  and  dis- 
cuss, from  writings  which  we  equally 
receive  as  inspired,  the  claims  of  Je- 
sus to  the  being  Messiah.  Surely  it 
might  have  been  expected,  that  the  in- 
fidelity of  the  Jew  would  have  been  far 
more  easily  overcome  than  that  of  the 
heathen  ;  and  that,  in  settling  ourselves 
to  win  converts  to  Christianity,  there 
would  have  been  a  better  prospect  of 
gaining  credence  for  the  New  Testa- 
ment where  the  Old  was  acknowledg- 
ed, than  of  making  way  for  the  whole 
Bible,  where  there  was  nothing  but 
idolatry. 

You  are  to  add  to  this,  that,  whate- 
ver the  likelihood  that  the  Jew  would 
reject  Christianity  on  its  first  publica- 
tion, it  was  a  likelihood  which  dimi- 
nished with  every  year  that  rolled 
away ;  inasmuch  as  every  year  which 
brought  no  other  Messiah,  swelled  the 
demonstration  that  Jesuswas  the  Christ. 
It  is  not  to  be  explained,  on  any  of  the 
principles  to  which w^e  ordinarily  recur 
in  accounting  for  infidelitj'^,  why  the 
Jews  persisted  in  rejecting  Jesus,  when 
the  time  had  long  passed  which  them- 
selves fixed  for  Messiah's  appearing. 
Their  prophecies  had  clearly  determin-  ' 
ed  that  Christ  Avould  come  whilst  the 
second  temple  was  standing,  and  at  the 
close  of  seventy  weeks  from  the  ter- 
mination of  the  Babylonish  captivity. 
But  when  the  second  temple  had  been 
long  even  with  the  ground,  and  the  se- 
venty weeks,  on  every  possible  compu- 
tation, had  long  ago  terminated,  the 
.Tews,  we  might  have  thought,  would 
have  been  compelled  to  admit,  either 


DISPERSION    AND    RESTORATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


217 


.  that  Messiah  had  come,  or  that  their  j 
I  expectation  was  vain,  and  that  no  de- 
liverer would  appear.  There  seemed 
no  alternative,  if  they  rejected  Jesus 
of^  Nazareth,  but  the  rejecting  their 
own  Scriptures.  So  that  we  can  have 
no  hesitation  in  affirming,  that  the  con- 
'  tinned  infidelity,  like  the  continued  se- 
'  paration,  of  the  Jews  is  wholly  inex- 
plicable, unless  referred  to  the  appoint- 
ment and  judgment  of  God.  We  can 
no  more  account,  on  any  common  prin- 
ciples, for  theif  persisting  in  expecting 
a  Redeemer,  when  the  predictions  on 
which  they  rest  manifestly  pertain  to  a 
long-departed  age,  than  for  their  re- 
taining all  their  national  peculiarities, 
when  they  have  been  for  centuries 
''  without  a  king,  and  without  a  prince, 
and  without  a  sacrifice."  In  both  ca- 
ses they  accomplish,  and  that  too  most 
signally,  the  prophecies  of  Christ — 
their  house  being  left  unto  them  deso- 
late, and  a  judicial  blindness  having 
settled  on  their  understanding. 

And  never,  therefore,  should  we 
meet  a  Jew,  without  feeling  that  we 
meet  the  strongest  witness  for  the  truth 
of  our  religion.  I  know  not  how  those, 
who  are  proof  against  all  other  testi- 
mony, can  withstand  that  furnished  by 
the  condition  of  the  Jews.  They  may 
have  their  doubts  as  to  the  performance 
of  the  miracles  recorded  in  the  writ- 
ings of  evangelists  ;  but  here  is  a  mi- 
racle, wrought  before  their  eyes,  and 
which  ceases  not  to  be  miracle  because 
long  continued.  We  call  it  miracle,  be- 
cause altogether  contrary  to  what  We 
had  reason  to  expect,  and  not  to  be  ex- 
plained on  mere  natural  principles. 
That  the  Jews  have  not  ceased  to  be 
Jews;  that,  though  scattered  over  the 
world,  domesticated  in  every  land,  at 
one  time  hunted  by  persecution  and 
ground  down  by  oppression,  at  another, 
allowed  every  privilege  and  placed  on 
a  footing  with  the  natives  of  the  soil, 
there  has  been  a  proved  impossibility 
of  wearing  away  their  distinguishing 
characteristics,  and  confounding  them 
with  any  other  tribe — is  not  this  mar- 
vellous \  That,  moreover,  throughout 
their  long  exile  from  their  own  land, 
they  have  held  fast  the  Scriptures 
which  prove  their  hopes  vain,  and  ap- 
pealed to  prophets,  who,  if  any  thing 
better  than  deceivers,  accuse  them  of 
the  worst  crime,  and  convict  them  of 


the  worst  madness — we  nfRrm  of  this, 
that  it  is  a  prodigy  without  equal  in 
all  the  registered  wonders  which  have 
been  known  on  our  earth :  and  I  want 
nothing  more  to  assure  me  that  Christ 
came  from  God,  and  that  he  had  a  su- 
perhuman power  of  inspecting  distant 
times,  than  the  evidence  vouchsafed, 
when  I  turn  from  surveying  the  once 
chosen  people,  and  hear  the  Redeemer 
declaring  in  his  last  discourse  in  the 
temple,  that  their  house  should  be  left 
unto  them  desolate,  and  that  a  moral 
darkness  should  long  cloud  their  un- 
derstanding. 

But  we  have  now,  in  the  third  and 
last  place,  to  consider  what  our  text 
affirms  of  the  future  conversion  of  this 
unbelieving  people.  We  have  already 
insisted  on  the  fact,  that,  in  delivering 
the  words  under  review,  Christ  was 
concluding  his  public  ministrations,  and 
that  they  could  not,  therefore,  have 
been  accomplished  in  events  which  oc- 
curred whilst  he  was  yet  upon  earth. 
Yet  they  manifestly  contain  a  predic- 
tion, that,  at  some  time  or  another,  the 
Jews  would  be  willing  to  hail  him  as 
Messiah.  In  saying,  "  ye  shall  not  see 
me  henceforth  till  ye  shall  say,  blessed 
is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord,"  Christ  undoubtedly  implied  that 
the  Jews  should  again  see  him,  but  not 
till  prepared  to  give  him  their  alle- 
giance. We  referred  you  to  the  psahn 
in  which  this  exclamation  occurs,  that 
you  might  be  certified  as  to  its  amount- 
ing to  an  acknowledgment  of  the  Mes- 
siah. So  that,  on  every  account,  we 
seem  warranted  in  assuming,  that,  whilst 
announcing  the  misery  which  the  Jews 
were  fast  bringing  on  themselves,  and 
the  protracted  inlidelity  to  which  they 
would  be  consigned,  Christ  also  an- 
nounced that  a  time  would  come,  when 
the  veil  would  be  taken  from  their 
hearts,  and  they  would  delightedly  re- 
ceive the  very  being  they  were  then 
about  to  crucify. 

Such  is  the  great  event  for  which  we 
yet  look,  and  with  which  stands  asso- 
ciated all  that  is  most  glorious  in  the 
dominion  of  Christianity.  We  know  not 
with  what  eyes  those  men  can  read 
prophecy,  who  discover  not  in  its  an- 
nouncements the  final  restoration  and 
conversion  of  the  Jews.  It  is  useless  to 
attempt  to  resolve  into  figurative  lan- 
guage, or  to  explain  by  a  purely  spiri- 
28 


218 


DISPERSION    AND    RESTORATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


tual  interpretation,  predictions  which 
seem  to  assert  the  reinstatement  of  the 
exiles  in  the  land  of  their  fathers,  and 
their  becoming  the  chief  preachers  of  tlie 
religion  which  they  have  so  long  labor- 
ed to  bring  into  contempt.  These  pre- 
dictions are  inseparably  bound  up  with 
others,  which  refer  to  their  dispersion 
and  unbelief;  so  that,  if  you  spiritual- 
ize any  one,  you  must  spiritualize  the 
whole.  And  since  every  word  has  had 
a  literal  accomplishment,  so  far  as  the 
dispersion  and  unbelief  are  concerned, 
how  can  we  doubt  that  every  word  will 
have  also  a  literal  accomplishment,  so 
far  as  the  restoration  and  conversion 
are  concerned'?  If  the  event  had  prov- 
ed the  predicted  dispersion  to  be  figu- 
rative, the  event,  in  all  probability, 
would  prove  also  the  predicted  resto- 
ration to  be  figurative.  But,  so  long  as 
we  find  the  two  foretold  in  the  same 
sentence,  with  no  intimation  that  we 
are  not  to  apply  to  both  the  same  rule 
of  interpretation,  we  seem  bound  to 
expect,  either  in  both  cases  a  literal 
fulfilment,  or  in  both  a  spiritual ;  and 
since  in  the  one  instance  the  fulfilment 
has  been  undoubtedly  literal,  have  we 
not  every  reason  for  concluding  that  it 
will  be  literal  in  the  other  1 

We  believe,  then,  of  the  nation  of 
Israel,  that  it  has  not  been  cast  ofi'  for 
ever,  that  not  for  ever  shall  Jerusalem 
sit  desolate,  mourning  her  banished 
ones,  and  trodden  down  by  the  Gen- 
tiles. We  believe,  according  to  the  de- 
claration of  Isaiah,  that  there  shall  come 
a  day  when  "  the  great  trumpet  shall 
be  blown,  and  they  shall  come  which 
were  ready  to  perish  in  the  land  of 
Assyria,  and  the  outcasts  in  the  land 
of  Egypt,  and  shall  worship  the  Lord 
in  the  holy  mount  at  Jerusalem."  We 
believe,  according  to  the  magnificent 
imagery  of  the  same  evangelical  pro- 
phet, that  a  voice  will  yet  say  to  the 
prostrate  nation  and  city,  "Arise,  shine, 
for  thy  light  is  come,  and  the  glory  of 
the  Lord  is  risen  upon  thee."  "  The 
sons  of  strangers  shall  build  up  thy 
walls,  and  their  kings  shall  minister 
unto  thee  ;  for  in  my  wrath  I  smote 
thee;  but  in  my  favor  have  I  had  mercy 
on  thee."  We  know  not  by  what  migh- 
ty impulse,  nor  at  what  mysterious  sig- 
nal, the  scattered  tribes  shall  arise  from 
the  mountains,  and  valleys,  and  islands 
of  the  earth,  and  hasten  towards  the 


land  which  God  promised  to  Abraham 
and  his  seed.  We  cannot  divine  what 
instrumentality  will  be  brought  to  bear 
on  mankind,  when  God  shall  "  say  to 
the  north,  give  up,  and  to  the  south, 
keep  not  back;  bring  my  sons  from  far, 
and  my  daughters  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth."  But  we  are  sure,  that,  what- 
ever the  means  employed  to  gather 
home  the  wanderers,  they  shall  flow 
into  Judea  from  every  district  of  the 
globe;  they  shall  fly  as  "  the  doves  to 
their  windows  ;"  and  the  waste  and  de- 
solate places  become  "  too  narrow  by 
reason  of  the  inhabitants." 

And  when  God's  hand  shall  have 
been  lifted  up  to  the  Gentiles,  compel- 
ling them  to  bring  his  sons  in  their 
arms,  and  his  daughters  on  their  shoul- 
ders ;  when  marching  thousands  shall 
have  crossed  the  confines  of  Palestine, 
and  pitched  their  tents  in  plains  which 
the  Jordan  waters;  then  will  there  be  a 
manifestation  of  the  Christ,  and  then  a 
conversion  of  the  unbelieving.  We  have 
but  few,  and  those  obscure,  notices  of 
this  august  consummation.  We  may 
perhaps  gather,  from  the  predictions 
of  Ezekiel  and  Daniel,  that,  when  the 
Jews  shall  have  resettled  themselves  in 
Judea,  they  will  be  attacked  by  an  an- 
tichristian  confederacy ;  that  certain 
potentates  will  combine,  lead  their  ar- 
mies to  the  holy  land,  and  seek  to  plun- 
der and  exterminate  the  reinstated  peo- 
ple. And  the  struggle  will  be  vehement ; 
for  it  is  declared  in  the  last  chapter  of 
the  Prophecies  of  Zechariah,  ''  I  will 
gather  all  nations  against  Jerusalem  to 
battle,  and  the  city  shall  be  taken,  and 
the  houses  rifled,  and  half  of  the  city 
shall  go  forth  into  captivity."  But  at 
this  crisis,  when  the  anti-christian  pow- 
ers seem  on  the  point  of  triumphing 
over  the  Jews,  the  Lord,  we  are  told, 
shall  visibly  interpose,  and  turn  the 
tide  of  battle.  "  And  his  feet  shall  stand 
in  that  day  upon  the  mount  of  Olives." 
It  was  from  the  mount  of  Olives  that 
Jesus  ascended,  when  he  had  glorious- 
ly completed  our  redemption.  And 
whilst  the  apostles  "  lookedisteadfastly 
towards  heaven,  as  he  went  up,"  there 
stood  by  them  two  men  in  white  ap- 
parel, which  told  them  that  "  this  same 
Jesus,  which  is  taken  up  from  you  into 
heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like  manner 
as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into  heaven." 
There  was  here  a  clear  prophecy  that 


DISPERSION    AND    RESTOKATION    OF    THE    JEWS. 


219 


Christ  should  return  personally  to  the 
earth,  and  that,  too,  in  like  manner  as 
he  departed.  And  it  may  be  one  point 
of  similarity  between  the  departure  and 
the  return,  that,  as  he  went  up  from  the 
mount  of  Olives,  so,  as  Zechariah  pre- 
dicts, it  shall  be  on  the  mount  of  Olives 
he  descends.  Then  shall  he  be  seen  and 
known  by  the  Jewish  people.  Then 
«hall  the  hearts  of  this  people,  which 
had  been  previously  moved,  it  may  be, 
to  the  seeking  the  God  of  their  fathers, 
though  not  to  the  acknowledging  the 
crucified  Messiah,  sink  within  them  at 
the  view  of  the  being  whom  their  an- 
cestors pierced,  and  whom  themselves 
had  blasphemed.  They  shall  recognize 
in  him  their  long-expected  Christ,  and 
throwing  away  every  remnant  of  infi- 
delity, and  full  of  remorse  and  godly 
contrition,  shall  fall  down  before  him, 
and  supplicate  forgiveness,  and  tender 
their  allegiance. 

This  we  believe  to  be  the  time  re- 
ferred to  by  Christ  in  the  prophecy  of 
our  text.  Then  will  the  nation  be  pre- 
pared to  exclaim,  "  Blessed  is  he  that 
Cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 
Then  will  the  period,  which  God,  in 
his  righteous  vengeance,  hath  appoint- 
ed for  the  desolation  of  their  house,  be 
brought  to  its  close  ;  "  the  times  of  the 
Gentiles  "  will  be  completed,  and  the 
jubilee  year  of  this  creation  will  com- 
mence. Until  the  Jews,  with  one  heart 
and  one  voice,  shall  utter  the  welcome 
of  our  text,  we  are  taught  to  expect 
no  general  diffusion  of  Christianity,  no- 
thing which  shall  approach  to  that 
complete  mantling  of  the  globe  with 
righteousness  and  peace,  which  pro- 
phets have  described  in  their  most  fer- 
vid strains.  But  the  uttering  this  wel- 
come by  the  reinstated  Israelites,  shall 
be  as  the  blast  of  the  silver  trumpets 
which  ushered  in  the  Jubilee  of  old. 
The  sound  shall  be  heard  on  every 
shore.  The  east  and  the  west,  the 
north  and  the  south,  shall  echo  back 
the  peal,  and  all  nations,  and  tribes, 
and  tongues  shall  join  in  proclaiming 
blessed  "the  King  of  kings  and  Lord 
of  lords."  Jerusalem,  "her  walls  sal- 
vation and  her  gates  praise,"  shall  be 
erected  into  the  metropolis  of  the  re- 
generated earth  ;  and  she  shall  send 
forth,  in  every  direction,  the  preachers 
of  the  "  one  Mediator  between  God  and 
man  j"  and  rapidly  shall  all  error,  and 


all  false  doctrine,  and  all  superstition, 
and  all  opposition,  give  way  before 
these  mighty  missionaries ;  till,  at 
length,  the  sun,  in  his  circuit  round 
this  globe,  shall  shine  upon  no  habita- 
tions but  those  of  disciples  of  Christ, 
and  behold  no  spectacle  but  that  of  a 
rejoicing  multitude,  walking  in  the  love 
of  the  Lord  our  Redeemer. 

Such,  we  believe,  is  the  prophetic 
delineation  of  what  shall  occur  at  the 
second  advent  of  Christ.  And  if  there 
were  great  cause  why  Jesus  should 
weep  over  Jerusalem,  as  he  thought 
on  the  infidelity  of  her  children,  and 
marked  the  long  train  of  calamities 
which  pressed  rapidly  onwards,  there  is 
abundant  reason  why  we,  upon  whom 
are  fallen  the  ends  of  the  world,  should 
look  with  hope  to  the  hill  of  Zion,  and 
expect,  in  gladness  of  spirit,  the  speedy 
dawning  of  bright  days  on  the  deserted 
and  desecrated  Judea.  If  we  have  at 
heart  the  advance  of  Christianity,  we 
shall  be  much  in  prayer  for  the  con- 
version of  the  Jews.  "Ye  that  make 
mention  of  the  Lord,"  saith  the  prophet 
Isaiah,  "  keep  not  silence,  and  give  him 
no  rest,  till  he  establish,  and  till  he 
make  Jerusalem  a  praise  in  the  earth." 
I  have  more  than  sympathy  with  the 
Jews  as  a  people  chastened  for  the  sin 
of  their  ancestors  :  I  have  an  indistinct 
feeling  of  reverence  and  awe,  as  know- 
ing them  reserved  for  the  most  glori- 
ous allotments.  It  is  not  their  sordid- 
ness,  their  degradation,  nor  their  impi- 
ety— and  much  less  is  it  their  suffering 
— which  can  make  me  forget  either 
the  vast  debt  we  owe  them,  or  the 
splendid  station  which  they  have  yet 
to  assume.  That  my  Redeemer  was 
a  Jew,  that  his  apostles  were  Jews, 
that  Jews  preserved  for  us  the  sacred 
oracles,  that  Jews  first  published  the 
tidings  of  salvation,  that  the  dimin- 
ishing of  the  Jews  was  the  riches 
of  the  Gentiles— I  were  wanting  in 
common  gratitude,  if,  in  spite  of  all 
this,  I  were  conscious  of  no  yearnings 
of  heart  towards  the  exiles  and  wan- 
derers. But,  asks  St.  Paul,  "if  the 
casting  away  of  them  be  the  reconcil- 
ing of  the  world,  what  shall  the  receiv- 
ing of  them  be  but  life  from  the  deadi" 
And  if  indeed  the  universal  reign  of 
Christ  cannot  be  introduced,  until  the 
Jews  are  brought,  like  Paul  their  great 
type,  to  preach  the  faith  which  now 


2-20 


DISPERSIO!^    AND    REST0RAT10.*<    OF    THE    JEWS. 


they  despise,  where  can  be  our  sinceri- 
ty in  putting  up  continually  the  pray- 
er, "thy  kingdom  come,"  if  we  have 
no  longing  for  the  home-gathering  of 
the  scattered  tribes,  no  earnestness  in 
supplication  that  the  veil  may  be  taken 
from  the  heart  of  the  Israelite! 

In  proportion  as  we  "  grow  in  grace 
and  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ,"  we 
shall  grow  in  the  desire  that  the  Re- 
deemer's sovereignty  may  be  more 
widely  and  visibly  extended.  And  as 
this  desire  increases,  our  thoughts  will 
turn  to  Jerusalem,  to  the  scenes  which 
witnessed  Christ's  humiliation,  and 
Avhich  have  also  to  witness  his  tri- 
umphs. Dear  to  us  will  be  every  moun- 
tain and  every  valley;  but  not  more 
dear  because  once  hallowed  by  the 
footsteps  of  the  Man  of  sorrows,  than 
because  yet  to  be  irradiated  by  the 
magnificent  presence  of  the  King  of 
kings.  Dear  will  be  Lebanon  with 
its  cedars,  and  Jordan  Avith  its  wa- 
ters ;  but  not  more  dear,  because  as- 
sociated with  departed  glories,  than 
because  the  trees  have  to  rejoice, 
and  "the  floods  to  clap  their  hands," 
before  the  Lord,  as  he  cometh  down 
in  pomp  to  his  kingdom.  Dear  will 
be  the  city,  as  we  gaze  upon  it  in  its 
scathed  and  wasted  estate;  but  not 
more  dear,  because  Jesus  sojourned 
there,  and  suffered  there,  and  wept 
there  bitter  tears,  than  because  Jeru- 
salem hath  yet  to  be  "  a  crown  of 
glory  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  and  a 
royal  diadem  in  the  hand  of  her  God." 
We  bid  you,  therefore,  examine  well, 
whether  you  assign  the  Jew  his  scrip- 
tural place  in  the  economy  of  redemp- 
tion, and  whether  you  give  him  his 
due  share  in  your  intercessions  with 
your  Maker.  You  owe  him  much  ;  yea, 
vastly  more  than  you  can  ever  com-  : 
pute.  The  branches  were  broken  ofT;  | 
and  we,  being  wild  olive  trees,  were  I 
grafted  in  amongst  them.  But  the  na- 
tural branches  shall  be  again  grafted  j 
into  their  own  olive  tree.  And  when  i 
they  are  thus  grafted,  then — and  who  j 
will  not  long,   who  will  not  pray  for  I 


such  result] — the  seed  which  was  less, 
when  sown,  than  all  the  seeds  in  the 
earth,  shall  grow  suddenly  into  a  plant 
of  unrivalled  stature  and  efflorescence  ; 
the  whole  globe  shall  be  canopied  by 
the  far-spreading  boughs,  and  the  fowls 
of  the  air  shall  lodge  under  its  shadow. 
I  have  only  to  add,  that,  as  you 
leave  the  church,  you  will  be  asked  to 
prove  that  you  do  indeed  care  for  the 
Jews,  by  subscribing  liberally  towards 
a  Society  which  devotes  all  its  ener- 
gies to  the  attempting  their  conver- 
sion. I  have  indeed  spoken  in  vain,  if 
the  attempt  shall  prove  that  you  refuse 
this  Society  your  aid,  or  give  it  only  in 
scant  measure.  And  it  is  not  I  who 
appeal  to  you.  The  memory  of  a  great 
and  good  man*  appeals  to  you.  The 
Society  for  the  Conversion  of  the  Jews 
was  the  favorite  Society  of  that  admi- 
rable and  lamented  person,  who,  for  so 
many  years,  labored  in  the  ministry  in 
this  town,  and  who  can  hardly  be  for- 
gotten here  for  generations  to  come. 
In  preaching  for  this  Society,  I  redeem 
a  promise  which  I  made  to  him  when 
my  duties  brought  me  last  year  to  this 
place.  I  obey  his  wish,  I  comply  with 
his  request.  And  it  cannot  be  that  you 
will  fail  to  embrace  gladly  an  opportu- 
nity of  showing  your  respect  for  so 
eminent  a  servant  of  God,  one  who 
spent  and  was  spent,  that  he  might 
guide  you  to  heaven.  You  might  erect 
to  him  a  costly  monument;  you  might 
grave  his  virtues  on  the  brass,  and 
cause  the  marble  to  assume  a  livino- 
shape,  and  bend  mournfully  over  his 
ashes.  But  be  ye  well  assured,  that,  if  . 
his  glorified  spirit  be  yet  conscious  of 
what  passes  on  this  earth,  it  would  be 
no  pleasure  to  him  to  see  that  j'ou 
gathered  into  solemn  processions  to  ' 
honor  his  obsequies,  and  reared,  in  to- 
ken of  your  love,  the  stately  cenotaph, 
compared  with  what  he  would  derive 
from  beholding  your  zeal,  in  gathering 
into  the  christian  fold  "the  lost  sheep 
of  the  house  of  Israel." 

*  The  Rev.  Charles  Simeon. 


SERMOXS  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAMBRIDGE ; 

February,   1837. 


The  publication  of  the  followinor  Sermons  was  strongly  requested  by  many  of  those  who  had 
heard  them  delivered.  The  Author  was  thus  placed  under  the  same  circumstances  as  a  year  ago, 
when  he  had  discharged  the  duties  of  Select  Preacher  before  the  University.  He  felt  that  it  would 
not  become  him  to  act  differently  on  the  two  occasions;  and  he  can  now  only  express  his  earnest 
hope  that  discourses,  which  were  listened  to  with  singular  kindness  and  attention,  may  be  perused 
with  some  measure  of  advantage. 

Cambesweli.,  Marcb  4,  1637. 


SERMON  I. 


THE  UNNATURALNESS  OF  DISOBEDIENCE  TO  THE  GOSPEL. 


'0  foolish  Galatians,  who  hath  bewitched  you,  that  ye  should  not  obey  the  truth;  before  whose 
eyes  Jesus  Christ  hath  been  evidently  set  forth,  crucified  among  you  V — Galatians,  3  :  1. 


It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  Gala- 
tians, here  addressed,  were  not  Jews; 
neither  liad  they  been  dwellers  in  Je- 
rusalem, when  Christ  died  upon  the 
cross.  It  was  not  therefore  true  of 
them,  any  more  than  of  ourselves,  that, 
with  the  bodily  eye,  they  had  beheld 
Jesus  crucified.  If  the  Savior  had  been 
evidently  set  forth  before  the  Galatians, 
sacrificed  for  sin,  it  could  only  have 
been  in  the  same  manner  as  he  is  set 
before  us,  through  the  preaching  of  the 
word,  and  the  administration  of  the 
Sacraments.  There  was  no  engine 
brought  to  bear  on  the  Galatians,  ex- 
cept that  of  the  miracles  which  the 
first  teachers  wrought,  which  is  not 
also  brought  to  bear  upon  us  ;  and  the 
miracles  were  of  no  avail,  except  to 
the  making  good  points  on  which  we 
profess  ourselves  already  convinced. 
If  therefore  the  very  Gospel  which  St. 
Paul  preached  be  preached  in  our  hear- 
ing, and  the  very  Sacraments  which  he 
administered  be  administered  in  our 


:  assemblies,  it  may  be  said  of  us,  with 
:  as  much  propriety  as  of  the  Galatians, 
I  that  "Jesus  Christ  hath  been  evidently 

set  forth,  crucified  among  us." 
I      The   greater  distance   at  which  we 
j  stand  from  the   introduction  of  chris- 
i  tianity  does   not   necessarily  occasion 

any  greater  indistinctness  in  the  exhi- 
I  bition  of  the  Savior.  It  was  not  the 
i  proximity  of  the  Galatians  to  the  time 

of  the  crucifixion  which  caused  Christ 
I  to  appear  as  though  crucified  among 
I  them  ;  for  once  let  a  truth  become  an 
!  object  of  faith,  not  of  sight,  and  it  must 
I  make  way  by  the  same  process  at  dif- 
;  ferent  times — there  may  be  diversity 
i  in  the  evidence  by  which  it  is  sustain- 
I  ed,  there  is  none  in  the  manner  in  which 

it  is  apprehended. 

j  We  may  therefore  bring  down  our 
i  text  to  present  days,  and  regard  it  as 
I  applicable,  in  every  part,  to  ourselves. 

There  are  two  chief  topics  which  will 

demand  to   be  handled.    You  observe 

that  the  apostle  speaks  of  it  as  so  sin- 


222 


THE    UNNATORALNESS    OF    DISOBEDIENCE    TO    THE    GOSPEL. 


gular,  that  mea  should  disobey  the 
truth,  that  he  can  only  ascribe  it  to 
sorcery  or  fascination.  You  observe 
also  that  he  grounds  this  opinion  on 
the  fact,  that  Christianity  had  been  so 
propounded  to  these  men,  that  Christ 
himself  might  be  said  to  have  been  cru- 
cified among  them.  We  shall  invert  the 
order  of  the  text,  believing  that  it  may 
be  thus  most  practically  considered.  In 
the  first  place,  it  will  be  our  endeavor  to 
show  you,  that  there  is  nothing  exag- 
gerated in  our  declaring  of  yourselves, 
that  "before  your  eyes  Christ  Jesus 
hath  been  evidently  set  forth,  crucified 
among  you."  In  the  second  place,  we 
shall  make  this  fact  a  basis  on  which 
to  ground  a  question  to  those  who  are 
yet  neglectful  of  the  soul,  "  Who  hath 
bewitched  you  that  ye  should  not  obey 
the  truth  V 

Now  we  are  bold  to  claim  at  once  a 
high  character  for  the  ministrations  of 
the  Gospel,  and  shall  not  attempt  to 
construct  a  labored  proof  of  their  pow- 
er. We  do  not  substantiate  our  claim 
by  any  reference  to  the  wisdom  or 
energy  of  the  men  by  whom  these  mi- 
nistrations may  be  conducted;  for  Paul 
may  plant,  and  Apollos  water,  but  God 
alone  can  give  the  increase.  It  is  alto- 
gether as  a  divinely  instituted  ordi- 
nance that  we  uphold  the  might  of 
preaching,  and  contend  that  it  may 
have  such  power  of  annihilating  time, 
and  reducing  the  past  to  present  being, 
as  to  set  Christ  evidently  before  your 
eyes,  crucified  among  you.  We  are  as- 
sured, in  regard  of  the  public  ministra- 
tions of  the  word,  that  they  are  the  in- 
stituted method  by  which  the  events  of 
one  age  are  to  be  kept  fresh  through 
every  other.  And,  on  this  account,  Ave 
can  have  no  hesitation  in  using  lan- 
guage with  regard  to  these  our  weekly 
assemblings,  which  would  be  wholly 
unwarranted,  if  we  ascribed  the  worth 
of  preaching,  in  any  degree,  to  the 
preacher.  When  the  services  of  God's 
house  are  considered  as  an  instrumen- 
tality through  which  God's  Spirit  ope- 
rates, we  may  safely  attribute  to  those 
services  extraordinary  energy. 

We  say  therefore  of  preaching,  that 
it  must  be  separated  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  preacher;  for  it  is  only  when 
thus  separated,  that  we  can  apply  to  it 
St.  Paul's  assertion  in  our  text.  I  might 
now  bring  before  you  a  summary  of  the 


history  of  Christ.  I  might  evoke  from 
the  past  the  miracles  of  Jesus,  and  bid 
you  look  on,  as  the  sick  are  healed,  and 
the  dead  raised.  I  might  lead  you  from 
scene  to  scene  of  his  last  great  strug- 
gle with  the  powers  of  darkness,  and 
summon  you  to  behold  him  in  the  gar- 
den, and  at  the  judgment-seat,  on  the 
cross  and  in  the  grave.  And  then,  as 
though  we  were  actually  standing,  as 
stood  the  Israelites,  when  the  fiery  ser- 
pents were  abroad,  round  the  cross 
which  sustained  that  to  which  we  must 
look  for  deliverance,  might  I  entreat 
you,  by  the  hopes  and  fears  which  cen- 
tre in  eternity,  to  gaze  on  the  Lamb  of 
God  as  the  alone  propitiation  for  sin. 
This  I  might  do  ;  and  this  has  been  of- 
ten done  from  this  place.  And  shall  we 
hesitate  to  affirm,  that,  whensoever  this 
is  done,  Jesus  Christ  is  "  set  forth,  cru- 
cified among  you"?"  It  is  not  that  we 
can  pretend  to  throw  surpassing  vivid- 
ness into  our  representations.  It  is  not 
that  we  can  claim  such  power  of  deli- 
neation as  shall  renovate  the  past,  and 
cause  it  to  re-appear  as  a  present  oc- 
currence. It  is  not,  that,  by  any  figure 
of  speech,  or  any  hold  on  your  imagi- 
nations, we  can  summon  back  what  has 
long  ago  departed,  and  fix  it  in  the 
midst  of  you  visibly  and  palpably.  It  is 
only,  that  as  intercession  has  been  ap- 
pointed to  perpetuate  the  crucifixion 
of  Christ — so  that,  as  our  Advocate 
with  the  Father,  he  has  continually  that 
sacrifice  to  present,  which  he  offer- 
ed once  for  all  upon  Calvary — so  has 
preaching  been  appointed  to  preserve 
the  memory  of  that  death  which  achiev- 
ed our  redemption,  and  keep  the  migh- 
ty deed  from  growing  old. 

The  virtue  therefore  which  we  as- 
cribe to  our  public  discourses,  is  de- 
rived exclusively  from  their  constitu- 
ting an  ordained  instrumentality  ;  and 
our  confidence  that  the  virtue  will  not 
be  found  wanting,  flows  only  from  a 
conviction  that  an  instrumentality,  once 
ordained,  will  be  duly  honored,  by  God. 
We  believe  assuredly  that  there  is  at 
work,  in  this  very  place,  and  at  this 
very  moment,  an  agency  independent 
of  all  human,  but  which  is  accustomed 
to  make  itself  felt  through  finite  and 
weak  instruments.  As  the  words  flow 
from  the  lips  of  him  who  addresses  you, 
flow  apparently  in  the  unaided  strength 
of  mere  earthly  speech,  they  may  be 


fHE    UNNATURALNESS   OF   DISOBEDIENCE   TO  THE    GOSPEL. 


223 


endowed  by  this  agency  with  an  ener- 
gy which  is  wholly  from  above,  and 
thus  prevail  to  the  setting  Christianity 
before  you,  with  as  clear  evidence  as 
was  granted  to  those  who  saw  Jesus  in 
the  flesh.  So  that,  if  there  were  no- 
thing entrusted  to  us  but  the  preaching 
of  the  word,  if  we  had  no  sacraments 
to  administer,  we  should  feel,  that, 
without  presumption,  we  might  declare 
of  our  hearers  what  St.  Paul  declared 
of  the  christians  at  Galatia.  Yea,  so 
deep  is  our  persuasion  of  our  living 
under  the  dispensation  of  the  Spirit, 
and  of  preaching  being  the  chief  en- 
gine which  this  Spirit  employs  in  trans- 
mitting a  knowledge  of  redemption, 
that,  after  every  endeavor,  however  fee- 
ble and  inadequate  to  bring  under  men's 
view  "  the  mystery  of  godliness,"  we 
feel  that  practically  as  much  is  done 
for  them  as  though  they  had  been  spec- 
tators of  Christ's  expiatory  suflferings; 
and  therefore  could  we  boldly  wind  up 
every  such  endeavor,  by  addressing  our 
auditors  as  individuals,  *'  before  whose 
eyes  Jesus  Christ  hath  been  evidently 
set  forth,  crucified  among  them." 

But  you  are  to  add  to  this,  that  not 
only  is  there  the  preaching  of  the  Gos- 
pel in  our  churches  5  there  is  also  the 
administration  of  sacraments.  We  will 
confine  ourselves  to  the  sacrament  of 
the  Lord's  Supper,  as  furnishing  the 
more  forcible  illustration.  It  is  said  by 
St.  Paul,  in  reference  to  this  sacrament, 
"  As  often  as  ye  eat  this  bread,  and 
drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show  the- Lord's 
death  till  he  come" — an  explicit  asser- 
tion that  there  is  in  the  Lord's  supper, 
such  a  manifestation  of  the  crucifixion 
of  Jesus,  as  will  serve  to  set  forth  that 
event  until  his  second  appearing.  And 
we  scarcely  need  tell  you,  that,  inas- 
much as  the  bread  and  the  wine  repre- 
sent the  body  and  blood  of  the  Savior, 
the  administration  of  this  sacrament  is 
so  commemorative  of  Christ's  having 
been  offered  as  a  sacrifice,  that  we 
seem  to  have  before  us  the  awful  and 
mysterious  transaction,  as  though  again 
were  the  cross  reared,  and  the  words 
"It  is  finished"  pronounced  in  our 
hearing.  We  have  here  the  represen- 
tation by  significative  action,  just  as, 
in  the  case  of  preaching,  by  authorita- 
tive announcement.  For  no  man  can 
partake  of  tliis  sacrament,  with  his 
spiritual  sensibilities  in  free  exercise, 


and  not  seem  to  himself  to  be  travers- 
ing the  garden  and  the  mount,"  conse- 
crated by  a  Mediator's  agony,  whilst 
they  witness  the  fearful  struggles 
through  which  was  effected  our  recon- 
ciliation to  God. 

And  if  we  attach  weight  to  the  opin- 
ion of  the  church  in  her  best  days,  we 
mujt  hold  that  there  is  actually  a  sa- 
crifice in  the  Eucharist,  though  of 
course  not  such  as  the  papists  pretend. 
Christ  is  offered  in  this  sacrament,  but 
only  commemoratively.  Yet  the  com- 
memoration is  not  a  bare  remember- 
ing, or  putting  ourselves  in  mind  ;  it  is 
strictly  a  commemoration  made  to  God 
the  Father.  As  Christ,  by  presenting 
his  death  and  satisfaction  to  his  Father, 
continually  intercedes  for  us  in  heaven, 
so  the  church  on  earth,  when  celebra- 
ting the  Eucharist,  approaches  the 
throne  of  grace  by  representing  Christ 
unto  his  Father  in  the  holy  mysteries 
of  his  death  and  passion.* 

From  the  beginning  it  has  been  al- 
ways the  same  awfully  solemn  rite, 
which  might  have  attested  and  taught 
Christianity,  had  every  written  record 
perished  from  the  earth.  All  along  it 
has  been  the  Gospel  preached  by  ac- 
tion, a  phenomenon  of  which  you  could 
give  no  account,  except  by  admitting 
the  chief  facts  of  the  New  Testament 
history,  and  which  might,  in  a  great 
degree,  have  preserved  a  knowledge  of 
those  facts,  had  they  never  been  regis- 
tered by  Evangelists.  It  is  like  a  pillar 
erected  in  the  waste  of  centuries,  in- 
delibly inscribed  with  memorials  of  our 
faith  5  or  rather,  it  is  as  the  cross  it- 
self, presenting  to  all  ages  the  immola- 
tion of  that  victim  who  "put  away  sin 
by  the  sacrifice  of  himself."  And  so 
long  as  this  sacrament  is  administered 
in  our  churches,  men  shall  never  be 
able  to  plead  that  there  are  presented 
to  them  none  but  weak  and  ineffective 
exhibitions  of  Christ.  If  the  crucifixion 
be  not  vivid,  as  delineated  from  the 
pulpit,  it  must  be  vivid  as  delineated 
from  the  altar.  And  it  is  nothing  that 
hundreds  absent  themselves  from  the 
great  celebration,  and  thus  never  wit- 
ness the  representation  of  the  crucifix- 
ion. They  are  invited  to  that  celebra- 
tion, they  are  perfectly  aware  of  its 
nature,  and  their  remaining  away  can 

*  See  Mede  on  Malachi,  1:11. 


224 


THE   UNNATURALXESS   OP    DISOBEDIENCE   TO   THE   GOSPEL. 


do  nothing  towards  lessening  its  solem- 
nities, and  stripping  it  of  energy  as  an 
exhibition  of  Christ's  death.  And  whilst 
men  are  members  of  a  church  in  whose 
ordinances  the  Lord's  death  is  continu- 
ally shown  forth,  we  can  be  bold  to  ad- 
dress them,  whether  they  neglect  or 
whether  they  partake  of  those  ordi- 
nances, in  the  very  terms  in  which  St. 
Paul  addressed  the  Galatians  of  old. 
Yes,  whatever  our  infirmities  and  defi- 
ciencies as  preachers  of  the  everlast- 
ing Gospel,  we  take  high  ground  as  in- 
trusted with  dispensing  the  sacrament 
of  the  Eucharist :  and  whilst  we  have 
to  deliver  the  bread  of  which  Christ 
said,  "  Take,  eat,  this  is  my  body,"  and 
the  cup  of  which  he  declared,  "  this  is 
my  blood  of  the  New  Testament,"  we 
may  look  an  assembly  confidently  in 
the  face,  and  affirm  that  there  are  prof- 
fered them  such  exhibitions  of  the  sa- 
crifice of  the  Mediator,  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  evidently  set  forth  before 
their  eyes,  crucified  among  them. 

But  we  have  now,  in  the  second 
place,  to  assume  that  the  facts  of  the 
Gospel  are  thus  brought  vividly  before 
you,  and  to  infer  from  it  that  disobedi- 
ence to  the  truth  can  only  be  ascribed 
to  fascination  or  witchcraft.  The  ques- 
tion, "  Who  hath  bewitched  you  1"  in- 
dicates the  persuasion  of  the  apostle, 
that  the  Gospel  of  the  crucifixion  was 
eminently  adapted  to  make  way  upon 
earth.  And  this  is  a  point  which  per- 
haps scarcely  receives  its  due  share  of 
attention.  We  know  so  well  that  there 
is  practically  a  kind  of  antipathy  be- 
tween the  doctrines  of  Christianity  and 
the  human  heart,  that,  whilst  we  ad- 
mit the  necessity  of  a  supernatural  in- 
fluence to  procure  them  reception,  we 
never  think  of  referring  to  sorcery  to 
explain  their  rejection.  It  seems  so 
natural  to  us  to  disobey  the  truth,  how- 
ever clearly  and  forcibly  propounded, 
that,  when  disobedience  is  to  be  ac- 
counted for,  there  appears  no  need  for 
the  calling  in  witchcraft. 

Yet  there  is,  we  believe,  a  mistake 
in  this,  and  one  calculated  to  bring  dis- 
credit on  the  Gospel.  If  you  represent 
it  as  a  thing  quite  to  be  expected,  that 
men  would  disobey  the  Gospel — just 
as  though  the  Gospel  were  so  con- 
structed as  to  be  necessarily  repulsive 
— you  invest  it  with  a  character  at  va- 
riance with  the  wisdom  of  its  Author ; 


for  you  declare  of  the  means,  that  they 
are  not  adapted  to  the  end  which  is 
proposed.  And  we  wish  to  maintain,  that, 
I  situated  as  fallen  men  are,  the  Gospel 
I  of  the  crucifixion  adapts  itself  so  accu- 
j  rately  to  their  wants,  and  addresses  it- 
self so  powerfully  to  their  feelings,  that 
their  rejection  of  it  is  a  mystery,  in  the 
explaining  of  which  we  are  forced  to 
have  recourse  to  the  witch's  fascina- 
tions. We  reckon  that  the  great  truth 
of  Christianity,  "  God  so  loved  the 
world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten 
Son"  for  its  rescue,  is  so  fitted  for 
overcoming  the  obstinacy,  and  melting 
the  hearts  of  humankind,  that  it  must 
be  matter  of  amazement  to  higher  or- 
ders of  intelligence,  that  it  should  be 
heard  with  indifi'erence,  or  rejected 
with  scorn.  Angels,  pondering  a  fact 
which  appears  to  them  more  surprising 
than  the  humiliation  and  death  of  the 
everlasting  Word — the  fact  that  re- 
deemed creatures  reject  their  Redeem- 
er— may  propose  amongst  themselves 
the  very  question  of  our  text,  "who 
hath  bewitched  them  that  they  should 
not  obey  the  truth  1" 

We  shall  not  include  in  our  investi- 
gations into  the  fairness  of  this  ques- 
tion the  case  of  the  open  infidel,  who 
professedly  disbelieves  the  whole  of 
Christianity.  We  omit  this  case,  not 
because  we  think  that  it  is  not  to  be 
accounted  for  as  the  result  of  some 
species  of  fascination,  but  only  because 
it  is  not  one  of  those  directly  intended 
by  St.  Paul.  As  to  the  fascination  or 
witchcraft,  it  scarce  admits  debate.  For 
w'e  can  never  allow,  that,  where  reason 
has  fair  play,  and  the  intellect  is  per- 
mitted to  sit  in  calm  judgment  on  the 
proofs  to  which  Christianity  appeals, 
there  will  be  aught  else  but  a  verdict 
in  favor  of  the  divine  origin  of  our  re- 
ligion. So  mighty  are  the  evidences  on 
which  the  faith  rests,  that,  where  there 
is  candor  in  the  inquirer,  belief  must 
be  the  issue  of  the  inquiry.  And  where- 
soever there  is  a  dill'erent  result,  we 
can  be  certain  that  there  has  been  some 
fatal  bias  on  the  reasoning  faculties j 
and  that,  whether  it  have  been  the  sor- 
cery of  his  own  passions,  or  of  "  the 
prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  the 
man  has  been  as  verily  spell-bound 
throughout  his  investigations,  as  though 
with  Saul  he  had  gone  down  to  the 
cave  of  the   enchantress,  and  yielded 


THE    UNNATURALNESS    OF    DISOBEDIENCE    TO    THE    GOSPEL. 


225 


himself   to  her    unhallowed  dominion. 

But  we  pass  by  this  case,  and  come  at 
once  to  the  considering,  whether  the 
Gospel  of  Christ  be  not  admirably  cal- 
culated for  making  way  to  the  con- 
science and  the  heart,  so  that  the  mar- 
vel is  not  that  it  should  here  and  there 
win  a  convert,  but  rather  that  it  does 
not  meet  with  universal  success. 

Let  it,  first,  be  observed  with  how 
surpassing  an  energy  this  Gospel  ap- 
peals to  the  fears  of  mankind.  We  say, 
to  the  fears — for  it  were  indeed  to  take 
a  contracted  view  of  Christianity,  to 
survey  it  as  proffering  mercy,  and  to 
overlook  its  demonstrations  of  wrath. 
If  Jesus  Christ  have  been  "evidently 
set  forth,  crucified  among  you,"  there 
has  been  exhibited  to  you  so  stern  a 
manifestation  of  God's  hatred  of  sin, 
that,  if  you  can  still  live  in  violation 
of  his  laws,  some  fascinating  power 
must  have  made  you  reckless  of  con- 
sequences. There  is  this  marvellous 
combination  in  the  Gospel  scheme, 
that  we  cannot  preach  of  pardon  with- 
out preaching  of  judgment.  Every  ho- 
mily as  to  how  sinners  may  be  forgiv- 
en, is  equally  a  homily  as  to  the  fear- 
fulness  of  their  doom,  if  they  continue 
impenitent.  We  speak  to  men  of  Christ 
as  bearing  their  "  sins  in  his  own  body 
on  the  tree,"  and  the  speech  seems  to 
breathe  nothing  but  unmeasured  lov- 
ing-kindness. Yet  who,  on  hearing  it, 
can  repress  the  thoughts,  what  must 
sin  be,  if  no  finite  being  could  make 
atonement;  what  must  its  curse  be,  if 
Deity  alone  could  exhaust  it  1  And  yet, 
with  the  great  mass  of  men,  this  appeal 
to  their  fears  is  wholly  inefiectual.  Is 
it  that  the  appeal  is  not  sufficiently  en- 
ergetic \  is  it  that  it  is  not  framed  into 
such  shape  as  to  be  adapted  to  beings 
with  the  passions  and  feelings  of  men  ( 
Is  it  that  there  is  nothing  in  our  na- 
ture, which  responds  to  a  warning  and 
summons  thus  constructed  and  con- 
veyed 1  We  cannot  admit  the  explana- 
tion. The  crucifixion  is  a  proclamation, 
than  which  there  cannot  be  imagined  a 
clearer  and  more  thrilling,  that  an  eter- 
nity of  inconceivable  wretchedness  will 
be  awarded  to  all  who  continue  in  sin. 
And  yet  men  do  continue  in  sin.  The 
proclamation  is  practically  as  power- 
less as  though  it  were  the  threat  of  an 
infant  or  an  idiot.  And  we  are  bold  to 
say  of  this,  that  it  is  unnatural.   Men 


have  the  flesh  which  can  quiver,  and 
the  hearts  which  can  quake;  and  we 
call  it  unnatural,  that  there  should  be 
no  trembling,  and  no  misgiving,  when 
the  wrath  of  the  Almighty  is  being 
opened  before  them,  and  directed  a- 
gainst  them. 

And  if  unnatural,  what  account  can 
we  give  of  their  disobeying  the  truth  1 
Oh,  there  have  been  brought  to  bear  on 
them  the  arts  of  fascination  and  sorce- 
ry. I  know  not,  in  each  particular  case, 
what  hath  woven  the  spell,  and  breath- 
ed the  incantation.  But  there  must 
have  been  some  species  of  moral  witch- 
craft, by  which  they  have  been  steeled 
against  impressions  which  would  other- 
wise have  been  necessarily  produced. 
Has  the  magician  been  with  them,  who 
presides  over  the  gold  and  silver,  and 
persuaded  them  that  wealth  is  so  pre- 
cious that  it  should  be  amassed  at  all 
risks  1  Has  the  enchantress  who  min- 
gles the  wine-cup,  and  wreathes  the 
dance,  been  with  them,  beguiling  them 
with  the  music  of  her  blandishments, 
and  assuring  them  that  the  pleasures 
of  the  world  are  worth  every  penalty 
they  incur  1  Has  the  wizard,  who,  by 
the  circlings  of  his  wand,  can  cause 
the  glories  of  empire  to  pass  before 
men's  view,  as  they  passed,  in  mysteri- 
ous but  magnificent  phantoms,  before 
that  of  Christ  in  his  hour  of  tempta- 
tion, been  with  them,  cajoling  thera 
with  dreams  of  honor  and  distinction, 
till  he  have  made  them  reckless  of 
everlasting  infamy  1  We  say  again,  we 
know  not  what  the  enchantment  may 
have  been.  We  know  not  the  draught 
by  whose  fumes  men  have  been  stupi- 
fied,  nor  the  voice  by  whose  tones  they 
have  been  infatuated.  But  we  know  so 
thoroughly  that  the  Gospel,  published 
in  their  hearing,  is  exactly  adapted  for 
the  acting  on  their  fears,  for  the  filling 
them  with  dread,  and  moving  them  to 
energy,  that,  when  we  behold  them  in- 
different to  the  high  things  of  futurity, 
and  yet  remember  that  "  Christ  Jesus 
hath  been  evidently  set  forth,  crucified 
among  them,"  we  can  but  resolve  the 
phenomenon  into  some  species  or  an- 
other of  magical  delusion  ;  we  can  but 
ply  them  with  the  question,  "  who  hath 
bewitched  you,  that  ye  should  not  obey 
the  truth  V' 

But  it  is  saying  little,  to  say  that  the 
Gospel  addresses  itself  to  the  fears  of 
29 


226 


THE    UNNATURALNES3    OF    DISOBEDIENCE    TO    THE    GOSPEL. 


mankind  ;  it  is  equally  adapted  for  act- 
ing on  feelings  of  a  gentler  and  more 
generous  description.  The  effect  of 
the  fall  was  not  to  banish  from  man's 
breast  "  whatsoever  things  are  lovely 
and  of  good  report ;"  but  rather — and 
this  is  far  more  melancholy,  as  proving 
alienation  from  God — that,  whilst  there 
can  yet  be  the  play  of  fine  and  noble 
emotions  betv/een  man  and  man,  there 
is  nothing  of  the  kind  from  man  to- 
wards his  Maker. 

Those  sympathies,  which  are  readily 
called  into  exercise  by  the  kindness 
and  disinterestedness  of  a  fellow-crea- 
ture, seem  incapable  of  responding  to 
the  love  and  compassion  of  our  benevo- 
lent Creator.  That  statue,  so  famed  in 
antiquity,  which  breathed  melody  only 
when  gilded  by  the  sunbeams,  was  just 
the  opposite  to  man  in  his  exile  and 
alienation.  No  lesser  rays,  whether 
from  the  moon  or  stars,  could  wake  the 
music  that  was  sepulchred  in  a  stone. 
The  sun  must  come  forth,  ''as  a  gi- 
ant to  run  his  race,"  and  then  the 
statue  responded  to  his  shinings,  and 
hymned  his  praises.  But  not  so  with 
man.  TJie  lesser  rays  can  wake  some 
melody.  The  claims  of  country,  or  of 
kindred,  can  excite  him  to  correspon- 
dent duties.  But  the  sun  shineth  upon 
him  in  vain.  The  claims  of  God  call 
forth  no  devotedness  :  and  the  stone 
which  can  discourse  musically  in  an- 
swer to  the  glimmerings  of  philosophy, 
and  the  glow  of  friendship,  is  silent  as 
the  grave  to  the  revelation  of  God  and 
his  Christ. 

We  declare  of  the  Gospel,  that  it 
addresses  itself  directly  to  those  feel- 
ings, which,  for  the  most  part,  arc  in- 
stantly wakened  by  kindness  and  be- 
neficence. Take  away  the  divinity 
from  this  Gospel,  reduce  it  into  a  re- 
cord of  what  one  man  hath  done  for 
others,  and  it  relates  a  generous  inter- 
position, whose  objects,  if  they  evinc- 
ed no  gratitude,  would  be  denounced 
as  disgracing  humanity.  If  it  be  true 
that  \ve  naturally  entertain  sentiments 
of  the  warmest  affection  towards  those 
who  have  done,  or  suffered,  some  great 
thing  on  our  behalf,  it  would  seem 
quite  to  be  expected  that  such  senti- 
ments would  be  called  into  most  vigor- 
ous exercise  by  the  Mediator's  work. 
If  in  a  day  when  pestilence  was  abroad 
on  the  earth,  and  men  dreaded  its  en- 


trance into  their  household,  we  could 
carry  them  to  a  bed  on  which  lay  one 
racked  by  the  terrible  malady ;  and 
tell  them  that  this  individual  had  vo- 
luntarily taken  the  fearful  infection, 
and  was  going  down  in  agony  to  the 
grave,  because  complying,  of  his  own 
choice,  v.'ith  a  mysterious  decree  which 
assured  him,  that,  if  he  would  thus  suf- 
fer, the  disease  should  have  no  power 
over  their  families — is  it  credible  that 
they  would  look  on  the  dying  man  with 
indifference  ;  or  that,  as  they  hearken- 
ed to  his  last  requests,  they  would  feel 
other  than  a  resolve  to  undertake,  as 
the  most  sacred  of  duties,  the  fulfilling 
the  injunctions  of  one  who,  by  so  cost- 
ly a  sacrifice,  warded  off"  the  evil  with 
which  they  were  threatened  1  And  yet, 
what  would  this  be,  compared  with  our 
leading  them  to  the  scene  of  crucifix- 
ion, and  showing  them  the  Redeemer 
dying  in  their  stead  '?  You  cannot  say, 
that,  if  the  sulferer  on  his  death-bed 
would  be  a  spectacle  to  excite  emo- 
tions of  gratitude,  and  resolutions  of 
obedience,  the  spectacle  of  Christ  on 
the  cross  might  be  expected  to  be  sur- 
veyed with  carelessness  and  coldness. 
Yet  such  is  undeniably  the  fact.  The 
result  which  would  naturally  be  produ- 
ced is  not  produced.  Men  would  na- 
turally feel  gratitude,  but  they  do  not 
feel  gratitude.  They  would  naturally 
be  softened  into  love  and  submission, 
and  they  manifest  only  insensibility 
and  harJ-heartedness. 

And  what  are  we  to  say  to  this  1 
Here  are  beings  who  are  capable  of 
certain  feelings,  and  Avho  show  nothing 
of  those  feelings  when  there  is  most 
to  excite  them  ;  beings  who  can  dis- 
play love  to  every  friend  but  their 
best,  and  gratitude  to  every  benefac- 
tor but  their  greatest.  Oh,  we  say — ■ 
and  it  is  the  unnaturalness  of  the  ex- 
hibition which  forces  us  to  say — that 
enchantment  has  been  at  work,  steal- 
ing away  the  senses,  and  deadening 
the  feelings.  In  all  other  cases  the 
heart  has  free  play;  but  in  this  it  is 
trammelled,  as  by  some  magical  cords, 
and  cannot  beat  generously.  Satan,  the 
great  deceiver,  who  seduced  the  first  of 
humankind,  has  been  busy  with  one  sort 
OT  another  of  illusion,  and  has  so  bound 
men  with  his  spells  that  they  are  mor- 
ally entranced.  We  know  not,  as  we 
said   in  tlie    former    case,  what   may 


THE    UNNATCRALNESS    OF    DISOBEDIENCE    TO    THE    GOSPEL. 


227 


iave  been  the  stupifying  charm,  or  the 
coercive  incantation.  We  have  not 
gone  down  with  them  to  the  haunts  of 
the  sorcerer,  that  we  might  know  by 
what  rites  they  have  thus  been  human- 
ized. But  they  would  never  be  indiffer- 
ent where  there  is  most  to  excite,  and 
insensible  where  there  is  all  that  can 
tell  upon  their  feelings,  if  thej'^  had 
not  surrendered  the  soul  to  some  pow- 
er of  darkness,  some  beguiling  and 
o'ermastering  passion,  some  agency 
which,  like  that  pretended  to  by  the 
woman  of  Endor,  professes  to  give  life 
to  the  dead.  And  therefore  remember- 
ing, that,  as  grafted  into  the  Christian 
Church,  they  are  men  "before  whose 
eyes  Jesus  Christ  hath  been  evidently 
set  forth,  crucified  among  them,"  we 
cannot  see  them  manifesting  no  love 
to  the  Savior,  and  yielding  him  no  alle- 
giance, without  feeling  that  this  their 
vehement  ingratitude  is  wholly  unna- 
tural, and  without  therefore  pressing 
home  upon  them  the  question,  "  who 
hath  bewitched  you  that  ye  should  not 
obey  the  truth  V"' 

We  may  certainly  add,  that,  as  ad- 
dressing itself  to  men's  hope,  the  Gos- 
pel is  so  calculated  for  making  and 
retaining  disciples,  that  nothing  but 
the  workings  of  sorcery  will  explain 
its  rejection.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  Christ,  as  Mediator,  not  only  gain- 
ed our  pardon,  but  procured  for  us 
everlasting  happiness.  And  if  we  must 
judge  the  immenseness  of  the  escaped 
punishment,  we  must  judge  also  that  of 
the  proffered  glory,  by  the  fact  that 
our  substitute  was  none  other  than  a 
person  of  the  Trinity.  If  Christ  Jesus 
is  set  before  men,  crucified  among 
them,  they  are  manifestly  taught,  that, 
as  the  price  paid  is  not  to  be  comput- 
ed, neither  is  the  happiness  of  which 
it  was  the  purchase.  And  they  are  be- 
ings keenly  alive  to  their  own  inter- 
ests, readily  excited  by  any  prospect 
of  good,  and  who  exhibit  the  greatest 
alacrity  and  vigor  in  pursuing  such 
plans  as  promise  them  advantage.  It 
is  moreover  their  natural  constitution, 
to  forego  a  present  for  a  future  and 
far  greater  good,  and  to  submit  cheer- 
fully to  privations,  in  hopes  of  receiv- 
ing what  shall  be  more  than  equivalent. 
We  call  this  their  natural  constitution; 
and  we  therefore,  further,  callj  it  un- 
natural, and  demonstrative  of  strange 


and  sinister  influence,  that  they  should 
choose  the  trifling  in  preference  to  the 
unmeasured,  and  give  up  the  everlasting 
for  the  sake  of  the  transient.  Yet  this 
men  do  when  they  disobey  the  Gospel. 
The  Gospel  addresses  itself  directly  to 
their  desire  after  happiness.  It  makes 
its  appeal  to  that  principle  in  their  na- 
ture, which  prompts  them  to  provide 
for  the  future  at  the  expense  of  the 
present.  In  every  other  case  they 
hearken  to  such  address,  and  respond 
to  such  appeal.  But  in  this  case,  which 
differs  from  every  other  only  in  the  in- 
calculable superiority  of  the  proffered 
good,  they  turn  a  deaf  ear,  and  wear 
all  the  appearance  of  a  natural  incapa- 
city of  being  stirred  by  such  an  engine 
as  the  Gospel  brings  to  bear. 

What  account  shall  we  give  of  this  X 
A  principle   of  their  nature  is  in  full 

vio-or,  except  in  the  instance  in  which 
■      •  J    1         • 

there  is  most  to  excite  it,  and  then  it 

seems  utterly  extinguished.  They  can 
pursue  a  future  good,  unless  it  be  infi- 
nite, and  be  moved  by  any  prospect  of 
happiness,  except  of  everlasting.  There 
must  have  been  sorcery  here  ;  and  we 
have  no  difficulty  in  determining  how 
the  magician  has  worked.  The  devil  has 
practised  that  jugglery  which  causes 
the  objects  of  faith  to  shrink  into  in- 
significance, and  those  of  sense  to  di- 
late into  magnitude.  There  has  been 
the  weaving  of  that  spell  which  cir- 
cumscribes the  view,  so  that,  though  a 
man  can  look  forward,  he  never  looks 
beyond  the  grave.  There  has  been  the 
drinking  of  that  cup  of  voluptuousness, 
of  which  whosoever  partakes  is  mad- 
dened into  longing  for  yet  deeper 
draughts.  It  is  sorcery,  it  is  witchcraft. 
Men  would  not  hesitate,  if  an  earthly 
good  were  to  be  secured  on  the  condi- 
tions of  the  Gospel ;  and  they  refuse, 
when  the  good  is  heavenly,  only  be- 
cause they  had  sufl'ered  themselves  to 
be  beguiled,  and  cheated,  and  entran- 
ced. There  is  a  charm  upon  them,  and 
their  own  passions  have  sealed  it, 'bind- 
ing them  to  love  the  world,  and  the 
things  that  are  in  the  world.  There  is 
an  enchanted  circle,  which  their  indulg- 
ed lusts  have  traced,  and  within  which 
they  walk,  so  that  they  cannot  expati- 
ate over  the  vast  spreadings  of  their 
existence.  There  is  a  syren  voice,  and 
their  own  wishes  syllable  its  whispers, 
telling  them  there  is  no  cause  for  haste, 


228 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT. 


but  that  hereafter  it  will  be  soon  enough 
to  attend  to  eternity.  And  thus  there 
is  no  defect  in  the  Gospel,  It  is  adapt- 
ed, with  the  nicest  precision,  to  crea- 
tures so  constituted  as  ourselves.  But 
we  live  in  the  midst  of  gorgeous  de- 
ceits, and  brilliant  meteors.  The  wiz- 
ard's skill,  and  the  I'.ecromancer's  art, 
are  busied  with  hiding  from  us  what 
we  most  need  to  know ;  and  our  eyes 
are  dazzled  by  the  splendid  apparitions 
with  which  the  god  of  this  world  peo- 
ples his  domain ;  and  our  ears  are  fas- 
cinated by  the  melodies  in  which  plea- 
sure breathes  her  incantations ;  and 
thus  it  comes  to  pass,  that  we  are  verily 
"  bewitched"  into  disobeying  the  truth. 
Would  to  God  that  we  might  all 
strive  to  break  away  from  the  seduc- 
tions and  flatteries  of  earth,  and  give 
ourselves  in  good  earnest  to  the  seek- 
ing happiness  in  hefiven.  And  what  is 
it  that  we  ask  of  men,  when  we  entreat 
them  to  escape  from  the  magician,  and 
live  for  eternity  1  Is  it  that  they  should 
be  less  intellectual,  less  philosophical? 
On  the  contrary,  religion  is  the  nurse 
of  intellect,  and  philosophy  is  tnost  no- 
ble when  doing  homage  to  revelation. 
It  is  not  intellectual  to  live  only  for 
this  world,  it  is  not  philosophical  to 
remain  ignorant  of  God.  Is  it  that  they 
should  surrender  their  pleasures,  and 
walk  a  round  of  unvaried  mortification  1 
We    ask    them    to    surrender  nothins: 


which  a  rational  being  can  approve,  or 
an  immortal  vindicate.  We  leave  them 
every  pleasure  Avhich  can  be  enjoyed 
without  a  blush,  and  remembered  with- 
out remorse.  We  ask  only  that  they 
would  flee  those  vices  whose  end  is 
death,  cultivate  those  virtues  which 
are  as  much  the  happiness  as  the  or- 
nament of  man,  and  propose  to  them- 
selves an  object  commensurate  with 
their  capacities.  This,  let  them  be  as- 
sured, is  practical  Christianity — to  shun 
what,  even  as  men,  they  should  avoid, 
and  pursue  what,  even  as  men,  they 
should  desire. 

Shall  we  not  then  beseech  the  Al- 
mighty, that  we  may  have  strength  to 
break  the  spell,  and  dissolve  the  illu- 
sion 1  The  Philistines  are  upon  us,  as 
upon  Samson,  and  we  are  yet,  it  may 
be,  in  the  lap  of  the  enchantress.  But 
all  strength  is  not  gone.  The  Spirit  of 
the  living  God  may  yet  be  entreated  j 
and  the  razor  of  divine  judgment  hath 
not  swept  off  the  seven  locks  wherein 
our  might  lies.  And  therefore,  how- 
ever bewitched,  each  amongst  us  may 
yet  struggle  with  the  sorcerer  who  has 
bound  him;  and  we  can  assure  him 
that  there  is  such  efficacy  in  hearty 
prayer  to  the  Lord,  that,  if  he  cry  for 
deliverance,  the  green  withes  shall  be 
"  as  tow  when  it  toucheth  the  fire,"  and 
the  new  cords  be  broken  like  a  thread 
from  his  arms. 


SERMON  II. 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT, 


"  Bat  none  sailh,  Where  is  God  my  Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night?" — Job,  35  :  10. 

In  regard  of  the  concerns  and  occur- i  elastic,  that  it  is  hardly  within  the 
rences  of  life,  some  men  are  always  [  power  of  ordinary  circumstances  to 
disposed  to  look  at  the  bright  side,  and  !  depress  and  overbear  them;  whilst 
others  at  the  dark.  The  tempers  and  j  others,  on  the  contrary,  are  of  so 
feelings  of  some  are  so  cheerful  and  '  gloomy  a  temperament,  that  the  least 


SONGS    m   THE    NIGHT. 


229 


of  what  is  adverse  serves  to  confound 
them.  But  if  we  can  divide  men  into 
these  classes,  when  reference  is  had 
simply  to  their  private  affairs,  we  doubt 
whether  the  same  division  will  hold, 
we  are  sure  it  will  not  in  the  same  pro- 
portion, Avhen  the  reference  is  general- 
ly to  God's  dealings  with  our  race.  In 
regard  of  these  dealings,  there  is  an  al- 
most universal  disposition  to  the  look- 
ino-  on  the  dark  side,  and  not  on  the 
bright ;  as  though  there  were  cause  for 
nothing  but  wonder,  that  a  God  of  in- 
finite love  should  permit  so  much  mis- 
ery in  any  section  of  his  intelligent 
creation.  You  find  but  iew  who  are 
ready  to  observe  what  provision  has 
been  made  for  human  happiness,  and 
what  capacities  there  are  yet  in  the 
world,  notwithstanding  its  vast  disor- 
ganization, of  ministering  to  the  satis- 
faction of  such  as  prefer  righteousness 
to  wickedness. 

Now  we  cannot  deny,  that  if  we 
merely  regard  the  earth  as  it  is,  the 
exhibition  is  one  whose  darkness  it  is 
scarcelj'  possible  to  overcharge.  But 
Avhen  you  seek  to  gather  from  the  con- 
dition of  the  Avorld  the  character  of  its 
Governor,  you  are  bound  to  consider, 
not  what  the  world  is,  but  what  it 
would  be,  if  all,  which  that  Governor 
hath  done  on  its  behalf,  were  allowed 
to  produce  its  legitimate  effect.  And 
we  are  sure,  that,  Avhen  you  set  your- 
selves to  compute  the  amount  of  what 
may  be  called  unavoidable  misery — 
that  misery  w^hich  must  equally  re- 
main, if  Christianity  possessed  unli- 
mited sway — you  would  find  no  cause 
for  wonder,  that  God  has  left  the  earth 
burdened  with  so  great  a  weight  of  sor- 
row, but  only  of  praise,  that  he  has 
provided  so  ajuply  for  the  happiness  of 
the  fallen. 

The  greatest  portion  of  the  misery 
which  is  so  pathetically  bewailed,  ex- 
ists in  spite,  as  it  were,  of  God's  bene- 
volent arrangements,  and  w^ould  be 
avoided,  if  men  were  not  bent  on  choos- 
ing the  evil,  and  rejecting  the  good. 
And  even  the  unavoidable  misery  is  so 
mitigated  by  the  provisions  of  Chris- 
tianity, that,  if  there  were  nothing  else 
to  be  borne,  the  pressure  would  not  be 
heavier  than  just  sufficed  for  the  ends 
of  moral  discipline.  There  must  be 
sorrow  on  the  earth,  so  long  as  there 
is  death}  but,  if  this  were  all,  the  cer- 


tain hope  of  resurrection  and  immor- 
tality would  dry  every  tear,  or  cause, 
at  least,  triumph  so  to  blend  with  la- 
mentation, that  the  mourner  would  be 
almost  lost  in  the  believer.     Thus  it  is 
true,  both  of  those  causes  of  unhappi- 
ness  which  would  remain,  if  Christiani- 
ty were  universally  prevalent,  and  of 
those  for  whose  removal  this  religion 
was  intended   and   adapted,  that   they 
offer  no  argument  against  the  compas- 
sions of  God.     The  attentive  observer 
may  easily  satisfy  himself,  that,  though 
for  wise  ends  a  certain  portion  of  suf- 
fering has  been  made  unavoidable,  the 
divine  dealings  with  man  are,  in    the 
largest  sense,  those  of  tenderness  and 
love,  so  that,  if  the  great  majority  of 
our  race  were  not   determined   to   be 
wretched,  enough  has  been  done  to  in- 
sure their  being  happy.    And  when  we 
come  to  give  the  reasons  why  so  vast 
an  accumulation  of  wretchedness  is  to 
be  found  in  every  district  of  the  globe, 
we  cannot  assign  the  will  and  appoint- 
ment of  God :    we   charge  the  whole 
on  man's  forgetfulness  of  God,  on  his 
contempt  or  neglect  of  remedies  and 
assuagements  divinely  provided  ;   yea, 
we  offer  in  explanation  the  words  of 
our  text,  "  none  saith,  Where  is  God 
iTiy  Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the 
night  1." 

We  shall  not  stay  to  trace  the  con- 
nection between  these  words  and  the 
preceding,  but  rather  separate  at  once 
the  text  from  the  context.  We  may 
then  consider  it  as  giving  a  beautiful 
character  of  God,  which  should  attract 
men  towards  him,  and  which  is  suffi- 
cient pledge,  that,  if  it  did,  they  would 
be  happy  even  in  the  midst  of  adversity. 
Or  we  may  regard  the  words,  when  thus 
taken  by  themselves,  as  expressive  of 
ihe  inexcusableness  of  men  in  neglect- 
ing God,  when  he  has  revealed  himself 
unller  a  character  the  most  adapted  to 
the  fixing  their  confidence.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  Elihu  represents  it  as  a  most 
strange  and  criminal  thing,  that,  though 
our  Maker  giveth  songs  in  the  night, 
he  is  not  inquired  after  by  those  on 
whom  calamity  presses.  We  may, 
therefore,  divide  what  we  have  to  say 
on  our  text  under  tw'O  general  heads  ; 
considering,  in  the  first  place,  what  an 
aggravation  it  is  of  the  guilt  of  men's 
forgetting  their  Creator,  that  he  is  a 
God  "  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night  j" 


230 


S0NG3    lit    THE    NIGHT. 


and  showing  you,  in  the  second  place, 
with  liow  great  truth  and  fitness  this 
touching  description  may  be  applied  to 
our  Maker. 

Now  we  must  all  be  conscious,  that, 
if  pain  and  suffering  were  removed 
from  the  world,  a  great  portion  of  the 
Bible  would  become  quite  inapplicable  5 
for  on  almost  its  every  page  there  are 
sayings  which  would  seem  out  of  place, 
if  addressed  to  beings  inaccessible  to 
grief.  And  it  is  one  beautiful  instance 
of  the  adaptation  of  revelation  to  our 
circumstances,  that  the  main  thing 
which  it  labors  to  set  forth  is  the  love  of 
our  Maker.  There  are  many  untouched 
points  on  which  curiosity  craves  infor- 
mation, and  on  which  apostles  and  pro- 
phets might  have  been  commissioned 
to  pour  a  tide  of  illustration.  But  there 
is  no  point  on  which  it  was  so  impor- 
tant to  us  to  be  certified,  as  on  this  of 
God's  love  towards  us,  notwithstand- 
ing our  alienation.  We  emphatically 
needed  a  revelation  to  assure  us  of  this  ; 
for  natural  theology,  whatever  its  suc- 
cess in  delineating  the  attributes  of 
God,  could  never  have  proved  that  sin 
had  not  excluded  us  from  all  share  in 
his  favor. 

And  accordingly  it  is  at  this  the 
Bible  labors;  and  thereby  it  becomes 
most  truly  the  Bible  of  the  fallen.  A 
revelation  of  God  to  a  rank  of  beings 
untainted  by  sin,  would  probably  not 
be  much  occupied  with  affirming  and 
exhibiting  the  divine  love.  There  must 
be  guilt,  and  therefore  some  measure 
of  consciousness  of  exposure  to  wrath, 
ere  there  can  be  doubt  as  to  whether 
the  work  of  God's  hands  be  still  the 
object  of  his  favor.  The  Bible  there- 
fore, if  we  may  thus  speak,  of  an  order 
of  angels,  might  contain  nothing  but 
gorgeous  descriptions  of  divine  supre- 
macy and  magnificence,  opening  the 
mightiest  mysteries,  but  having  no  re- 
ference to  the  tenderness  of  a  Father, 
which  was  always  experienced,  and 
none  to  the  forgiveness  of  sinners, 
which  was  never  required.  But  such 
a  Bible  would  be  as  much  out  of  place 
on  this  fallen  creation,  as  ours  in  a 
sphere  where  all  was  purity  and  light. 
The  revelation,  which  alone  can  profit 
us,  must  be  a  revelation  of  mercy,  a 
revelation  which  brings  God  before  us 
as  not  made  irreconcilable  by  our  many 
offences  j  a  revelation,  in  short,  which 


discloses  such  arrangements  for  our 
restoration  to  favor,  that  there  could 
be  a  night  on  which  cherubim  and  se- 
raphim lined  our  firmament,  chanting 
the  chorus,  "  peace  on  earth,  good-will 
towards  man,"  and  thus  proving  of  our 
Maker,  that  he  is  a  God  ''who  giveth 
songs  in  the  night." 

Now  you  all  know  that  this  is  the 
character  of  the  revelation  with  which 
we  have  been  favored.  Independently 
on  the  great  fact  with  which  the  Bible 
is  occupied,  the  fact  of  our  redemption 
through  the  suretyship  of  a  Mediator, 
the  inspired  writers  are  continually  af- 
firming, or  insisting  upon  proofs,  that 
the  Almighty  loves  the  human  race 
with  a  love  that  passeth  knowledge  ; 
and  they  give  us,  in  his  name,  the  most 
animating  promises,  ])romises  whose 
full  lustre  cannot  be  discerned  in  the 
sunshine,  but  only  when  the  sky  is 
overcast  with  clouds.  We  must,  for  ex- 
ample, be  ourselves  brought  to  the  very 
dust,  ere  we  can  rightly  estimate  this 
exquisite  description  of  a  being,  who 
made  the  stars,  and  holdeth  the  waters 
in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  "  God,  that 
comforteth  those  that  are  cast  down." 
We  must  know  for  ourselves  the  ago- 
ny, the  humiliation,  of  unforeseen  grief, 
ere  we  can  taste  the  sweetness  of  the 
promise,  that  God,  he  who  hath  "spread 
out  the  heavens  like  a  curtain,"  and  or- 
dereth  the  motions  of  all  the  systems 
of  a  crowded  immensitjr,  "  shall  wipe 
away  tears  from  off'  all  faces." 

But  if  God  have  thus  revealed  him- 
self in  the  manner  most  adapted  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  suffering,  does 
not  the  character  of  the  revelation 
vastly  aggravate  the  sinfulness  of  those 
by  whom  God  is  not  sought  1  Let  all 
ponder  the  simple  truth,  that  the  hav- 
ing in  their  hands  a  Bible,  which  won- 
drously  exhibits  the  tenderness  of  Dei- 
ty, will  leave  us  without  excuse,  if  not 
found  at  last  at  peace  with  our  Maker. 
For  we  are  not  naturally  inaccessible 
to  kindness.  We  are  so  constituted 
that  a  word  of  sympathy,  when  we  are 
in  trouble,  goes  at  once  to  the  heart, 
and  even  the  look  of  compassion  acts 
as  a  cordial,  and  excites  grateful  feel- 
ings. We  have  only  to  be  brought  into 
circumstances  of  pain  and  perplexity, 
and  immediately  we  show  ourselves 
acutely  sensitive  to  the  voice  of  con- 
solation ;  and  any  of  our  fellow-crca- 


SONGS    IN    THE    MGHT. 


231 


tares  has  only  to  approach  us  in  the 
character  of  a  comforter,  and  we  feel 
ourselves  drawn  out  towards  the  be- 
nevolent being,  and  give  him  at  once 
our  thankfulness  and  friendship.  But  it 
is  not  thus  with  reference  to  God.  God 
comes  to  us  in  the  hour  of  anxiety, 
bidding  us  cast  all  our  care  upon  him  ; 
but  we  look  round  for  another  resting- 
place.  He  comes  to  us  in  the  season  of 
affliction,  offering  us  the  oil  and  wine 
of  heavenly  consolation ;  but  we  hew 
out  for  ourselves  "  broken  cisterns." 
He  approaches  in  the  moment  of  dan- 
ger, proffering  us  refuge  and  succor  ; 
but  we  trust  in  our  own  strength,  or 
seek  help  from  those  who  are  weak  as 
ourselves.  But  let  us  be  well  assured 
that  this  single  circumstance,  that  God 
hath  revealed  himself  as  a  comforter, 
to  those  whose  condition  makes  them 
need  comfort,  will  prove  us  inexcusa- 
ble, if  w^e  die  without  giving  him  the 
heart's  best  affections.  He  acts  upon 
us  in  the  manner  in  which,  both  from 
our  necessities  and  our  susceptibilities, 
there  is  the  greatest  likelihood  of  our 
being  moved  to  the  making  him  the 
prime  object  of  our  love.  And  if,  not- 
withstanding, w-e  prefer  the  creature  to 
the  Creator,  what  shall  we  have  to  urge, 
when  he,  who  now  deals  with  us  in 
mercy,  begins  to  deal  with  us  in  ven- 
geance 1  Yes,  it  is  not  the  manifesta- 
tion of  majesty,  nor  of  power,  nor  of 
awfulness,  which  will  leave  us  inexcu- 
sable ;  it  is  the  manifestation  of  com- 
passion, of  good  will,  of  tenderness.  A 
fallen  and  unhappy  creature,  harassed 
by  a  thousand  griefs,  and  exposed  to  a 
thousand  perils,  might  have  shrunk 
from  exhibitions  of  Deity  on  his  throne 
of  clouds,  and  in  his  robes  of  light.  He 
might  have  pleaded  that  there  was 
every  thing  to  confound,  and  nothing 
to  encourage  him.  But  what  can  he 
say,  when  the  exhibitions  are  of  God, 
as  making  all  the  bed  of  the  sick  man 
in  his  sickness,  and  cheering  the  widow 
in  her  desolateness,  and  supplying  the 
beggar  in  his  poverty,  and  guarding  the 
outcast  in  his  exile]  Are  not  these 
exhibitions  touching  enough,  thrilling 
enough,  encouraging  enough  1  Oh,  I 
might  perhaps  have  felt  that  it  was  not 
to  prove  the  human  race  necessarily 
inexcusable  in  their  forgetfulness  of 
God,  to  sny,  none  saith,  where  is  God 
iny  Maker  who    is  "  from  everlasting, 


and  to  everlasting,"  who  "  sitteth  upon 
the  circle  of  the  earth,  and  the  inhabi- 
tants thereof  are  as  grasshoppers,"  who 
"  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars,  and 
calleth  them  all  by  their  names" — but 
I  feel  that  it  is  to  express  such  a  wilful 
hard-heartedness  as  must  demand  and 
justify  the  severest  condemnation,  to 
say,  "  none  saith,  where  is  God  my 
Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night  '." 

But  we  now  proceed  to  the  showing 
you,  as  we  proposed  in  the  second 
place,  with  how  great  truth  and  fitness 
this  touching  description  may  be  ap- 
plied to  our  Maker. 

We  have  already  referred  to  the  pre- 
cise adaptation  of  the  Bible  to  our  cir- 
cumstances, and  we  would  now  exam- 
ine this  adaptation  with  a  little  more 
attention.  We  rhay  assert  that  there 
cannot  be  imagined,  much  less  found, 
the  darkness,  in  passing  through  which 
there  is  no  promise  of  Scripture  by 
which  you  may  be  cheered.  We  care 
not  what  it  is  which  hath  woven  the 
darkness  ;  we  are  sure  that  God  has 
made  provision  for  his  people's  exult- 
ing, rather  than  lamenting,  as  the  gloom 
gathers  round  them,  and  settles  over 
them.  Whatever  be  the  nature  of  the 
afflictions  with  which  any  man  has  been 
visited,  can  he  deny,  if  indeed  he  be 
one  who  has  received  Christ  into  the 
soul,  that  he  has  found  ''a  word  in  sea- 
son" in  Scripture;  will  he  not,  at  the 
least,  confess,  that,  if  he  have  passed 
through  the  period  of  calamity  without 
experiencing  such  consolations  as  filled 
him  with  gratitude,  it  has  been  through 
his  own  fault  and  faithlessness,  seeing 
that  even  the  "vale  of  Baca"  can  be 
used  by  the  righteous  ''as  a  well." 

Let  us  take  the  case  of  most  frequent 
occurrence,  but  of  which  frequency 
diminishes  nothing  of  the  bitterness. 
We  mean  the  case  of  the  loss  of  friends, 
the  case  in  which  death  makes  way  into 
a  family,  and  carries  ofl'one  of  the  most 
beloved  of  its  members.  It  is  night — 
deep  night,  in  a  household,  whenso- 
ever this  occurs.  When  the  loss  is  of 
another  kind,  it  may  admit  of  repair. 
Property  may  be  injured,  some  cher- 
i  ished  plan  may  be  frustrated — but  in- 
I  dustry  may  be  again  successful,  and 
j  hope  maj'-  (ix  its  eye  on  other  objects. 
But  when  those  whom  we  love  best 
die,  there  is  no  comfort  of  this  sort 
with  which  we  can  be  comforted.    For 


232 


SONGS    IN    THK    NIGIiT. 


a  time,  at  least,  the  loss  seems  irrepa- 
rable ;  so  that,  though  the  wounded 
sensibilities  may  afterwards  be  healed, 
and  even  turn  to  the  living  as  they 
turned  to  the  dead,  yet,  whilst  the  cala- 
mity is  fresh,  we  repulse,  as  injurious, 
the  thought  that  the  void  in  our  affec- 
tions can  ever  be  filled, and  are  persuad- 
ed that  the  blank  in  the  domestic  group 
can  be  occupied  by  nothing  but  the 
hallowed  meinory  of  the  buried.  It  is 
therefore  night  in  the  household,  dark- 
ness, a  darkness  that  may  be  felt.  And 
philosophy  comes  in,  with  its  well- 
meant  but  idle  endeavors  to  console 
those  who  sit  in  this  darkness.  It  can 
speak  of  the  unavoidableness  of  death, 
of  the  duty  of  bearing  with  manly  for- 
titude what  cannot  be  escaped,  of  the 
injuriousness  of  excessive  grief;  and  it 
may  even  hazard  a  conjecture  of  re- 
union in  some  world  beyond  the  grave. 
And  pleasure  approaches  with  its  al- 
lurements and  fascinations,  offering  to 
cheat  the  mind  into  forgetfulness,  and 
wile  the  heart  from  its  sadness.  But 
neither  philosophy  nor  pleasure  can 
avail  any  thing  in  the  chamber  of  death; 
the  taper  of  the  one  is  too  faint  for  so 
oppressive  a  gloom,  and  the  torch  of 
the  other  burns  sickly  in  so  unwonted 
an  atmosphere.  Is  then  the  darkness 
such  that  those  whom  it  envelopes  are 
incapable  of  being  comforted  l  Oh,  not 
so.  There  may  be  those  amongst  your- 
selves who  can  testify,  that,  even  in  a 
night  so  dreary  and  desolate,  there  is 
a  source  whence  consolation  may  be 
drawn.  The  promises  of  Scripture 
are  never  more  strikingly  fulfilled  than 
when  death  has  made  an  inroad,  and 
taken  away,  at  a  stroke,  some  object 
of  deep  love.  Indeed,  it  is  God's  own 
word  to  the  believer,  "  I  will  be  with 
him  in  trouble" — as  though  that  pre- 
sence, which  can  never  be  withdrawn, 
then  became  more  real  and  intense. 

What  are  we  to  say  of  cases  which 
continually  present  themselves  to  tiie 
parochial  minister?  He  enters  a  house, 
whose  darkened  windows  proclaim  that 
one  of  its  inmates  is  stretched  out  a 
corpse.  He  finds  that  it  is  the  fairest 
and  dearest  whom  death  has  made  his 
prey,  and  that  the  blow  has  fallen 
where  sure  to  be  most  deeply  felt.  And 
he  is  prepared  for  the  burst  of  bitter 
sorrow.  He  knows  that  the  heart,  when 
most  purified  by  grace,  is  made  of  feel- 


ing stuff;  for  grace,  which  removes  the 
heart  of  stone,  and  substitutes  that  of 
flesh,  will  refine,  rather  than  extinguish, 
human  sensibilities.  But  what  words 
does  he  hear  from  lips,  whence  nothing 
but  lamentation  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  issue  1  "  The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord."  The  mother 
will  rise  up  from  the  side  of  her  pale 
still  child  ;  and  though  on  the  cheek 
of  that  child  (alas,  never  again  to  be 
warm  with  affection)  there  are  tears 
which  show  how  a  parent's  grief  has 
overflowed,  she  Avill  break  into  the  ex- 
clamation of  the  Psalmist,  "  I  will  sing 
of  mercy  and  judgment,  unto  thee,  O 
Lord,  will  I  sing."  And  when,  a  few 
days  after,  the  slow  windings  of  the  fu- 
neral procession  are  seen,  and  the  mi- 
nister advances  to  meet  the  train,  and 
pours  forth  the  rich  and  inspiriting 
words,  "  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the 
Life,  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though 
he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live  " — is  it 
only  the  low  murmur  of  suppressed 
anguish  by  which  he  is  answered"? 
can  he  not  feel  that  there  are  those  in 
the  group  whose  hearts  bound  at  the 
magnificent  announcement  ]  and,  as  he 
looks  at  the  mourners,  does  he  not  ga- 
ther, from  the  uplifted  eye  and  the 
moving  lip,  that  there  is  one  at  least 
who  is  triumphing  in  the  fulfilment 
of  the  prediction,  "  0  death,  I  will  be 
thy  plagues ;  0  grave,  I  will  be  thy 
destruction  V 

And  what  are  we  to  say  to  these 
things  1  what  but  that,  in  the  deepest 
moral  darkness,  there  can  be  music, 
music  which  sounds  softer  and  sweeter 
than  by  day ;  and  that,  when  the  in- 
struments of  human  melody  are  broken, 
there  is  a  hand  which  can  sweep  the 
heartstrings  and  wake  the  notes  of 
praise  1  Yes,  philosophy  can  communi- 
cate no  comfort  to  the  afflicted  :  it  may 
enter  where  all  is  night ;  but  it  leaves 
what  it  found,  even  weeping  and  wail- 
ing. And  pleasure  may  take  the  lyre, 
whose  strains  have  often  seduced  and 
enchanted ;  but  the  worn  and  Avearied 
spirit  has  no  ear,  in  the  gloom,  for 
what  sounded  magically,  when  a  thou- 
sand lights  were  blazing.  But  religion, 
faith  in  the  promises  of  that  God  Avho 
is  the  Husband  of  the  widow  and  the 
Father  of  the  fatherless,  this  can  cause 
the  sorrowing  to  be  crlad  in  the  midst 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT. 


23.- 


oi"  their  sorrow;  for  it  is  a  description 
\vhich  every  believer  will  confess  borne 
out  by  experience,  that  God  our  Maker 
"  2:iveth  songs  in  the  night." 

But  again — how  beautifully  accurate 
is  this  description,  if  referred  general- 
ly to  God's  spiritual  dealings  with  our 
race.  It  may  well  be  said,  that,  so 
soon  as  man  had  fallen,  it  was  night  on 
this  creation.  The  creature  had  shut 
itself  out  from  the  favor  of  the  Creator  ; 
and  what  was  this  but  to  shroud  the 
globe  with  the  worst  of  all  darkness'? 
Ji  was  a  darkness  which  no  efiorts  of 
tlie  human  mind  have  been  able  to  dis- 
perse. There  is  a  point  up  to  which 
natural  theology  has  advanced,  but 
which  it  has  never  passed.  It  has  dis- 
covered a  want,  but  not  a  supply;  it 
ills  detected  a  disease,  but  not  its  re- 
iiicdy.  We  do  not  perhaps  need  the 
written  word,  in  order  to  our  ascer- 
inining  that  we  are  exposed  to  God's 
wrath.  The  remonstrances  and  forebo- 
dings of  conscience  are,  in  themselves, 
suliicient  to  excite  in  us  a  belief  and 
dread  of  judgment  to  come,  and  per- 
haps to  extort  from  us  the  inquiry, 
■'  \Vhat  must  I  do  to  be  saved  V  But 
the  answer  to  this  inquiry  can  be  fur- 

-hed  only  by  a  higher  and  deeper 
u  natural  theology.  We  make  some 
V.  .ly  by  groping  in  the  darkness,  but 
cannot  emerge  into  the  light. 

But,  God  be  thanked,  man  was  not 
left  to  complain,  and  lament,  in  the 
midst  of  that  darkness  which  his  apos- 
tacy  wove.  There  were  provisions  for 
his  rescue,  which  came  into  force  »t 
the  moment  of  transgression.  No  soon- 
er had  man  fallen  than  prophecy,  in  the 
form  of  a  promise,  took  the  span  of 
time,  and  gathered  into  a  sentence  the 
moral  history  of  the  world.  And  we 
have  great  reason  for  believing  that 
even  unto  Adam  did  this  promise  speak 
of  good  things  to  come,  and  that  he 
was  comforted,  in  his  exile  from  Para- 
dise, by  the  hope  which  it  gave  him  of 
final  deliverance.  Compelled  though  he 
was  to  till  an  earth,  on  which  rested 
the  curse  of  its  Creator,  he  may  have 
known  that  there  was  blessing  in  store; 
and  that,  though  he  and  his  children 
must  dig  the  ground  in  the  sweat  of 
their  brow,  there  would  fall  on  it  a 
sweat  like  great  drops  of  blood,  having 
virtue  to  remove  the  oppressive  male- 
diction. It  must  have  been  bitter  to  him 


to  hear  of  the  thorn  and  the  thistle  ;  but 
he  may  have  learnt  how  thorns  would 
be  woven  into  a  crown,  and  placed 
round  the  forehead  of  one  who  should 
be  the  lost  "tree  of  life"  toadying 
creation.  It  was  only  to  have  been  ex- 
pected, when  the  fatal  act  had  been 
committed,  that  there  would  have  as- 
cended from  the  earth  one  fearful  cry, 
and  that  then  an  eternal  silence  would 
have  covered  the  desecrated  globe. 
But,  in  place  of  this— though  the  ga- 
thered night  was  not  at  once  disper- 
sed— there  still  went  up  the  anthem  of 
praise  from  lowing  herds,  and  waving 
corn,  and  stately  forests;  and  man,  in 
his  exile,  had  an  evening  and  a  morn- 
ing hynm,  which  spake  gratefully  of 
the  head  of  the  serpent  as  bruised  by 
the  seed  of  the  woman — and  all  because 
God  had  already  discovered  himself  as 
our  Maker  "  who  giveth  songs  in  the 
night." 

Thus  also  it  has  been,  and  is,  with  in- 
dividual cases.  There  may  be  many  in 
this  assembly  who  have  known  what  it 
is  to  be  oppressed  with  apprehensions 
of  God's  wrath  against  sin.  They  have 
passed  through  that  dreary  season, 
when  conscience,  often  successfully  re- 
sisted, or  dragged  into  slumber,  migh- 
tily asserts  its  authority,  arrays  the 
transgressions  of  a  life,  and  anticipates 
the  penalties  of  an  eternity.  And  we 
say  of  the  man  who  is  sufiering  from 
conviction  of  sin,  that  it  is  more  truly 
night  with  him,  the  night  of  the  soul, 
than  with  the  most  wretched  of  those 
on  whom  lie  the  burdens  of  temporal 
wo.  And  natural  theology,  as  we  have 
already  stated,  can  offer  no  encourage- 
ment in  this  utter  midnight.  It  may 
have  done  its  part  in  producing  the 
convictions,  but,  in  so  doing,  must  have 
exhausted  its  resources.  All  its  efforts 
must  have  been  directed  to  the  furnish- 
ing demonstrations  of  the  inflexible 
government  of  a  God  of  justice  and 
righteousness  ;  and  the  more  powerful 
these  demonstrations,  the  more  would 
they  shut  up  the  transgressor  to  the 
certainty  of  destruction.  And  never- 
theless, after  a  time,  you  find  the  man, 
who  had  been  brought  into  so  awful  a 
darkness,  and  for  whose  comfort  there 
is  nothing  to  be  gained  from  natural 
theology,  walking  in  gladness,  with  a 
lightened  heart  and  a  buoyant  spirit. 
What  could  not  be  found  in  the  stores 
30 


234 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT. 


of  natural  theology,  has  been  found  in 
those  of  revealed  intelligence,  that  God 
can,  at  the  same  time,  be  just  and  a 
justifier,  that  sinners  can  be  pardoned, 
and  sins  not  go  unpunished.  Therefore 
is  it  that  he  who  was  in  darkness,  the 
darkness  of  the  soul,  is  now  lifting  up 
his  head  with  joy,  and  exulting  in  hope. 
The  Spirit  of  God,  which  produced  the 
conviction,  has  taken  of  the  things  of 
Christ,  and,  showing  them  to  the  soul, 
made  them  effectual  to  conversion. 
And  we  call  upon  you  to  compare  the 
man  in  these  two  estates.  With  his  con- 
sciousness of  the  evil  of  sin  heighten- 
ed, rather  than  diminished,  you  find 
him  changed  from  the  desponding  into 
the  triumphant ;  exhibiting,  in  the  larg- 
est measure,  the  accomplishment  of  the 
words,  that  there  shall  be  given  ''  beau- 
ty for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourn- 
ing, and  the  garment  of  praise  for  the 
spirit  of  heaviness."  You  can  offer  no 
account  of  this  surprising  transforma- 
tion, whilst  you  search  for  its  reasons 
in  natural  causes.  But  when  you  ap- 
peal to  the  workings  of  Omnipotence  ; 
Avhen  you  tell  us  of  a  propitiation  for 
sin ;  when  you  refer  to  a  divine  agent, 
whose  special  office  it  is,  to  bring  men 
to  put  faith  in  a  sacrifice  which  recon- 
ciled a  guilty  world  to  its  Creator — 
then  you  leave  no  cause  for  surprise, 
that,  from  a  soul,  round  which  had  ga- 
thered deep  and  stern  shadows,  there 
should  be  ascending  the  rich  notes  of 
praise,  and  the  stirring  strains  of  hope  ; 
but  then  you  are  only  proving  with 
what  exquisite  truth  it  may  be  said, 
that  God  our  Maker  "  giveth  songs  in 
the  night." 

We  might  easily  multiply  our  illus- 
trations.    We  might  follow  the  believ- 
er through  all  the   stages  of  his  pro- 
gress from  earth  to  heaven ;  and  where- 
soever   you    could    show  that  it  was 
night,  there  could  we  show  you  that 
God  "  giveth  songs."    It  is  not  that  he 
giveth  no  songs  in  the  day ;  for  he  is 
with  his  people,    and   he   wakes  their 
praises,  in  all  time  of  their  wealth,  as 
well  as  in  all  time  of  their  tribulation.  ! 
But  it  is  our  nature  to  rejoice  when  all  | 
within  and  without  is  undisturbed  ;  the  i 
miracle  is  to  ''rejoice  in  tribulation;"  ] 
and  this  miracle  is  continually  wrought  j 
as    the  believer   presses    through    the  ! 
wilderness.    The   harp   of  the  human 
spirit  never  yields  such  sweet  music,  ' 


as  when  its  framework  is  most  shat- 
tered, and  its  strings  are  most  torn. 
Then  it  is,  when  the  world  pronounces 
the  instrument  useless,  and  man  would 
put  it  away  as  incapable  of  melody, 
that  the  finger  of  God  delights  in 
touching  it,  and  draws  from  it  a  fine 
swell  of  harmony.  Come  night,  come 
calamity,  come  affliction.  God  still 
says  to  his  people,  as  he  said  to  the 
Jews,  when  expecting  the  irruption  of 
the  Assyrian,  "  ye  shall. have  a  song,  as 
in  the  night." 

Is  it  the  loss  of  property  Avith  which 
believers  are  visited  1  Our  Maker  "giv- 
eth songs  in  the  night,"  and  the  chorus 
is  heard,  we  have  in  heaven  "a  better, 
even  an  enduring  substance."  Is  it  the 
loss  of  friends]  Our  Maker,  as  we 
have  shown  you,  "  giveth  songs  in  the 
night;"  they  "sorrow  not,  even  as 
others  which  have  no  hope  ;"  and  over 
the  very  grave  is  heard  the  fine  con- 
fession, "  Blessed  are  the  dead  which 
die  in  the  Lord."  Have  they  their  sea- 
sons of  spiritual  depression,  when  they 
cannot  realize  their  privileges,  nor  as- 
sure themselves  of  acceptance  with 
Godl  Indeed  this  is  hard  to  bear — 
perhaps  the  severest  of  the  trials  which 
they  are  called  to  endure.  This  was 
David's  case,  when  he  pathetically  ex- 
claimed, "Deep  calleth  unto  deep,  at 
the  noise  of  thy  water-spouts  ;  all  thy 
waves  and  thy  billows  are  gone  over 
me."  Yet  the  Psalmist  could  go  on,  in 
the  very  next  verse,  to  declare,  "  The 
Lord  will  command  his  loving-kindness 
in  the  day-time,  and  in  the  night  his 
song  shall  be  with  me."  And  no  be- 
liever holds  fast  Ills  confidence,  as  Da- 
vid did,  Avithout  proving,  that,  if  God 
hide  for  a  while  the  liglit  of  his  coun- 
tenance, it  is  in  order  to  make  it  more 
valued  ;  without  finding  cause  to  break 
into  the  song,  "  it  is  good  for  me  that 
I  was  afflicted."  Let  the  thickest  night 
gather;  let  death  be  at  hand;  and 
shall  it  be  said  that  our  text  fails  of 
accomplishment!  On  the  contrary,  it 
is  here  emphatically  true  that  our  Ma- 
ker "giveth  songs  in  the  night."  The 
believer  in  Christ  knows  and  feels  that 
his  Redeemer  "hath  abolished  death." 
He  is  not  insensible  to  the  terrors  of 
death  ;  for  he  regards  the  separation  of 
soul  and  body  as  a  direct  consequence 
of  the  original  curse,  and  therefore  aw- 
ful and  disastrous.   I3ut  then  he  is  so 


SOXGS    IN    THE    NIGHT. 


235 


assured  of  immortality  and  a  resurrec- 
tion, that  he  can  approach  the  grave 
with  confidence,  and  even  exult  that 
his  departure  is  at  hand.  What  upholds 
the  dying  man  \  What  throws  over  his 
wasted  countenance  that  air  of  sereni- 
ty ]  What  prompts  those  expressions 
of  peace,  those  breathings  of  hope, 
which  seem  so  little  in  accordance 
with  his  circumstances  of  trouble  and 
decay]  It  is  that  God  is  whispering  to 
his  soul  such  words  as  these,  "  Fear 
thou  not,  for  I  am  v/ith  thee ;  be  not 
dismayed,  for  I  am  thy  God;  I  will 
strengthen  thee,  yea,  I  will  help  thee." 
It  is  that  his  Maker  is  reminding  him 
of  the  pledge,  that  death  shall  be  swal- 
lowed up  in  victory ;  that  he  is  already 
causing  the  minstrelsy  of  the  eternal 
city  to  come  stealing  on  his  ear — and 
is  not  all  this  the  most  convincing  and 
touching  evidence,  that  God  our  Maker 
'-'  giveth  songs  in  the  night  V 

Who  would  not  be  a  believer  in 
Christ,  who  would  not  be  at  peace  with 
God  ?  When  such  are  the  privileges  of 
righteousness,  the  privileges  through 
life,  the  privileges  in  death,  the  won- 
der is,  that  all  are  not  eager  to  close 
with  the  offers  of  the  Gospel,  and  make 
those  privileges  their  own.  Yet,  alas, 
the  ministers  of  Christ  have  to  ex- 
claim, with  the  prophet,  "  who  hath 
believed  our  report  1"  and,  with  Elihu, 
"none  saith,  where  is  God  my  Maker, 
who  giveth  songs  in  the  ni^ht  1"  There 
may  yet  be  moral  insensibility  in  num- 
bers who  hear  me.  What  shall  we  say 
to  theml  They  may  have  youth  on 
their  side,  and  health,  and  plenty.  The 
sky  may  be  clear,  and  the  voice  of  joy 
may  be  heard  in  their  dwelling.    But 


there  must  come  a  night,  a  dreary  and 
oppressive  night;  for  youth  myst  de- 
part, and  strength  be  enfeebled,  and 
sorrow  encountered,  and  the  shadows 
of  evening  fall  upon  the  path.  And 
what  will  they  do  then,  if  now,  as  God 
complains  by  his  prophet,  "  the  harp 
and  the  viol,  the  tabret,  and  pipe,  and 
wine,  are  in  their  feasts,  but  they  re- 
gard not  the  work  of  the  Lord,  neither 
consider  the  operation  of  his  hands  1" 
They  may  have  their  song  now;  but 
then  we  shall  have  only  the  bitter  ex- 
clamation, "  the  harvest  is  passed,  the 
summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not  sav- 
ed." We  warn  you  in  time.  Though 
the  firmament  be  bright,  we  show  you 
the  cloud,  small  as  a  man's  hand,  al- 
ready rising  from  the  sea  ;  and  we  urge 
you  to  the  breaking  loose  from  habits 
of  sin,  and  fleeing  straightway  to  the 
Mediator  Christ.  It  is  for  baubles 
which  they  despise  when  acquired, 
wealth  which  they  count  nothing  when 
gained,  gratifications  which  they  loathe 
so  soon  as  passed,  that  men  sell  their 
souls.  And  all  that  we  now  entreat  of 
the  young,  is,  that  they  will  not,  in  the 
spring-time  of  life,  strike  this  foul  bar- 
gain. In  the  name  of  Him  who  made 
you,  we  beseech  you  to  separate  your- 
selves at  once  from  evil  practices  and 
evil  associates ;  lest,  in  that  darkest  of 
all  darkness,  when  the  sun  is  to  be 
"  black  as  sackcloth  of  hair,"  and  the 
moon  as  blood,  and  the  stars  are  to  fall, 
you  may  utter  nothing  but  the  passion- 
ate cry  of  despair  ;  whilst  the  righte- 
ous are  lifting  up  their  heads  with  joy, 
and  proving  that  they  have  trusted 
in  a  God  "  who  giveth  songs  in  the 
night." 


236 


TESTIMONY    CONFIRMED    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


SERMON  III. 


TESTIMONY   CONFIRMED   BY  EXPERIENCE. 


'  As  we  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in  the  city  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  in  the  city  of  onr  God ;  God  will 
establish  it  for  ever." — Psdm  48:  8. 


There  is  a  very  striking  part  in  the 
Litany  of  our  church,  when,  between 
two  earnest  supplications  for  deliver- 
ance, God  is  reminded  of  the  great 
things  which  he  had  wrought  in  form- 
er times.  The  supplications  to  which 
we  refer  are  put  into  the  mouths  of  the 
people.  "  O  Lord,  arise,  help  us,  and 
deliver  us  for  thy  name's  sake."  "  0 
Lord,  arise,  help  us,  and  deliver  us  for 
thine  honor."  Between  these  the  mi- 
nister is  directed  to  exclaim,  "O  God, 
we  have  heard  with  our  ears,  and  our 
fathers  have  declared  unto  us,  the  no- 
ble works  that  thou  didst  in  their  days, 
and  in  the  old  time  before  them."  We 
are  always  much  struck  with  this  ex- 
clamation, and  with  the  consequent  al- 
teration in  the  plea  with  which  the 
people  urge  their  suit  for  deliverance. 
In  the  first  petition  it  is,  "  deliver  us 
for  thy  name's  sake  ;"  in  the  second, 
"  deliver  us  for  thine  honor."  The  mi- 
nister has  heard  the  congregation  in- 
voking God  to  come  forth  to  their  suc- 
cor, and  humbly  reminding  him  how 
consistent  it  would  be  with  all  the  at- 
tributes of  his  nature — for  these  are 
included  in  his  name — to  comply  with 
their  earnest  supplication.  And  then 
the  minister,  as  though  he  knew  that 
there  was  yet  higher  ground  which 
the  people  might  take,  commemorates 
the  marvellous  interpositions  of  which 
olden  times  had  set  down  the  records, 
reminding  the  congregation,  by  making 
confession  to  God,  of  deliverances 
wrought  on  behalf  of  their  fathers. 
The  people  are  animated  by  the  recol- 
lection. They  feel  that  God  has  pledg- 
ed himself,  by  former  answers  to  prayer, 
to  arise,  and  shield  those  who  cast  them- 
selves on  his  help.    His  own  glory  has 


become  concerned  in  the  not  leaving 
such  to  perish  ;  and  shall  they  not  then, 
with  fresh  confidence,  reiterate  their 
petition  1  No  sooner  therefore  has  the 
minister  commemorated  God's  mer- 
cies, than  the  people,  as  though  they 
had  a  new  source  of  hope,  press  their 
suit  with  yet  greater  earnestness;  and 
their  voices  mingle  in  the  cry,  ''  O 
Lord,  arise,  help  us,  and  deliver  us  for 
thine  honor."  Is  not  this  portion  of 
our  Litany  constructed  on  the  princi- 
ple, that,  what  we  have  heard  of  God's 
doings  in  other  times,  we  may  expect 
to  see  or  experience  in  our  own,  pro- 
vided onljr  there  be  similarity  of  cir- 
cumstance! are  not,  in  short,  the  ex- 
clamation of  the  minister,  and  the  con- 
sequent petition  of  the  people,  the  ex- 
pressions of  a  hope,  or  rather  a  belief, 
that  the  words  of  our  text  shall  again 
be  appropriate,  "as  we  have  heard,  so 
have  we  seen,  in  the  city  of  the  Lord 
of  Hosts'?" 

It  must  have  been  to  some  special 
instance  in  which  God  had  wrought  a 
deliverance,  parallel  to  one  celebrated 
in  Jewish  annals,  that  reference  is  made 
in  our  text.  The  statement  is  exactly 
what  would  be  uttered,  if  the  parties, 
who  have  joined  in  the  quoted  sen- 
tences of  our  Litany,  were  to  become 
the  subjects  of  a  divine  interposition, 
similar  to  those  which  the  minister 
commemorated.  But  it  is  observed  by 
Bishop  Horsley,  that  there  is  no  record- 
ed interference  of  God  on  behalf  of 
Jerusalem,  which  answers  to  the  lan- 
guage employed  in  this  Psalm.  And  it 
is  therefore  probable  that  a  prophetic, 
or,  at  least,  a  spiritual  interpretation 
must  be  given  to  the  hymn.  Indeed 
there  are  expressions  which  will  not 


TESTIMONY   CONFIRMED    BY   EXPERIENCE. 


237 


admit  of  being  applied  to  the  literal 
Jerusalem.  Thus,  ia  our  text,  it  is  said 
of  the  city  of  our  God,  "  God  will  es- 
tablish it  for  ever  " — a  prediction  which 
cannot  belong  to  the  metropolis  of  Ju- 
dea,  which  was  often  given  up  to  the 
spoiler,  but  which  holds  good  of  that 
spiritual  city,  the  Church  of  God,  a- 
aofainst  which  Christ  declared  that  "the 


principle  or  fact;  designing  to  adduce, 
if  possible,  the  most  practical,  as  well 
as  the  most  apposite  instances,  in 
which  men  may  say,  "  as  we  have 
heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in  the  city  of 
the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

Now  we  shall  begin  with  an  applica- 
tion of  the  principle  involved  in  our 
text,   which  has  been   made  at  great 


gates  of  hell  shall  never  prevail."  And  \  length  by  modern  writers,*  and  Avhose 


when,  towards  the  conclusion  of  the 
Psalm,  the  succored  people  are  bidden 
to  march  in  joyful  procession  round 
their  beautiful  city,  that  they  might  see 
how  unscathed  were  its  walls,  how  glo- 


importance  seems  to  claim  for  it  the 
closest  attention.  We  refer  to  the  way 
in  which  men  reach  their  persuasion 
that  the  Bible  is  God's  word  ;  for  they 
evidently,   for  the  most   part,  receive 


rious  its  structures — "  walk  about  Zion,    the  Bible  as  inspired,  long  before  they 


and  go  round  about  her;  tell  the  tow- 
ers thereof;  mark  ye  well  her  bul- 
warks, consider  her  palaces,  that  ye 
may  tell  it  to  the  generation  following  " 
— you  can  scarcely  fail  to  feel,  that  the 
thing  enjoined  is  the  considering  and 
admiring  the  privileges  and  securities 
of  the  church,  in  order  that  we  may 
both  prize  them  ourselves,  and  be  in- 
cited to  the  preserving  them  for  our 
children. 

We  may  therefore  regard  our  text 


can  prove  any  thing  in  regard  of  its  in- 
spiration. We  put  the  Bible  into  the 
hands  of  our  children,  as  the  word  of 
the  living  God,  and  therefore  demand- 
ing a  reverence  which  can  be  claimed 
by  no  other  volume  in  the  whole  circle 
of  authorship.  And  our  children  grow 
up  with  what  might  almost  be  called 
an  innate  persuasion  of  the  inspiration 
of  Scripture  ;  they  are  all  but  born  with 
the  belief;  and  they  carry  it  with  them 
to  riper  years,  rather  as  a  received  ax- 


as  uttered  by  members  of  the  Church    iom,  than  as  a  demonstrated  verity.    It 


of  Christ,  that  city  of  God  which  is 
made  glad  by  the  streams  of  the  river 
of  life.  It  is  an  assertion,  made  by  those 
Avho  had  fled  to  the  church  for  safety, 
expecting  deliverance  within  its  walls, 


is  almost  exclusively  on  hearsay,  if  we 
may  use  the  word,  that  the  Bible  is 
taken  as  divine,  and  the  Apocrypha 
passed  by  as  human  ;  so  that  numbers, 
who  are  perhaps  strenuous  for  the  right 


that  their  own  experience  bore  out  to  |  of  private  judgment,  do  virtually,  in  the 


the  letter  what  had  been  reported  by 
the  believers  of  other  days.  The  differ- 
ence between  hearing  and  seeing,  of 
which  they  make  mention,  is  the  differ- 
ence between  receiving  truth  on  the 
testimonj^  of  others,  and  the  being  our- 
selves its  witnesses — a  distinction  such 
as  that  which  the  patriarch  Job  drew, 
when  humbled  through  a  personal  ac 


most  important  matter,  receive  and  re- 
ject on  the  sole  authority  of  the  church. 
And  it  is  well  that  it  is  so.  If  there 
were  nothing  of  this  taking  upon  trust ; 
if  every  man,  in  place  of  having  to  set 
himself  to  the  perusal  of  a  volume  which 
he  regards  as  divine,  must  first  pick 
out  by  laborious  study,  from  all  the  au- 
thorship  of  antiquity,   the   few    pages 


quaintance  with   the  dealings  of  God,    which  really  bear  the  signature  of  hea 

"  I  have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing 

of  the  ear,  but   now  mine  eye  seeth 

thee ;  wherefore  I  abhor   myself,  and 

repent  in  dust  and  ashes."    And  the 

great   principle,   or  fact,  which  it  will 

become  us  to  endeavor  to  establish  and 

illustrate,  in  discoursing  on  our  text, 

is,  that  before  there  is  any  personal  ex- 


ven,  there  would  be  an  arrest  on  the 
progress  of  Christianity  ;  for  the  life  of 
each  would  be  exhausted,  ere  he  had 
constructed  the  book  by  which  he  must 
be  guided.  And  yet  it  cannot  be  taken 
as  a  very  satisfactory  account  of  hu- 
man belief,  that  it  thus  follows  upon 
human  biddinsf.    But  it  is  here,  as  we 


perience  in  matters  of  religion,  there  j  believe,  that  the  principle  of  our  text 


may  be  an  acting  on  the  experience  of 
others,  and  that,  wheresoever  this  is 
faithfully  done,  the  personal  experience 
will  be  the  probable  result.  We  pro- 
ceed at    once   to  the   exhibiting   this 


comes  beautifully  into  operation.    The 
church,  like  a  parent  of  a  family,  gives 


*  Particularly  Dr.  Chalmers,  in  the  fourth    vo- 
lume of  his  works. 


238 


TESTIMONY    CONFIRMED    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


a  volume  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
join  her  communion,  bidding  them  re- 
ceive it  as  divine,  and  study  it  as  the 
word  which  can  alone  guide  them  to 
glory.  And  her  members,  like  the  chil- 
dren of  the  household,  have  no  better 
reason,  at  first,  for  receiving  the  Bible 
as  inspired,  than  because  they  have 
heard  so  in  the  city  of  the  Lord.  They 
yield  so  much  of  respect  to  the  direc- 
tions of  their  authorized  teachers,  or 
to  the  impressions  which  have  been 
graven  on  them  from  infancy,  as  to  give 
their  homage  to  a  volume  which  is  pre- 
sumed to  bear  so  lofty  a  character. 
But  then,  though  it  may  thus  be  on 
hearsay  that  they  first  receive  the  Bi- 
ble as  inspired,  it  is  not  on  hearsay  that 
they  continue  to  receive  it.  We  speak 
now  of  those  who  have  searched  the 
Scriptures  for  everlasting  life,  and  who 
feel  that  they  have  found  therein  a  re- 
velation of  the  alone  mode  of  forgive- 
ness. We  speak  of  those  in  whom  the 
Avord  has  ''  wrought  effectually  ;"  and 
we  confidently  affirm  of  them,  that, 
though  at  one  time  they  believed  in 
the  inspiration  of  the  canonical  Scrip- 
tures, because  their  parents  taught  it, 
or  their  ministers  maintained  it,  yet 
now  are  they  in  possession  of  a  per- 
sonal, experimental,  evidence,  which  is 
thoroughly  conclusive  on  this  funda- 
mental point.  It  is  not  that  they  have 
gone  through  the  laborious  demonstra- 
tions by  which  the  learned  have  sus- 
tained the  claims  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments.  It  is  comparatively  a  very 
small  fraction  of  a  community  who  can 
examine  the  grounds  on  which  the 
church  rests  her  judgment;  and  it  is 
with  the  case  of  the  great  mass  that 
we  now  wish  to  deal. 

But  we  will  give  you  what  we  reck- 
on the  history  of  the  uneducated  be- 
liever, so  far  as  his  acquaintance  with 
revelation  is  concerned.  He  may  per- 
haps have  been  neglected  in  boyhood, 
so  that  he  has  grown  up  in  ignorance ; 
but  he  is  visited  by  the  minister  of  his 
parish  in  some  seasons  of  affliction, 
when  the  ruggedness  of  his  nature  is  j 
somewhat  worn  down  by  sorrow.  The  | 
minister  presses  upon  him  the  study  of 
the  Bible,  as  of  the  word  of  his  Crea- 
tor, assuring  him  that  he  will  therein 
find  God's  will  as  revealed  by  his  Spirit. 
The  cottager  has  undoubtedly  heard  of 
the  Bible  before ;  and  it  is  no  news  to 


him,  that  it  passes  as  a  more  than  hu- 
man book.    But  he  has  never  yet  given 
heed  to  what  he  heard  :  the  book  has 
been    unopened,    notwithstanding    the 
high  claims  which  it  was  known  to  ad- 
vance.    But  now,  softened  by  the  min- 
ister's   kindness,    and    moved    by    his 
statements,  he  sets  himself  diligently 
to  the  perusal  of  Scripture,  and  stated- 
ly attends  its  Sabbath  expositions.  And 
thus,  though  he  is  acting  only  what  he 
has  heard,  he  brings  himself  under  the 
self-evidencing  power  of  Scripture,  that 
power  by  which  the  contents  of  the  Bi- 
ble serve   as  its  credentials.    And  this 
self-evidencing    power  is  wonderfully 
great.     The  more  than  human  know- 
ledge which  the  Scripture  displays  in 
regard  of  the  most  secret  workings  of 
the  heart ;   the  marvellous   and  uner- 
ring precision  with  which  the  provis- 
ions of  the  Gospel  adapt  themselves  to 
the  known  wants  and  disabilities  of  our 
nature;  the  constancy  with  which  the 
promises  and  directions  of  holy  writ, 
if  put  to  the  proof,  are  made  good  in 
one's  own  case — these   and   the    like 
evidences  of  the  divine  origin  of  the 
Bible,  press  themselves  quickly  on  the 
most  illiterate  student,  when  he  search- 
es it  in  humility,  hoping  to  find,  as  he 
has  been  told  that  he  shall,  a  message 
from  God  which  will  guide    him  to- 
wards heaven.    He  began  on  the  testi- 
mony of  another ;  but,  after  a  while, 
he  goes  forward  on  his  own  testimony. 
And  though  he  has  not  been  sitting  in 
judgment  on  the  credentials  of  Chris- 
tianity, yet  has  he  possessed  himself  of 
its  contents  ;  and  on  these  he  has  found 
so  much  of  the  impress,  and  from  them 
there  has  issued  so  much  of  the  voice 
of  Deity,  that  he  is  as  certified  in  his 
own  mind,  and  on  grounds  as  satisfac- 
tory, of  the  inspiration  of  Scripture,  as 
any  laborious  and   scientific   inquirer, 
who  has  rifled  the  riches  of  centuries, 
and  brought  them  all  to  do  homage  be- 
fore our  holy  religion.     God  has   no 
more  given  to  the  learned  the  monopo- 
ly of  evidence,  than  to  the  wealthy  the 
monopoly  of  benevolence.     The  poor 
man  can  exercise  benevolence,  for  the 
widow's  two  mites  may  outweigh  the 
noble's  coffers  :  and  the  poor  man  may 
have   an   evidence   that  God   is  in  the 
Bible,  for  it  may  speak  to  his  heart  as 
no  human  book  can. 
And  if  you  contrast  the  man,  whea 


TESTIMONY    CONFIRMED    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


239 


the  minister  of  Christ  first  entered  his 
cottage,  with  what  he  is  after  patient 
obedience  to  tlie  injunctions  of  the 
church — in  the  one  case,  the  mere 
giver  of  assent  to  a  fellow-man's  testi- 
timony ;  in  the  other,  the  delighted 
possessor  of  a  "  witness  in  himself  j" 
in  the  first  instance,  a  believer  not  so 
much  in  the  inspiration  of  Scripture, 
as  in  the  veracity  of  the  individual  who 
announces  it,  but,  in  the  second,  a  be- 
liever in  that  inspiration,  because  con- 
science and  understanding  and  heart 
have  all  felt  and  confessed  the  super- 
human authorship — Oh,  as,  by  thus 
contrasting  and  comparing,  you  deter- 
mine, that,  through  simply  acting  on 
what  was  told  him,  the  man  has  been 
carried  forward  to  a  personal,  experi- 
mental, demonstration  of  its  truth,  you 
must  admit  that  he  may  class  himself 
with  those  who  can  say,  "  as  Ave  have 
heard,  so  have  we  seen,  in  the  city  of 
the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

But  the  principle  has  been  carried 
yet  further  than  this,  and,  we  think, 
with  great  justice.  It  must  be  believed 
of  the  large  mass  of  protestants,  that 
they  have  never  even  read  the  apocry- 
phal books,  much  less  searched  into 
the  reasons  on  which  these  books  are 
pronounced  not  inspired.  Here  there- 
fore it  cannot  be  said,  that  what  has 
been  heard  is  also  seen  in  the  city  of 
God.  We  can  prove  this  in  regard  of 
the  Canonical  Scriptures,  because  we 
can  prove,  that,  when  perused  in  obe- 
dience to  what  is  heard,  they  quickly 
evidence  their  origin.  But  we  seem 
unable  to  prove  this  in  regard  of  the 
Apocryphal  Scriptures ;  for  they  are 
not  used  to  be  subjected  to  any  such 
test. 

But  suppose  they  were  subjected  to 
the  like  test,  and  why  might  we  not 
expect  the  like  result  1  There  is  to  our 
mind  something  inexpressibly  grand 
and  beautiful  in  the  thought,  that  God 
dwells,  as  it  were,  in  the  syllables 
which  he  has  indited  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  humankind,  so  that  he  may  be 
found  there  when  diligently  sought, 
though  he  do  not  thus  inhabit  any 
other  writing.  He  breathed  himself 
into  the  compositions  of  prophets,  j 
and  apostles,  and  evangelists ;  and  ■ 
there,  as  in  the  mystic  recesses  of  an 
everlasting  sanctuary,  he  still  resides,  ' 
ready  to  disclose  himself  to  the  hum- 


ble, and  to  be  evoked  by  the  prayerful. 
But  in  regard  of  every  other  book, 
however  fraught  it  may  be  with  the 
maxims  of  piety,  however  pregnant 
with  momentous  truths,  there  is  no- 
thing of  this  shrining  himself  of  Deity 
in  the  depths  of  its  meaning.  Men  may 
be  instructed  by  its  pages,  and  draw 
from  them  hope  and  consolation.  But 
never  will  they  find  there  the  burning 
Shekinah,  which  proclaims  the  actual 
presence  of  God  ;  never  hear  a  voice, 
as  from  the  solitudes  of  an  oracle,  pro- 
nouncing the  words  of  immortality. 

And  we  should  never  fear  the  bring- 
ing any  canonical  book,  or  any  apocry- 
piial,  to  the  test  thus  supposed.  Let  a 
man  take  a  canonical  book,  and  let  him 
take  an  apocryphal  ;  and  let  him  de- 
termine to  study  both  on  the  suppo- 
sition that  both  are  divine,  because 
doubtful  whether  the  church  be  right 
in  her  decision,  or  desirous  to  gain 
evidence  for  himself.  And  if  he  be  a 
sincere  inquirer  after  truth,  one  really 
anxious  to  ascertain,  in  order  that  he 
may  perform,  the  whole  will  of  God, 
we  know  not  why  he  should  not  expe- 
rience the  accomplishment  of  Christ's 
words,  "  If  any  man  will  do  his  will, 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine  whether 
it  be  of  God,"  and  thus  reach  a  sound 
decision  as  to  which  book  is  inspired, 
and  which  not.  As  he  studies  the  in- 
spired book,  with  humility  and  prayer, 
he  will  find  its  statements  brought  home 
to  his  conscience  and  heart,  with  that 
extraordinary  force  which  is  never  at- 
tached to  a  human  composition.  He 
may  not  be  able  to  construct  a  clear 
argument  for  the  divine  origin  of  the 
book  ;  yet  will  the  correspondence  be- 
tween what  the  book  states,  and  what 
he  experiences,  and  the  constancy  with 
which  the  fulfilment  of  its  promises 
follows  on  submission  to  its  precepts, 
combine  into  an  evidence,  thoroughly 
satisfactory  to  himself,  that  the  pages 
which  he  reads  had  God  for  their  au- 
thor. But  as  he  studies  the  non-in- 
spired book,  he  will  necessarily  miss 
these  tokens  and  impresses  of  Deity. 
There  will  be  none  of  those  mysterious 
soundings  of  the  voice  of  the  ever-liv- 
ing God,  which  he  has  learnt  to  expect, 
and  which  he  has  always  heard,  where- 
soever the  writers  have  indeed  been 
inspired.  His  own  diligence  may  be 
the  same,  his  faith,  his  prayerfulncss. 


210 


TESTIMONY    CONFIRMED    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


But  it  is  impossible  there  should  be 
those  manifestations  of  superhuman 
wisdom,  those  invariable  sequences  of 
fulfilled  promises  on  obeyed  precepts, 
which,  in  the  other  case,  attested,  at 
each  step  of  his  progress,  that  the  do- 
cument in  his  hands  was  a  revelation 
from  above. 

It  may  be  said  that  all  the  argument, 
which  he  can  thus  obtain,  must  be 
vague  and  inconclusive,  a  thing  of 
imagination  rather  than  of  reason,  and 
therefore,  in  the  largest  sense,  liable 
to  error.  But  we  rejoice,  on  the  con- 
trary, in  believing  in  the  thorough  suffi- 
ciency of  the  poor  man's  argument  for 
the  inspiration  of  Scripture.  It  is  an 
argument  to  his  own  conscience,  an 
argument  to  his  own  heart.  It  is  the 
argument  drawn  from  the  experienced 
fact,  that  the  Bible  and  the  soul,  with 
her  multiplied  feelings  and  powers,  fit 
into  each  other,  like  two  parts  of  a 
complicated  machine,  proving,  in  their 
combination,  that  each  was  separately 
the  work  of  the  same  divine  artist. 
And  you  may  think  that  the  poor  man 
may  be  mistaken;  but  he  feels  that  he 
cannot  be  mistaken.  The  testimony  is 
like  a  testimony  to  his  senses;  if  he 
cannot  transfer  it  to  another,  it  is  in- 
contestable to  himself,  and  therefore 
gives  as  much  fixedness  to  the  theology 
of  the  cottage  as  ever  belonged  to  the 
theology  of  the  academy. 

And  if  he  can  thus  prove,  from  his 
own  experience,  the  divine  origin  of 
the  inspired  book,  he  may  of  course 
equally  prove,  from  his  own  experi- 
ence, the  human  origin  of  the  non-in- 
spired. The  absence  of  certain  tokens 
in  the  one  case,  will  be  as  conclusive 
to  him  as  their  presence  in  the  other. 
So  that,  we  may  affirm  of  all  classes  of 
christians,  provided  only  they  be  sin- 
cere and  prayerful  in  their  inquiry  after 
truth,  that,  if  not  content  with  the  de- 
cision of  the  church,  they  may  put  to 
the  proof  what  they  have  heard  in  the 
city  of  our  God.  Let  them  take  the 
apocrypha,  and  let  them  study  it  on  the 
supposition  that  its  books  are  equal- 
ly inspired  with  those  to  which  their 
church  assigns  so  lofty  a  character. 
And  their  spirits  may  be  stirred  within 
them,  as  they  read  of  the  chivalrous 
deeds  of  the  Maccabean  princes,  and 
even  their  tears  may  be  drawn  forth, 
as  the  Book  of  Wisdom  pours  its  ele- 


giac poetry  over  those  who  die  young. 
But  they  will  not  find  that  moral  pro- 
bing, that  direction  of  the  heart,  that 
pronmdity  of  meaning  which  makes  a 
single  text  like  a  mine  from  which  new 
treasures  may  continually  be  dug,  those 
flashes  of  truth  which  suddenly  issue 
from  what  had  long  seemed  dark  say- 
ings. These  and  the  like  evidences 
that  the  living  God  is  in  the  book  will 
be  wanting,  however  its  pages  may  be 
printed  with  heroic  story,  or  glowing 
with  poetic  fire.  Even  though  the  style 
and  sentiment  may  be  similar  to  those 
to  which  they  have  been  used  in  holy 
writ,  they  will  not  experience  the  same 
elevation  of  soul  as  when  they  trust 
themselves  to  the  soarings  of  Isaiah, 
the  same  sweepings  of  the  chords  of 
the  heart  as  when  they  join  in  the 
hymns  of  David,  nor  the  same  echo  of 
the  conscience  as  when  they  listen  to 
the  remonstrances  of  St.  Peter  or  St. 
Paul.  And  what  then  is  to  prevent 
their  being  their  own  witnesses  to  the 
non-inspiration  of  the  apocryphal,  as 
well  as  to  the  inspiration  of  the  canoni- 
cal Scriptures?  What  is  to  prevent 
their  bringing  their  own  experience 
in  confirmation  of  what  had  originally 
been  told  them  by  the  church,  and  thus 
joining  themselves  to  those  Avho  can 
say,  "  as  w-e  have  heard,  so  have  we 
seen,  in  the  city  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ]" 
Now  the  points  on  which  we  have 
thus  touched,  have  been  handled  at 
great  length,  and  with  consummate 
ability,  by  modern  writers.  And  we 
have  dwelt  on  them,  not  with  any  idea 
of  adding  to  the  strength  with  which 
they  have  been  asserted,  or  the  clear- 
ness with  which  they  have  been  illus- 
trated ;  but  simply  in  the  hope  of  fix- 
ing the  attention  of  the  younger  part 
of  this  audience  on  what  is  called  the 
self-evidencing  power  of  Scripture. 
With  all  our  desire  that  they  should  be 
thoroughly  masters  of  the  external  evi- 
dences of  Christianity,  we  are  unspeak- 
ably more  anxious  that  they  should  la- 
bor to  possess  themselves  of  the  inter- 
nal ;  for,  in  searching  after  these,  they 
must  necessarily  study  the  Bible  itself. 
If  they  will  learn  to  view  the  contents 
of  Scripture  as  themselves  its  creden- 
tials, we  shall  en^affe  them  in  the  most 
hopeful  of  all  studies,  the  study  of 
God's  word  as  addressing  itself  to  the 
heart,  and  not  merely  to  the  head.  For 


TESTIMONY    CONFIRMED    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


241 


there  may  be  an  intellectual  theology ;  '  which  it  is  hardly  possible  to  overrate, 
religion  may  be  reduced  into  a  science  J  You  have  only  to  add  to  this  an  ac- 
and  the  writers  on  the  evidences,  and  quaintance  with  the  unchangeableness 
the  commentators  on  the  text  of  tiie  |  of  God,  and  there  seems  all  that  can 
Bible,  may  just  do  for  Christianity  what  !  be  needed  to  the  encouragement  and 
the  laborious  and  the  learned  have  done  I  confidence  of  llie  righteous.     The  un- 


for  various  branches  of  natural  philoso- 
phy ;  make    truths  bright   rather  than 
sharp,  clear  to  the  understanding,  but 
without  hold  on  the   affections.    And 
this  is  not  the  Christianity  which  we 
wish   to  find  amongst  you,  the  Chris- 
tianity of  the   man  who  can  defeat  a 
sceptic,  and   then  lose  his  soul.     We 
would  have  you  well-read — too  well- 
read  you  cannot  be — in  what  has  been 
written  in  defence   of  the  faith ;  but, 
above  all,  we  would  fasten  you  to  the 
prayerful  study  of  the  sacred  volume 
itself;  this  will  lead  you  to  the  hearing 
God's  voice  in  the  Bible,  and,  until  that 
is  heard,  the  best  champion   of  truth 
may  be  far  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
But  there  is  yet  a  more  obvious  ap- 
plication of  the  words  of  our  text,  one 
which,  though  it  may  have  suggested 
itself  to  your  minds,  is  of  too  practical 
a  kind  to  be  omitted  by  the  preacher. 
There  is  a  reference  in  the  passage  to 
the  unchangeableness  of  God,  to  the 
similarity   of  his   dealings   with   men, 
when   there  is  a  similarity  of  circum- 
stance.   It  is  said  of  God  by  Solomon, 
that  he  "  requireth  that  which  is  past." 
He  seeks  again  that  which  is  past,  re- 
calling, as  it   were,   the   proceedings, 
whether  in  judgment  or  mercy,  of  de- 
parted ages,  and  repeating  them  to  the 
present  generation.     And  it  is  on  this 
account  that  there  is  such  value  in  the 
registered  experience  of  the  believers  i 
of  other  days,  so  that  the  biography  of   directed  without    effect,   an    evidence 


changeablcness  of  God  assures  us  that 
he  will  do  in  our  own  days,  as  he  has 
done  in  earlier ;  the  registered  experi- 
ence of  former  times  instructs  us  as  to 
the  accuracy  with  which  he  has  made 
good  the  declarations  of  Scripture  :  and 
by  combining  these  two,  the  assurance 
and  the  instruction,  we  gain  a  witness, 
which  nothing  should  shake,  that,  with 
the  Bible  for  our  guide,  we  shall  have 
peace  for  our  present  portion,  unbound- 
ed glory  for  our  future. 

There  is  here  a  new  witness  for 
the  Bible,  a  witness  accessible  to  the 
meanest,  the  witness  of  happy  lives 
and  triumphant  deaths.  The  very  pea- 
sant masters  and  rejoices  in  this  evi- 
dence. The  histories  of  good  men  find 
their  way  into  his  hamlet ;  and  even 
in  the  village  church-yard  sleep  some 
whose  righteousness  will  be  long  had 
in  remembrance.  And  knowing,  as  he 
does,  that  those,  whose  bright  names 
thus  hallow  the  annals  whether  of  his 
country  or  his  valley,  were  "  accepta- 
ble to  God,  and  approved  of  men," 
through  simply  submitting  themselves 
to  the  guidance  of  Scripture ;  that  they 
were  Bible  precepts  wliich  made  them 
the  example  and  blessing  of  their  fel- 
lows, and  Bible  promises  which  nerved 
them  for  victory  over  sorrow  and  death 
— has  he  not  a  noble  evidence  on  the 
side  of  Scripture,  an  evidence  against 
which   the    taunts   of    scepticism   are 


the  righteous  is  among  the  best  treas 
ures  possessed  by  a  church.  It  is,  in 
one  sense  at  least,  a  vast  advantage  to 
us  that  we  live  late  in  the  world.  We 
have  all  the  benefit  of  the  spiritual  ex- 
perience of  many  centuries,  which  has 
been  bequeathed  to  us  as  a  legacy  of 
more  worth  than  large  wealth  or  far- 
spreading  empire.  W^e  have  not,  there- 
fore, to  tread  a  path  in  which  we  have 
had  but  few  precursors.  Far  as  the 
eye  can  reach,  the  road  we  have  to 
traverse  is  crowded  with  beckoning 
forms,  as  though  the  sepulchres  gave 
up  their  host  of  worthies,  that  we  might 
be  animated  by  the  view  of  the  victo- 
rious throng.   And  this  is  an  advantage 


which  augments  with  every  piece  of 
christian  biography  that  comes  into 
his  possession,  and- with  every  instance 
of  christian  consistency  that  comes 
under  his  observation  ] 

And  what  he  thus  hears  in  the  city 
of  God,  acts,  on  every  account,  as  a 
stimulus  to  his  own  faith  and  stead- 
fastness. The  registered 'experience  of 
those  who  have  gone  before,  encou- 
rages him  to  expect  the  same  mercies 
from  the  same  God.  He  kindles  as 
he  reads  their  story.  Their  memory 
rouses  him.  He  asks  the  mantle  of  the 
ascending  prophet,  that  he  may  divide 
with  it  the  waters  which  had  before 
owned  its  power.  Thus  what  he  has 
31 


242 


TESTIMONY    CONFIRMED    EY    EIPERIENCE. 


heard  in  the  city  of  his  God  confirms 
his  diligence  and   animates  his  hope. 
He  takes  the  experience  of  others,  and 
proceeds  upon  the  supposition  that  it 
may  be  made  his  own.    And  it  is  made 
his  own.  Through  faith  the  same  won- 
ders are  wrought.  Through  prayer  the 
same  mercies  are  obtained.    The  same 
promises  are   accomplished,  the  same 
assistances    communicated,   the    same 
victories  achieved.  And  as  the  man  re- 
members how  his  spirit  glowed  at  the 
mention  of  noble  things  done  on  behalf 
of  the  righteous  ;  how  the  records  of 
good   men's   lives    soothed   him,    and 
cheered   him,  and  excited  him ;   how 
their  prayers  taught  him  to  be  a  sup- 
pliant, and  their  praises  moved  him  to 
be  hopeful;   how  they  seemed  to  have 
lived  for  his  instruction,  and  died  for 
his  comfort — and  then  as  he  feels,  how, 
through  treading  the  same  path,  and 
trusting  in  the  same  Mediator,  he  has 
already  obtained  a  measure,  and  may 
expect  a  yet  larger,  of  the  blessings 
wherewith  they  were  blessed  of  their 
God — oh,  his  language  will  be  that  of 
our  text ;  and  he  will  join,  heart  and 
soul,  with  those  who  are   confessing, 
"  as  we  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen, 
in  the  city  of  our  God." 

There  will  be  a  yet  finer  use  of  these 
words:  they  shall  be  woven  into  a  no- 
bler than  the  noblest  earthly  chant. 
Are  we  deceiving  men,  are  we  mere- 
ly sketching  ideal  pictures,  to  whose 
beauty  and  brilliancy  there  is  nothing 
correspondent  in  future  realities,  when 
we  expatiate  on  the  glories  of  heaven, 
and  task  imagination  to  build  its  pal- 
aces, and  portray  its  inhabitants  1  Yes, 
in  one  sense  we  deceive  them  :  they 
are  but  ideal  pictures  which  we  draw. 
What  human  pencil  can  delineate 
scenes  in  which  God  manifests  his 
presence"?  What  human  coloring  emu- 
late the  effulgence  which  issues  from 
his  throne  1  But  we  deceive  them  only 
through  inability  to  rise  sufficiently 
high  ;  we  exhaust  imagination,  but  not 
the  thousandth  part  is  told.  They  are 
deceived,  only  if  they  think  we  tell 
them  all,  if  they  take  the  pictures 
which  we  draw  as  perfect  representa- 
tions of  the  majesty  of  the  future. 

When  we  speak  to  them  of  the  deep 
and  permanent  repose  of  heaven;  wh  en 
we  enlarge  on  the  manifestations  of 
Deity  j  when  we  declare  that  Christ,  as 


"  the  Minister  of  the  Sanctuary,"  will 
unfold    to    his   church   the    mysteries 
which  have  perplexed  them  ;  when  we 
gather  together  what  is  gorgeous,  and 
precious,  and  beautiful,  in  the  visible 
creation,   and   crowd    it  into  the   im- 
agery wherewith  w^e  delineate  the  final 
home  of  the  saints ;  when  we  take  the 
sun  from  the  firmament,  that  the  Lord 
God  may  shine  there,  and  remove  all 
temples   from    the    city,    that    the  Al- 
mighty may  be  its  Sanctuary,  and  hush 
all  human  minstrelsy,  that  the  immense 
tide   of  song  may  roll   from  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  voices — we  speak 
only  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness, 
though  we    have   not  compassed    the 
greatness,  nor  depicted  the  loveliness, 
of  the  portion  which  awaits  the  disci- 
ples of  Christ.   If  there  be  one  passage 
of  Scripture  which  we  may  venture  to 
put  into  the  lips  of  redeemed  men  in 
glory,  it  is  our  text ;  in  this  instance, 
we  may  be  confident  that  the  change 
from  earth  to  heaven  will  not  have  made 
the  language  of   the    one  unsuited  to 
the  other.  Oh,  as  the  shining  company 
take  the  circuit  of  the  celestial  city; 
as  they  "walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round 
about  her,"  telling  the  towers  thereof, 
marking  well  her  bulwarks,  and  con- 
sidering her  palaces ;  who  can  doubt 
that  they  say  one  to  another,  "  as  we 
have  heard,  so  have  we  seen  in  the  ci- 
ty of  our  Godl"    We  heard  that  here 
"  the    wicked    cease   from  troubling," 
and   now   we   behold    the    deep    rich 
calm.    We  heard  that  here  we  should 
be  with  the  Lord,  and  now  we  see  him 
face  to  face.    We  heard  that  here  we 
should  know,  and  now  the  ample  page 
of  universal   truth  is  open  to  our  in- 
spection.   We  heard   that   here,   with 
the  crown  on  the  head,  and  the  harp  in 
the  hand,  we  should  execute  the  will, 
and  hymn  the  praises,  of  our  God,  and 
now  we  wear  the  diadem,  and  wake  the 
melody.    They  can  take  to  themselves 
the  words  which  the   dying  leader  Jo- 
shua used  of  thfe  Israelites,  "not  one 
thing    hath    failed    of    all    the    good 
things     which     the    Lord    our     God 
spake  concerning  us;  all  are  come  to 
pass,    and    not    one  thing   hath   failed 
thereof." 

Shall  it  be  said  of  any  amongst  our- 
selves, that  they  heard  of  heaven,  but 
made  no  effort  to  behold  it  1  Is  there 
one  who  can  be  indifferent   to  the  an- 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT 


243 


Kouncement  of  its  glories,  one  who  can 
feel  utterly  careless  whether  he  ever 
prove  for  himself,  that  there  has  been 
no  deceit,  no  exaggeration,  but  that  it 
is  indeed  a  surpassingly  fair  land  which 
is  to  be  everlastingly  the  home  of 
those  who  believe  in  the  Redeemer! 
Everlastingly  thq  home — for  we  must 
not  overlook  the  concluding  words  of 
our  text,  "  God  will  establish  it  for 
ever."  The  walls  of  that  city  shall 
never  decay  ;  the  lustres  of  that  city 
shall  never  grow  dim  ;  the  melodies  of 
that  city  shall  never  be  hushed.  And 
is  it  of  a  city  such  as  this  that  any  one 
of  us  can  be  indifferent  whether  or  no 
he  be  finally  an  inhabitant'?  We  will 
not  believe  it.  The  old  and  the  young, 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  all  must  be  ready 
to  bind  themselves  by  a  solemn  vow, 
that  they  will  "  seek  first  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  his  righteousness."  It  is 
not  the  voice  of  a  solitary  and  weak 
fellow-man  which  new  tells  you  of  hea- 


ven. God  is  summoning  you.  Angels 
are  summoning  you.  The  myriads  who 
have  gone  before  are  summoning  you. 
We  are  surrounded  by  a  "  great  cloud 
of  witnesses."  The  battlements  of  the 
sky  seem  thronged  with  those  who 
have  fought  the  good  fight  of  faith. 
They  bend  down  from  the  eminence, 
and  bid  us  ascend,  through  the  one 
Mediator,  to  the  same  lofty  dwelling. 
They  shall  not  call  in  vain.  We  know 
their  voices,  as  they  sweep  by  us  so- 
lemnly and  sweetly.  And  we  think, 
and  we  trust,  that  there  will  not  be 
one  of  you  who  will  leave  the  sanctu- 
ary without  some  such  reflection  and 
prayer  as  this — I  have  heard  of  heaven, 
I  have  been  told  of  its  splendors  and 
of  its  happiness;  grant,  gracious  and 
eternal  Father,  that  I  fail  not  at  last  to 
be  associated  with  those  who  shall  re- 
joicingly exclaim,  "  as  we  have  heard, 
so  have  we  seen,  in  the  city  of  the 
Lord  of  HostSo" 


SERMON  IV. 


THE   GENERAL  RESURRECTION   AND   JUDGMENT 


■"■  Marvel  not  at  this ;  for  the  hour  is  coming  in  which  all  that  are  in  the  graves  shall  hear  his  voice,  and 
shall  come  forth :  they  that  have  done  good  unto  the  resurrection  of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil 
unto  the  resurrection  of  damnation." — St.  John,  5  :  28,  29. 


You  will  at  once  perceive  that  these 
words  of  our  Savior  are  not  to  be  un- 
derstood without  a  reference  to  those 
by  which  they  are  preceded.  They 
show  that  surprise  was  both  felt  and 
expressed  at  something  which  he  had 
just  said  ;  for  they  are  a  direction  to 
his  audience  not  to  marvel,  or  wonder, 
at  what  he  had  affirmed,  seeing  that  he 
had  to  state  what  was  yet  more  aston- 
ishing. If  you  examine  the  context  of 
the  passage,  you  will  find  that  our 
Lord  had  been  speaking  of  the  efl'ects 
which  should  follow  upon  belief  of  his 
word,  and  that  he  had  used  language  in 


regard  of  those  effects,  which  borrow- 
ed its  imagery  from  death  and  a  resur- 
rection.  This  surprised  and  displeased 
his  hearers.  They  could  not  under- 
stand how  the  word  of  Christ  could 
possess  such  a  power  as  he  had  claim- 
ed ;  and  they  perhaps  even  doubted 
whether  the  new  creation  of  which  he 
spake,  the  quickening  of  souls  "  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,"  ever  took 
place. 

It  was  to  meet  these  feelings,  which 
he  perceived  stirring  in  their  minds, 
that  Christ  proceeded  to  address  them 
in  the  words  of  our  text.    "  Marvel  not 


214, 


THE    GENERAL    RESURRECTION    AND    JUDGMENT. 


at  this."  As  though  he  had  said,  you 
are  staggered  at  what  I  have  declared, 
fancying  it  incredible,  or,  at  least,  far 
beyond  my  power.  But  I  have  a  yet 
more  wonderful  thing  of  which  to  tell 
you,  a  thing  that  shall  be  done  by 
myself,  though  requiring  still  greater 
rnifrht.  You  are  amazed  that  I  should 
speak  of  raising  those  who  are  morally 
dead  ;  but  "  marvel  not  at  this  ;  for  the 
hour  is  coming,  in  which  all  that  are 
in  the  graves  shall  hear  my  voice." 

This  appears  to  us  the  true  account 
of  our  Lord's  reasoning.  The  resur- 
rection of  the  body,  the  calling  from 
the  graves  those  who  had  long  slum- 
bered therein,  is  represented  as  a  more 
wonderful  thing  than  what  had  just  ex- 
cited the  amazement  of  the  Jews.  And 
thus  the  passage  sets,  as  we  think,  the 
resurrection  of  the  body  under  a  most 
imposing  point  of  view,  making  it  the 
great  prodigy  in  God's  dealings  with 
our  race.  That  there  is  nothing  else  to 
marvel  at,  in  comparison  of  the  re- 
surrection of  the  dead — this  seems  to 
us  the  assertion  of  Christ,  and  such  as- 
sertion denmnds  a  most  careful  consi- 
deration. Of  course,  independently  on 
this  assertion,  there  is  a  great  deal  in 
the  passage  which  affords  material  for 
profitable  meditation,  seeing  that  the 
whole  business  of  the  last  audit  is 
summarily,  but  strikingly,  described. 
The  remarkable  feature,  however,  of 
the  text  is  undoubtedly  that  of  its  mak- 
ing the  resurrection  of  the  body  the 
first  of  all  marvels  ;  and  it  is,  therefore, 
to  the  illustration  of  this  that  we  shall 
give  our  chief  care,  though  not  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  more  general  truths 
affirmed  by  our  Lord. 

Now  we  are  accustomed  to  think, 
and,  doubtless,  with  justice,  that  there 
is  an  affinity  between  God  and  our 
souls,  but  nothing  of  the  kind  between 
God  and  our  bodies.  We  do  not  in- 
deed presume  to  speak  of  the  human 
soul,  any  more  than  of  the  human  body, 
as  having  congeniality,  or  sameness  of 
nature,  with  the  great  first  cause,  the 
self-existent  Deity.  But  we  may  ven- 
ture to  declare  that  all  the  separation 
which  there  is  between  the  soul  and 
the  body,  is  an  advance  towards  the 
nature  of  God,  so  that  the  soul,  inas- 
much as  it  is  spiritual,  far  more  nearly 
resembles  the  divine  Being  than  the 
body,  inasmuch  as  it  is  material 


And  when  we  reach  this  conclusion, 
we  are  at  a  point  from  which  to  view 
with  great  amazement  the  resurrection 
of  the  body.  So  long  as  a  divine  inter- 
ference is  limited  to  the  soul,  we  may 
be  said  to  be  prepared,  at  least  in  a  de- 
gree, for  whatever  can  be  told  us  of  its 
greatness  and  disinterestedness.  We 
attach  a  dignity  to  the  soul,  which, 
though  it  could  not,  after  there  had 
been  sin,  establish  any  claim  to  the 
succors  of  God,  seems  to  make  it,  if 
not  to  be  expected,  yet  not  to  be  won- 
dered at,  that  it  was  not  abandoned  to 
degradation  and  ruin.  The  soul  is  so 
much  more  nearly  of  the  same  nature 
with  God  than  the  body,  that  a  spiri- 
tual resurrection  appears  a  thousand- 
fold more  likely  than  a  corporeal.  And 
you  are  to  observe  that  there  is  nothing 
in  the  nature  of  the  case,  to  make  it 
clear  to  us,  that,  if  the  soul  were  re- 
deemed, so  also  must  be  the  body.  The 
ordinary  current  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing may  almost  be  said  to  be  against 
the  redemption  of  the  body.  The  body 
is  felt  to  be  an  incumbrance  to  the  soul, 
hindering  it  in  its  noblest  occupations, 
and  contributing  nothing  to  its  most 
elevated  pleasure.  So  far  from  the  soul 
being  incapable  of  happiness,  if  de- 
tached from  the  body,  it  is  actually  its 
union  with  the  body,  which,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, detains  it  from  happiness;  so 
that,  in  its  finest  and  loftiest  musings, 
its  exclamation  often  is,  "^  0  that  I  had 
wings  like  a  dove,  for  then  would  I  flee 
away  and  be  at  rest!"  Even  now  the 
soul  is  often  able  to  rise  above  the  body, 
to  detach  itself,  for  a  while,  from  mat- 
ter, and  to  soar  into  regions  which  it 
feels  to  be  more  its  home  than  this 
earth.  And  when  compelled  to  return 
from  so  splendid  an  excursion,  there  is 
a  sentiment  of  regret  that  it  must  still 
tabernacle  in  flesh  ;  and  it  is  conscious 
of  longing  for  a  day  when  it  may  finally 
abandon  its  perishable  dwelling. 

Thus  there  is  nothing  of  a  felt  ne- 
cessity for  the  re-union  of  the  soul  to 
the  body,  to  guide  us  in  expecting  the 
corporeal  as  well  as  the  spiritual  resur- 
rection. We  might  almost  affirm  that 
the  feeling  is  all  the  other  way.  And 
though,  through  some  fine  workings  of 
reason,  or,  through  attention  to  linger- 
ing traces  of  patriarchal  religion,  men, 
destitute  of  the  light  of  revelation,  have 
reached  a  persuasion  of  the  soul's  im- 


THE    GENERAL    RESTIRRECTION    AND   JUDGMENT. 


245 


mortality,  never  have  they  formed  even 
a  conjecture  of  the  body's  resurrec- 
tion. They  have  imaged  to  themselves 
the  spirit,  which  they  felt  burning  and 
beating  within  them,  emancipated  from 
thraldom,  and  admitted  into  a  new  and 
eternal  estate.  But  they  have  consign- 
ed the  body  to  the  interminable  dishon- 
ors of  the  grave;  and  never,  in  the 
boldest  imaginings,  whether  of  their 
philosophy  or  their  poetry,  have  they 
thrown  life  into  the  ashes  of  the  sepul- 
chre. It  is  almost  the  voice  of  nature, 
that  the  soul  survives  death  :  the  soul 
gives  its  own  testimony,  and  often  so 
impressively,  that  a  man  could  as  easily 
doubt  his  present  as  his  future  exist- 
ence. But  there  is  no  such  voice  put 
forth  in  regard  of  the  body;  no  solemn 
and  mysterious  whisperings  are  heard 
from  its  resting-place,  the  echo  of  a 
truth  which  seems  syllabled  within  us, 
that  bone  shall  come  again  to  bone, 
and  sinews  bind  them,  and  skin  cover 
them,  and  breath  stir  them. 

And  we  may  safely  argue,  that,    if 
the  immortality  of  the  soul  be  an  arti- 
cle of  natural  theology,  but  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body  were  never  even 
thought  of  by  the  most  profound  of  its 
disciples,  there  can   be  no    feeling  in 
man  that  the  matter,  as  well  as  the  spi- 
rit, of  which  he  is  composed,  must  re- 
appear in  another  state  of  being,  in  or- 
der either  to  the  possibility  or  the  fe- 
licity of  his  existence.     So    that — for 
this  is  the  point  to  which  our  remarks 
tend — we  may  declare  of  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  hudy,  that  it  is  altogether 
an  unexpected  fact,  one  which  no  exer- 
cise of  reason   could    have  led   us  to 
conjecture,  and  for  which  there  is  not 
even  that  natural  longing  which  might 
be  interpreted  into  an  argument  of  its 
probability.    It  is  not  then  when  God 
interposes  on  behalf  of  the   soul,  it  is 
when  he   interposes  on  behalf   of  the 
body,  that  the  great  cause  is  given  for 
amazement.  A  spark,  one  might  almost 
call  it,  of  himself,   an  emanation  from 
his    own    immortality,    mighty   in    its 
powers,  mysterious  in  its  wanderings, 
sublime  in  its  anticipations,  we  scarce- 
ly wonder  that   a   spiritual   thing  like 
the  soul  should  engage  the  carefulness 
of  its  Maker,  and   that,   if  it   sully  its 
brightness,    and  mar   its    strength,  he 
should  provide  for  its  final  recovery. 
But  the  body — matter,  which  is  man's 


link  of  association  with  the  lowest  of 
the  brutes,  and  which  natural  and  re- 
vealed  theology   are    alike   earnest  in 
removing  to  the  farthest  possible  dis- 
tance from  the  divine  nature — the  bo- 
dy, whose  members    are   "  the  instru- 
ments    of    unrighteousness,"    whose 
wants    make     our    feebleness,    whose 
lusts  are  our  tempters,  whose  infirmi- 
ties our  torment — that  this  ignoble  and 
decaying  thing  should  be  cared  for  by 
God,  who   is    inefi'ably  more    spiritual 
than  spirit,  so  that  he  designs  its  re-ap- 
pearance in    his   own   immediate   pre- 
sence, what  is  comparable   in  its  won- 
derfulness  to  this  1    Prodigy  of  prodi- 
gies, that  this   corruptible   should  put 
on  incorruption,  this  mortal  immorta- 
lity.   And  scribes  and  pharisees  might 
have   listened    with    amazement,    and 
even    with    incredulity,    as    the    Lord 
our    Redeemer    affirmed    the    effects 
which  would   be  wrought   on   the  soul 
through  the  doctrines  and  deeds  of  his 
mission.  But  he  had  stranger  things  to 
tell ;  for  he  had  to  speak  of  the  body  as 
well  as  of  the  soul,  rising  from   its  ru- 
ins, and  gloriously  reconstructed.  Yes, 
observing  how  his  hearers  were  surpri- 
sed, because  he  had  spoken  of  the  spi- 
ritually dead  as  quickened  by  his  word, 
he  might  well  say  unto  them,  "  marvel 
not  at  this,"    and  give    as   his  reason, 
"  for  the  hour  is  coming,   in  which  all 
that  are  in  the  graves  shall   hear  my 
voice." 

Now,  throughout  this  examination 
of  the  truth,  that  the  resurrection  of 
the  body  furnishes,  in  an  extraordinary 
degree,  cause  of  wonder  and  surprise, 
we  have  made  no  reference  to  the  dis- 
play of  divine  power  which  this  resur- 
rection must  present.  We  have  simply 
enlarged  on  what  may  be  called  the 
unexpectedness  of  the  event,  proving 
this  unexpectedness  from  the  inferior- 
itjr  of  matter,  its  utter  want  of  affinity 
to  Deity,  and  the  feelings  of  even  man 
himself  in  regard  to  its  detracting  from 
his  dignity  and  happiness. 

But  we  do  not  know,  that,  in  the 
whole  range  of  things  effected  by  God, 
there  is  aught  so  surprising,  regard 
being  had  only  to  the  power  displayed, 
as  the  resurrection  of  the  body.  If  you 
will  ponder,  for  a  few  moments,  the 
facts  of  a  resurrection,  you  will  proba- 
bly allow  that  the  power  which  must 
be  exerted  in  order  to  the  final  recon- 


246 


THE   GENERAL   RESURRECTION    AND   JUDGMENT. 


struction  of  every  man's  body,  is  more 
signal  than  that  displayed  in  any  spi- 
ritual renovation,  or  in  any  of  those 
operations  which  we  are  able  to  trace 
in  the  visible  universe.  You  are  just  to 
think  that  this  framework  of  flesh,  in 
which  my  soul  is  now  enclosed,  will 
be  reduced  at  death  to  the  dust  from 
which  it  was  taken.  I  cannot  tell  where 
or  what  will  be  my  sepulchre — whether 
I  shall  sleep  in  one  of  the  quiet  church- 
yards of  my  own  land,  or  be  exposed 
on  some  foreign  shore,  or  fall  a  prey  to 
the  beasts  of  the  desert,  or  seek  a  tomb 
in  the  depths  of  the  unfathomable  wa- 
ters. But  an  irreversible  sentence  has 
gone  forth — "  dust  thou  art,  and  unto 
dust  thou  shalt  return" — and  assured- 
ly, ere  many  years,  and  perhaps  even 
ere  many  days  have  elapsed,  must  my 
"  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  be 
dissolved,"  rafter  from  rafter,  beam 
from  beam,  and  the  particles,  of  which 
it  has  been  curiously  compounded,  be 
separated  from  each  other,  and  perhaps 
scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven. 
And  who  will  pretend  to  trace  the 
wanderings  of  these  particles,  into 
what  other  substances  they  may  en- 
ter, of  what  other  bodies  they  may 
form  part  so  as  to  appear  and  disap- 
pear many  times  in  living  shape  before 
the  dawn  of  the  great  Easter  of  the 
universe  1  There  is  manifestly  the  most 
thorough  possibility,  that  the  elements 
of  which  my  body  is  composed,  may 
have  belonged  to  the  bone  and  flesh  of 
successive  generations;  and  that,  when 
I  shall  have  passed  away  and  be  forgot- 
ten, they  will  be  again  wrought  into 
the  structure  of  animated  beings. 

And  when  you  think  that  my  body, 
at  the  resurrection,  must  have  at  least 
so  much  of  its  original  matter,  as  shall 
be  necessary  for  the  preservation  of 
identity,  for  the  making  me  know  and 
feel  myself  the  very  same  being  who 
sinned,  and  sufl"ered,  and  was  disciplin- 
ed on  earth,  you  must  allow  that  no- 
thing short  of  infinite  knowledge  and 
power  could  prevail  to  the  watching, 
and  disentangling,  and  keeping  duly 
separate,  whatever  is  to  be  again  build- 
ed  into  a  habitation  for  my  spirit,  so 
that  it  may  be  brought  together  from 
the  four  ends  of  the  earth,  detached 
from  other  creatures,  or  extracted  from 
other  substances.  This  Avould  be  in- 
deed a  wonderful  thing,  if  it  were  true 


of  none  but  myself,  if  it  were  only  in 
my  solitary  case  that  a  certain  portion 
of  matter  had  thus  to  be  watched,  kept 
distinct  though  mingled,  and  appro- 
priated to  myself  whilst  belonging  to 
others.  But  try  to  suppose  the  same 
holding  good  of  every  human  being,  of 
Adam,  and  each  member  of  his  count- 
less posterity,  and  see  whether  the 
resurrection  will  not  utterly  confound 
and  overburden  the  mind.  To  every  in- 
dividual in  the  interminable  throng  shall 
his  own  body  be  given,  a  body  so  lite- 
rally his  own,  that  it  shall  be  made  up, 
to  at  least  a  certain  extent,  of  the  mat- 
ter which  composed  it  whilst  he  dwelt 
on.  this  earth.  And  yet  this  matter  may 
have  passed  through  innumerable  chan- 
ges. It  may  have  circulated  through 
the  living  tribes  of  many  generations ; 
or  it  may  have  been  waving  in  the  trees 
of  the  forest ;  or  it  may  have  floated  on 
the  wide  waters  of  the  deep.  But  there 
has  been  an  eye  upon  it  in  all  its  appro- 
priations, and  in  all  its  transformations  ; 
so  that,  just  as  though  it  had  been  in- 
delibly stamped,  from  the  first,  with  the 
name  of  the  human  being  to  whom  it 
should  finally  belong,  it  has  been  uner- 
ringly reserved  for  the  great  day  of  re- 
surrection. Thus  myriads  upon  myri- 
ads of  atoms — for  you  may  count  up 
till  imagination  is  wearied,  and  then 
reckon  that  you  have  but  one  imit  of 
the  still  inapproachable  sum — myriads 
upon  myriads  of  atoms,  the  dust  of 
kingdoms,  the  ashes  of  all  that  have 
lived,  are  perpetually  jostled,  and  min- 
gled, and  separated,  and  animated,  and 
swept  away,  and  reproduced,  and,  ne- 
vertheless, not  a  solitary  particle  but 
holds  itself  ready,  at  the  sound  of  the 
last  trump,  to  combine  itself  with  a 
multitude  of  others,  in  a  human  body 
in  which  they  once  met  perhaps  a  thou- 
sand years  before. 

We  frankly  own  that  this  appears  to 
us  among  the  most  inscrutable  of  won- 
ders. That  God  should  have  produced 
countless  worlds,  and  that  he  should 
marshal  all  their  motions,  as  they  walk 
the  immensity  of  his  empire — it  is  an 
amazing  contemplation ;  and  the  mind 
cannot  compass  the  greatness  of  a  pow- 
er which  had  only  to  speak  and  it  was 
done,  and  which  hath  ever  since  up- 
held its  own  magnificent  creation,  in 
all  the  grandeur  of  its  structures,  and 
in  all  the  harmony  of  its  relations.  But, 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


247 


with  all  its  majesty,  there  is  a  simpli- 
city in  the  mechanism  of  systems  and 
constellations;  every  star  has  its  place 
and  its  orbit ;  and  we  see  no  traces  of 
a  complication,  or  confusion,  which 
might  render  necessary  unwearied  and 
infinite  watchfulness,  in  order  to  the 
preventing  universal  disorder.  And  it 
is  again  a  surprising  truth,  that  the 
Spirit  of  God  should  act  on  the  human 
soul;  that,  secretly  and  silently,  it 
should  renovate  its  decayed  powers, 
refine  its  affections,  and  awaken  the 
dormant  immortality.  Yet  even  here 
we  may  speak  of  simplicity — each  soul, 
like  each  star,  has  its  own  sphere  of 
motion ;  each  is  distinct  from  each ; 
and  none  has  ever  to  be  dissolved,  and 
mingled,  like  the  body,  with  the  ele- 
ments of  a  million  others. 

It  still  then  remains  a  kind  of  marvel 
amongst  marvels,  that  there  hath  not 
died  the  man  who  shall  not  live  again, 
live  again  in  that  identical  body  which 
his  spirit  abandoned  when  summoned 
back  to  God.  And  upon  this  account, 
upon  account  of  the  apparently  vaster 
power  displayed  in  a  resurrection,  may 
we  suppose  that  Christ  bade  his  hear- 
ers withhold  their  amazement  at  what 
he  had  advanced.  Yes,  and  we  feel  that 
he  might  have  spoken  of  every  other 
portion  of  God's  dealings  with  our  race, 
and,  without  deprecating  the  wonder- 
fulness  of  other  things,  have  declared, 
at  each  step,  that  he  had  stranger  truths 
in  store.  He  might  have  spoken  of  cre- 
ation; and,  whilst  an  audience  were 
confounded  at  the  story  of  animate  and 
inanimate  things  starting  suddenly  into 
being,  he  might  have  added,  "  marvel 
not  at  this."  He  might  have  spoken,  as 
he  did  speak,  of  a  spiritual  regenera- 
tion pervading  large  masses  of  the  fa- 
mily of  man  ;  and,  whilst  those  who 
heard  him  were  looking  surprised  and 
incredulous,  he  might  have  added,  as 
he  did  add,  '' marvel  not  at  this."  For 
he  had  to  speak  of  a  rifling  of  the  se- 
pulchres, of  the  re-animating  the  dust 
of  buried  generations.  And  this  was  to 
speak  of  earth,  and  sea,  and  air,  resolv- 
ing themselves  suddenly  into  the  flesh 
and  sinew  of  human-kind.  This  was  to 
speak  of  countless  particles,  some  from 
the  east  and  others  from  the  west,  these 
from  the  north,  and  those  from  the 
south,  moved  by  mysterious  impulse, 
and  combining  into  the  limbs  of  patri- 


archs, and  prophets,  and  priests,  and 
kings,  and  people.  This  was  to  speak 
of  the  re-appearance  of  every  human 
being  that  ever  moved  on  the  face  of 
the  earth — the  old  man  who  sunk  be- 
neath the  burden  of  years,  and  the 
young  man  who  perished  in  his  prime, 
and  the  infant  who  just  opened  his  eyes 
on  a  sinful  and  sad  world,  and  then 
closed  them  as  though  terrified — all  re- 
produced, though  all  had  been  disper- 
sed like  chaff  before  the  hurricane, 
all  receiving  their  original  elements, 
though  those  elements  had  been  the 
play-things  of  the  winds,  and  the  fuel 
for  the  flames,  and  the  foam  upon  the 
waters.  And  if  this  were  indeed  the 
speaking  of  a  general  resurrection,  oh, 
then  our  Lord  might  have  already  been 
affirming  what  was  wonderful ;  but, 
whatsoever  that  had  been,  he  might 
have  gone  on  to  repress  the  astonish- 
ment of  his  hearers,  saying  unto  them, 
"  marvel  not  at  this,"  and  giving  as  his 
reason,  "  for  the  hour  is  coming,,  in 
which  all  that  are  in  the  graves  shall 
hear  my  voice." 

Now  we  have  probably  advanced 
enough  in  explanation  of  what  perhaps 
at  first  seems  hardly  to  have  been  ex- 
pected, namely,  that  our  Lord  should 
represent  other  wonders,  even  that  of 
the  spiritually  passing  from  death  unto 
life,  as  not  to  be  wondered  at,  in  com- 
parison with  the  resurrection  of  the 
body.  We  proceed,  therefore,  to  the 
examining  what  Christ  asserts  in  re- 
gard of  those  sublime  transactions 
which  will  be  associated  with  this  sur- 
passinglj''  strange  event. 

"  The  hour  is  coming."  More  than 
eighteen  hundred  years  have  elapsed, 
since  he  who  gpake  as  "  never  man 
spake,"  and  w^ho  could  utter  nothing 
but  truth,  made  this  assertion,  an  asser- 
tion which  implied  that  the  hour  was 
at  hand.  But  the  dead  are  yet  in  their 
graves  ;  no  vivifying  voice  has  been 
heard  in  the  sepulchres.  We  know 
however  that  ''  a  thousand  years  are 
with  the  Lord  as  one  day,  and  one  day 
as  a  thousand  years."  We  count  it  not 
therefore  strange  that  the  predicted 
hour,  the  hour  so  full  of  mystery  and 
might,  has  not  yet  arrived.  But  it  must 
come;  it  may  not  perhaps  be  distant; 
and  there  may  be  some  of  us,  for  aught 
we  can  tell,  who  shall  be  alive  on  the 
earth  when  the  voice  issues  forth,  the 


248 


THK  "GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


voice  which  shall  be  echoed  from  the 
sea,  and  the  city,  and  the  mountain, 
and  the  desert,  all  creation  hearkening, 
and  all  that  hath  ever  lived  simultane- 
ously responding.  But  whether  we  be 
of  the  quick  or  of  the  dead,  on  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection,  we  must 
hear  the  voice,  and  join  ourselves  to 
the  swarming  throng  which  presses 
forward  to  judgment.  And  whose  is 
the  voice  that  is  thus  irresistible,  which 
is  heard  even  in  the  graves  of  the  earth, 
and  in  the  caverns  of  the  deep,  and 
which  is  heard  only  to  be  obeyed  ] 
Know  ye  not  that  voice  %  Ye  have 
heard  it  before.  It  is  the  voice  which 
said,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are 
weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest."  It  is  the  voice  which  pray- 
ed on  behalf  of  murderers,  ''  Father, 
forgive  them,  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  It  is  the  voice  which  said,  "  It  is 
finished,"  pronouncing  the  completion 
of  the  work  of  human  redemption.  Yes, 
ye  have  heard  that  voice  before.  Ye 
have  heard  it  in  the  ministrations  of 
the  Gospel.  It  hath  called  to  you,  it 
hath  pleaded  with  you.  And  those  who 
have  listened  to  it  in  life,  and  who  have 
obeyed  it  when  it  summoned  them  to 
take  up  the  cross,  to  them  it  will  be  a 
mighty  comfort,  that,  in  the  voice  which 
is  shaking  the  universe,  and  wakening 
the  dead,  they  recognize  the  tones  of 
Him  who  could  be  "  touched  with  a 
feeling  of  their  infirmities." 

For  it  is,  we  think,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  the  arrangements  which 
characterize  the  Gospel,  that  the  offi- 
ces of  Redeemer  and  Judge  meet  in  the 
same  person,  and  that  person  divine. 
We  call  it  a  beautiful  arrangement,  be- 
cause securing  for  us  tenderness  as 
well  as  equity,  the  sympathies  of  a 
friend,  as  well  as  the  disinterestedness 
of  a  most  righteous  arbiter.  Had  the 
judge  been  only  man,  the  imperfection 
of  his  nature  would  have  made  us  ex- 
pect much  of  error  in  his  verdicts. 
Had  he  been  only  God,  the  distance 
between  him  and  us  would  have  made 
us  fear  it  impossible,  that,  in  determin- 
ing our  lot,  he  would  take  into  account 
our  feebleness  and  trials.  But  in  the 
person  of  Christ  there  is  that  marvel- 
lous combination  which  we  seek  in  the 
Judge  of  the  whole  human  race.  He  is 
God,  and,  therefore,  must  he  know  ev- 
ery particular  of  character.    But  he  is 


also  man,  and,  therefore,  can  he  put 
himself  into  the  position  of  those  who 
are  brought  to  his  bar.  And  because 
the  Judge  is  thus  the  Mediator,  the 
judgment-seat  can  be  approached  with 
confidence  and  gladness.  The  believer 
in  Christ,  who  hearkened  to  the  sug- 
gestions of  God's  Spirit,  and  brake 
away  from  the  trammels  of  sin,  shall 
know  the  Son  of  man,  as  he  comes 
down  in  the  magnificent  sternness  of 
celestial  authority.  And  we  say  not 
that  it  shall  be  altogether  without  dread 
or  apprehension,  that  the  righteous, 
starting  from  the  sleep  of  death,  shall 
hear  the  deepening  roll  of  the  archan- 
gel's summons,  and  behold  the  terrific 
pomp  of  heavenly  judicature.  But  we 
are  certain  that  they  will  be  assured 
and  comforted,  as  they  gaze  upon  their 
Judge,  and  recognize  their  surety. 
Words  such  as  these  will  occur  to 
them,  "  God  hath  appointed  a  day  in 
the  which  he  will  judge  the  world  in 
righteousness  by  that  man  whom  he 
hath  ordained."  "By  that  man."  The 
man  who  "  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and 
carried  our  sorrows."  The  man  who 
uttered  the  pathetic  words,  ^'  0  Jerusa- 
lem, Jerusalem,  how  often  would  I 
have  gathered  thy  children  together." 
The  man  who  was  "delivered  for  our 
offences,  and  raised  again  for  our  justi- 
fication." The  man  who  sat  in  weari- 
ness by  the  well  of  Samaria ;  the  man 
who  wept  in  anguish  at  the  grave  of 
Lazarus ;  the  man  who  compassion- 
ated the  weakness  of  his  slumbering 
disciples ;  the  man  whose  "  sweat  was 
as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood,"  and 
who  submitted  to  be  scourged,  and  buf- 
feted, and  crucified,  "for  us  men,  and 
for  our  salvation."  Yes,  this  is  the  very 
being  who  is  to  gather  the  nations  be- 
fore him,  and  determine  the  everlast- 
ing condition  of  each  individual.  And 
though  we  dare  not  attempt  to  define 
the  motions  of  those  most  assured  of 
deliverance,  when  standing,  in  their  re- 
surrection-bodies, on  the  earth,  as  it 
heaves  with  strange  convulsions,  and 
looking  on  a  firmament  lined  with  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  angels, 
and  beholding  a  throne  of  fire  and  cloud, 
such  as  was  never  piled  for  mortal  sov- 
ereignty, and  hearing  sounds  of  which 
even  imagination  cannot  catch  the  echo 
— yet  is  it  enough  to  assure  us  that 
they  will  be  full  of  hope  and  of  glad- 


THE   GENEKAL   RESTTRRECTION    AND    JUDGMENT. 


249 


ness,  to  tell  us  that  he  who  will  speak 
to  them  is  he  who  once  died  for 
them — Oh,  there  will  be  peace  to  the 
righteous,  when  "  the  heavens  shall  be 
rolled  together  as  a  scroll,"  if  it  be 
Christ  who  saith,  "  the  hour  is  coming, 
in  which  all  that  are  in  the  graves  shall 
hear  my  voice." 

But  with  what  feelings  will  those 
hear  the  voice,  of  whom  the  Savior 
may  affirm,  "  I  have  called,  and  ye  re- 
fused ;  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my 
counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  re- 
proof]" They  too  shall  know  the 
voice  ;  and  it  shall  be  to  them  as  the 
voice  of  despised  mercy,  the  voice  of 
slighted  love.  They  shall  be  more 
startled,  and  more  pierced,  and  more 
lacerated,  by  that  voice,  than  if  it  had 
never  before  been  heard,  or  if  its  tones 
were  not  remembered.  The  sound  of 
that  voice  will  at  once  waken  the  me- 
mory of  warnings  that  have  been  neg- 
lected, invitations  refused,  privileges 
unimproved.  It  will  be  painfully  elo- 
quent of  all  that  was  vainly  done  to 
win  them  to  repentance,  and  therefore 
terribly  reproachful,  ominous  of  a  doom 
which  it  is  now  too  late  to  avert.  They 
would  have  more  hope,  they  would  be 
less  beaten  down  by  a  consciousness 
that  they  were  about  to  enter  on  ever- 
lasting misery,  if  a  strange  voice  had 
summoned  them  from  the  tomb,  a 
voice  that  had  never  spoken  tenderly 
and  plaintively,  never  uttered  the  ear- 
nest beseechings,  the  touching  entrea- 
ties of  a  friend,  a  brother,  a  Redeemer. 
Any  voice  rather  than  this  voice.  None 
could  be  so  dirge-like,  so  full  of  con- 
demnation, so  burdened  with  maledic- 
tion, as  that  which  had  often  said, 
"  Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  for  why  will  ye 
die  ?" 

But  this  is  the  voice  ;  and  when  this 
voice  is  heard,  "  all  that  are  in  the 
graves  shall  come  forth."  And  under 
how  many  divisions  shall  the  swarm- 
ing myriads  be  arranged  *?  They  have 
had  very  different  opportunities  and 
means,  and  you  might  have  expected 
them  to  be  separated  into  great  variety 
of  classes.  But  we  read  of  only  one 
division,  of  only  two  classes.  "  They 
that  have  done  good  unto  the  resurrec- 
tion of  life,  and  they  that  have  done 
evil  unto  the  resurrection  of  damna- 
tion." There  is  not,  you  observe,  any 
thing   intermediate.    All  rise,   so  that 


there  is  no  annihilation  ;  all  rise,  either 
to  be  unspeakably  happy,  or  unspeaka- 
bly miserable,  for  there  are  but  two  re- 
surrections. We  may  indeed  be  sure 
that  both  heaven  and  hell  will  present 
recompenses  suited  to  all  varieties  of 
character,  and  that  in  the  allotments  of 
both  there  will  be  a  graduated  scale. 
But  let  it  never,  on  this  account,  be 
supposed  that  there  may  be  a  happi- 
ness so  imperfect,  and  a  misery  so  in- 
considerable, that  there  shall  be  but 
little  final  difference  between  some 
who  are  acquitted,  and  others  who  are 
condemned.  "Between  us  and  you 
there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed."  The  last 
admitted,  and  the  first  excluded,  ne- 
ver let  us  think  that  these  two  classes 
approach  so  nearly  to  equality,  that 
it  may  be  comparatively  unimportant 
with  which  we  ranked.  Heaven  cannot 
dwindle  away  into  hell,  and  hell  can- 
not be  softened  away  into  heaven. 
Happiness  or  misery — one  or  other  of 
these  must  be  the  portion  of  every 
man  ;  and  whilst  we  freely  confess  that 
happiness  and  misery  may  admit  of  al- 
most countless  degrees,  and  that  thus 
there  may  be  room  for  vast  variety  of 
retributions,  we  contend  that  between 
the  two  there  must  be  an  untravelled 
separation  :  the  happiness,  or  the  mi- 
sery of  one  may  be  unspeakably  less 
than  that  of  another;  but  the  least 
happy,  and  the  least  miserable,  Avho 
shall  tell  us  how  much  space  there  is 
between  these  for  the  agony  and  re- 
morse of  a  storm-tossed  spirit] 

Observe  then  that  it  must  be  either 
of  a  "resurrection  of  life,"  or  of  a  "re- 
surrection of  damnation,"  that  each 
amongst  us  will  be  finally  partaker. 
And  it  is  to  depend  on  our  Avovks, 
which  of  the  two  shall  be  our  resur- 
rection. "  They  that  have  done  good," 
and  "  they  that  have  done  evil,"  are 
our  Lord's  descriptions  of  the  respec- 
tive classes.  Works  are  given  as  the 
alone  criterion  by  which  we  shall  be 
judged.  And  this  interferes  not  with 
the  great  doctrine  of  justification  by 
faith,  because  good  works  spring  from 
faith,  and  are  both  its  fruits  and  its 
evidence;  whilst,  by  making  words 
the  test,  a  ground  is  afforded  for  the 
judgment  of  those  to  whom  Christ  has 
not  been  preached,  as  well  as  of  those 
who  have  been  invited  to  the  believing 
on  his  name.  The  whole  human  family 
32 


250 


THE  GENERAL  RESURRECTION  AND  JUDGMENT. 


may  be  brought  to  the  same  bar,  see- 
ing that  the  only  thing  to  be  decided, 
is,  whether  they  have  done  good,  or 
whether  they  have  done  evil. 

And  what  say  yovi  to  all  this  1  If  we 
could  escape  the  judgment,  or  if  we 
could  bribe  the  judge;  if  we  had  the 
bone  of  iron,  and  the  sinew  of  brass, 
and  the  flesh  of  marble,  so  that  we 
might  defy  the  fire  and  the  worm,  why 
then  we  might  eat  and  drink,  and 
amass  gold,  and  gratify  lust.  But  the 
judgment  is  not  to  be  escaped — the 
very  dead  are  to  hear  the  voice,  and 
who  then  can  hide  himself?  And  tlie 
Judge  is  not  to  be  bribed  ;  it  is  the 
eternal  God  himself,  whose  are  the 
worlds,  and  all  which  they  contain. 
And  we  are  sensitive  beings,  beings 
with  vast  capacities  for  wretchedness, 
presenting  unnumbered  inlets  to  a 
ministry  of  vengeance — shall  we  then, 
in  spite  of  all  this,  persist  in  neglecting 
the  great  salvation  1 

We  address  ourselves  now  especial- 
ly to  our  younger  brethren,  desiring  to 
conclude  the  discourses  of  the  month 
with  a  word  of  exhortation  to  those  on 
whom  "  the  dew  of  their  youth  "  is 
still  freshly  resting.  We  have  set  be- 
fore you  the  resurrection  of  life,  and 
the  resurrection  of  damnation  ;  and  we 
now  tell  you  that  you  have  your  fate 
in  your  own  keeping,  and  that  there  is 
no  election  but  his  own  through  which 
any  one  of  you  can  perish.  We  speak 
to  you  as  free,  accountable  beings, 
each  of  whom  is  so  circumstanced  and 
assisted  that  he  may,  if  he  will,  gain 
heaven  through  the  merits  of  Christ. 
The  question  therefore  is,  whether  you 
will  act  as  candidates  for  eternity,  or 
live  as  those  who  know  nothing  of  the 
great  end  of  their  creation.  Born  for 
immortality,  destined  to  equality  with 
angels,  and  entreated  to  "  work  out 
your  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling," 
will  ye  degrade  yourselves  to  the  level 
of  the  brute,  and  lose  those  souls  for 
which  Christ  died"?  It  is  a  question 
which  each  must  answer  for  himself. 
Each  is  free  to  obey,  or  flee,  youthful 
lusts,  to  study,  or  neglect,  God's  word, 
to  live  without  prayer,  or  to  be  earnest 
in  supplication.  There  is  no  compul- 
sion on  any  one  of  you  to  be  vicious; 
and,  be  well  assured,  there  will  be  no 
compulsion  on  any  one  of  you  to  be 
virtuous.  Passions  may  be  strong;  but 


not  too  strong  to  be  resisted  through 
that  grace  which  is  given  to  all  who 
seek  it,  but  forced  upon  none  who  de- 
spise it.  Temptations  may  be  power- 
ful ;  they  are  never  irresistible ;  he 
who  struggles  shall  be  made  victo- 
rious; but  God  delivers  none  who  are 
not  striving  to  deliver  themselves. 

Be  watchful,  therefore — watchful 
against  sins  of  the  flesh,  watchful 
against  sins  of  the  mind.  Against  sins 
of  the  flesh — sensuality  so  debases  and 
enervates,  that  the  soul,  as  though  se- 
pulchred in  the  body,  can  do  nothing 
towards  vindicating  her  orijjin.  "Unto 
the  pure  all  things  are  pure;  but  unto 
them  that  are  defiled  and  unbelieving 
is  nothing  pure,  but  even  their  mind 
and  conscience  is  defiled."  Against 
sins  of  the  mind — take  heed  that  ye 
do  not  so  admire  and  extol  reason,  as 
to  think  lightly  of  revelation.  Ye  live 
in  days  when  mind  is  on  the  stretch, 
and  in  scenes  where  there  is  every 
thing  to  call  it  out.  And  we  do  not 
wish  to  make  you  less  acute,  less  in- 
quiring, less  intelligent,  than  the  warm- 
est admirers  of  reason  can  desire  you 
to  become.  We  only"  wish  you  to  re- 
member that  arrogance  is  not  great- 
ness, and  that  conceit  is  the  index,  not 
of  strength,  but  of  weakness.  To  ex- 
alt reason  beyond  its  due  place  is  to 
abase  it ;  to  set  the  human  in  rivalry 
with  the  divine  is  to  make  it  contemp- 
tible. Let  reason  count  the  stars,  weigh 
the  mountains,  fathom  the  depths — the 
employment  becomes  her,  and  the  suc- 
cess is  glorious.  But  when  the  ques- 
tion is,  "  how  shall  a  man  be  just  with 
God,"  reason  must  be  silent,  revela- 
tion must  speak;  and  he  who  AviJl  not 
hear  it  assimilates  himself  to  the  first 
Deist,  Cain;  he  may  not  kill  a  brother, 
he  certainly  destroys  himself. 

And  that  you  may  be  aided  in  over- 
coming sin,  let  your  thoughts  dwell 
often  on  that  "  strict  and  solemn  ac- 
count which  you  must  one  day  give  at 
the  judgment-seat  of  Christ."  I  have 
endeavored  to  speak  to  you  of  the  ge- 
neral resurrection  and  the  last  great 
assize.  To  the  large  mass  of  you  it  is 
not  probable  that  I  shall  ever  speak 
again.  But  we  shall  meet,  when  the 
sheeted  dead  are  stirring,  and  the  ele- 
ments are  dissolving.  And  "  knowing 
the  terror  of  the  Lord,  we  persuade 
men."    Would  that  we  could  persuade 


THE    ANCHOR    OF    THE    SOTTL. 


251 


you.  Is  there  no  voice  from  the  ''  great 
white  throne  ;"  nothing  startling  in  the 
opened  books;  no  eloquence  in  the 
trumpet  of  the  archangel ;  nothing  ter- 
rible in  the  doom,  "  depart,  ye  cursed," 
nothing  beautiful  in  the  words,  "  come, 
ye  blessed  1"  I  cannot  plead  with  you, 
if  insensible  to  the  sublime  and  thrill- 
inor  oratory  of  the  judgment  scene.  If 
you  can  go  away,  and  be  as  dissipated 
as  ever,  and  as  indifferent  as  ever,  now 


that  ye  have  beheld  the  Son  of  man 
coming  in  the  clouds,  and  heard,  as  it 
were,  your  own  names  in  the  shrill 
summons  to  his  bar — what  can  I  say 
to  you  ?  Indeed  I  feel  that  there  are  no 
more  formidable  weapons  in  the  moral 
armory  ;  and  I  can  but  pray — for  there 
is  yet  room  for  prayer — that  God  would 
put  sensibility  into  the  stone,  and  give 
you  feeling  enough  to  feel  for  your- 
selves. 


SERMON. 


THE    ANCHOR    OF    THE    SOUL. 


Which  hope  we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul,  both  sure  and  steadfast,  and  which  entereth  into  that 
within  the  veil." — Hebrews,  6  :  19. 


It  is  a  very  peculiar  and  interesting 
cause  which  I  have  this  day  undertaken 
to  plead — that  of  the  Floating  Church, 
which  offers  the  means  of  grace  to  our 
river  population,  to  the  most  useful, 
and  well  nigh  the  most  neglected  of  our 
countrymen — those  who  are  carrying 
on  our  commerce,  who  have  fought  our 
battles,  and  who  are  ready,  if  peace  be 
disturbed,  to  fight  them  again  with 
equal  valor,  and,  through  God's  help, 
with  equal  success.  If  there  be  a  call 
to  Avhich  the  hearts  of  Englishmen 
more  naturally  respond  than  to  any 
other,  it  must  be  that  which  demands 
succor  for  sailors.  As  a  nation  we  seem 
to  have  less  fellowship  with  the  land 
than  the  sea ;  and  our  strongest  sym- 
pathies are  with  those  who  plough  its 
surface,  and  dare  its  perils.  I  feel, 
therefore,  that  I  never  had  a  charity- 
sermon  to  preach,  whose  subject  gave 
me  so  powerful  a  hold  on  the  feelings 
of  a  congregation  ;  and  I  think  that 
this  hold  will  not  be  lessened,  if  I  en- 
gage your  attention  with  a  passage  of 
Scripture,  in  which  the  imagery,  if  I 


may  use  the  expression,  is  peculiarly 
maritime,  whilst  the  truths  which  are 
inculcated  are  of  the  most  interesting' 
kind.  The  apostle  Paul  had  just  been 
speaking  of  "  laying  hold  on  the  hope 
set  before  us,"  by  which  he  seems  to 
denote  the  appropriation  of  those  va- 
rious blessings  which  have  all  been 
procured  for  us  by  Christ.  The  hope 
is  that  of  eternal  life  ;  and  to  lay  hold 
on  this  hope,  must  be  so  to  believe  upon 
Christ,  that  we  have  share  in  those  suf- 
ferings and  merits  which  have  pur- 
chased forgiveness  and  immortality  for 
the  lost.  And  when  the  apostle  pro- 
ceeds, in  the  words  of  our  text,  to  de- 
scribe this  hope  as  an  anchor  of  the 
soul,  we  are  to  understand  him  as  de- 
claring that  the  expectation  of  God's 
favor,  and  of  the  glories  of  heaven, 
through  the  atonement  and  intercession 
of  Christ,  is  exactly  calculated  to  keep 
us  steadfast  and  unmoved  amid  all  the 
tempests  of  our  earthly  estate.  We 
shall  assume,  then,  as  we  are  fully  war- 
ranted by  the  context  in  doing,  that 
the  hope  in  question  is  the  hope  of  sal- 


252 


THE    ANCHOR   OF    THE    SOCL. 


vation,  through  the  finished  work  of  the 
Mediator.  And  it  will  be  our  chief  bu- 
siness to  engage  you  with  the  meta- 
phorical description  which  the  apostle 
gives  of  this  hope,  and  thus  aptly  to  in- 
troduce the  peculiar  claims  of  the  Float- 
ing Church.  St.  Paul  likens  this  hope 
to  an  anchor  ;  and  then  declares  of  this 
anchor,  or  the  hope,  that  it  "  entereth 
into  that  within  the  veil."  Let  these 
be  our  topics  of  discourse  : 

The  first,  that  the  christian's  hope  is 
as  an  anchor  to  his  soul. 

The  second,  that  this  hope,  or  this 
anchor,  "  entereth  into  that  within  the 
veil." 

I.  Now  the  idea  which  is  immediate- 
ly suggested  by  this  metaphor  of  the 
anchor  is  that  of  our  being  exposed  to 
great  moral  peril,  tossed  on  rough  wa- 
ters, and  in  danger  of  making  shipwreck 
of  our  faith.     And  we  must  be  well  a- 
ware,  if  at  all  acquainted  with  ourselves 
and  our  circumstances,  that  such  idea 
is  in  every  respect  accurate,  and  that 
the  imagery  of  a  tempest-tossed  ship, 
girt  about  by  the  rock  and  the  quick- 
sand, as  well   as  beaten  by  the  hurri- 
cane, gives  no  exaggerated  picture  of 
the   believer   in    Christ,  as  opposition, 
under  various  forms,  labors  at  his  ruin. 
We  are  not,  indeed,  concerned  at  pre- 
sent with  delineating  the  progress,  but 
only  the  steadfastness  of  the  christian  ; 
but  here,  also,  the  ocean,  with  its  waves 
and  its  navies,  furnishes  the  aptest  of 
figures.    If  there  be  any  principle,  or 
set  of  principles,  which  keeps  the  chris- 
tian firm  and  immovable  amid  the  trials 
and  tempests,  which,  like  billows  and 
winds,  beat  on  him  furiously,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  we  may  fairly  liken  that  prin- 
ciple, or  that  set  of  principles,  to  the 
anchor,  which  holds  the  ship  fast,  whilst 
the  elements  are  raging,  and  enables 
her   to   ride  out  in   safety  the  storm. 
And  all,  therefore,  that  is  necessary,  in 
order  to  the  vindicating  the  metaphor 
of  our   text  is,  the  showing   that   the 
hope  of  which  St.  Paul  speaks  is  just 
calculated  for  the  giving  the  christian 
this  fixedness,  and  thus  preventing  his 
being  driven  on  the  rock,  or  drawn  in- 
to the  whirlpool. 

There  are  several,  and  all  simple 
modes,  in  which  it  may  be  shown  that 
such  is  the  property  of  this  hope.  We 
first  observe,  that  there  is  great  risk  of 
our  being  carried  about,  as  an  apostle 


expresses  it,  '*  with  every  wind  of  doc- 
trine ;"  and  whatever,  therefore,  tends 
to  the  keeping  us  in  the  right  faith,  in 
spite  of  gusts  of  error,  must  deserve 
to  be  characterized  as  an  anchor  of  the 
soul.    But,  we  may  unhesitatingly  de- 
clare, that  there  is  a  power,  the  very 
strongest,    in   the   hope    of    salvation 
through  Christ,  of  enabling  us  to  stand 
firm  against  the  incursions  of  heresy. 
The  man  who  has  this  hope  will  have 
no  ear  for  doctrines  which,  in  the  least 
degree,  depreciate  the  person  or  work 
of  the  Mediator.    You  take  away  from 
him  all  that  he  holds  most  precious,  if 
you  could  once  shake  his  belief  in  the 
atonement.  It  is  not  that  he  is  afraid  of 
examining  the  grounds  of  his  own  con- 
fidence ;  it  is,  that,  having  well  exam- 
ined them,  and  certified  himself  as  to 
their  being  irreversible,  his  confidence 
has  become  wound  up,  as  it  were,  with 
his  being;  and  it  is  like  assaulting  his 
existence,    to    assault    his  hope.    The 
hope  pre-supposes  faith  in  the  Savior; 
and  faith  has  reasons  for  the  persuasion 
that  Jesus  is  God's  Son,  and  "  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost :"  and  though  the 
individual    is    ready  enough    to  probe 
these    reasons,  and   to   bring  them   to 
any  fitting  criterion,  it  is  evident,  that 
where  faith  has  once  taken  possession, 
and  generated  hope,  he  has  so  direct 
and  overwhelming  an  interest  in  hold- 
ing fast  truth,  that  it  must  be  more  than 
a  precious  objection,  or  a  well-turned 
cavil,  which  will  prevail  to  the  loosen- 
ing of  his  grasp.    And  therefore  do  we 
affirm  of  the  hope  of  salvation,  that  he 
who  has  it,  is  little  likely  to  be  carried 
about  with  every  wind  of  doctrine.  We 
scarcely  dare  think  that  those  who  are 
christians  only  in  profession  and  theo- 
ry, would  retain  truth  without  waver- 
ing, if  exposed  to  the  machinations  of 
insidious  reasoners.     They  do  not  feel 
their  everlasting  portion  so  dependent 
on  the  doctrine  of  redemption  through 
the  blood  and  righteousness  of  a  Sure- 
ty, that,  to  shake  this  doctrine,  is  to 
make  them  castaways  for  eternity;  and 
therefore,  neither  can  they  oppose  that 
resistance  to  assault  which  will  be  of- 
fered by  others   who  know  that  it  is 
their  immortality  they  are  called  to  sur- 
render. You  may  look,  then,  on  an  indi- 
vidual, who,  apparently  unprepared  for 
a  vigorous  defence  of  his  creed,  is  yet 
not  to  be  overborne  by  the  strongest 


THE    ANCHOR    OF    THE    SOUL. 


253 


onset  of  heresy.    And  you  may  think 
to  account  for  his  firmness  by  resolv- 
ing it  into  a  kind  of  obstjnacy,  which 
makes  him  inaccessible  to  argument; 
and  thus  take  from  his  constancy  all 
moral  excellence,  by  representing  it  as 
imperviousness  to  all  moral  attack.  But 
we  have  a  better  explanation  to  pro- 
pose ;  one  which  does  not  proceed  on 
the  unwarranted  assumption,  that  there 
must  be  insensibility  where  there  has 
not  been  defeat.  We  know  of  the  indi- 
vidual, that  he  has  fled  for  refuge  to 
lay  hold  on  the  hope  set  before  him  in 
the  Gospel.    And  you  may  say  of  hope, 
that  it  is  a  shadowy  and  airy  thing,  not 
adapted  to  the  keeping  man  firm ;  but 
we  assert,  on  the  contrary,  of  the  hope 
of  salvation,  that  he  who  has  grasped 
it,  feels  that  he    has  grasped  what  is 
substantial  and  indestructible;  and  that 
henceforward,    to    wrench   away    this 
hope  would  be   like   wrenching    away 
the  rafter  from  the  drowning  man,  who 
knows  that,  if  he  loosen  his  hold,  he 
must   perish   in   the   waters.    Ay,  the 
hope  is  too  precious  to  be  tamely  sur- 
rendered.   It    has    animated    him    too 
much,  and  cheered  him  too  much,  and 
sustained  him  too  much,  to  be  given 
up  otherwise  than  inch  by  inch — every 
fraction  of  the  truths  on  which  it  rests 
being  disputed  for,  with  that  vehemence 
of  purpose  which  proves  the  conscious- 
ness that  with  defeat  can  come  nothing 
but  despair.    And  therefore  is  it  that  so 
little  way  is  made  by  the  teacher  of  in- 
fidelity and  error.  He  is  striving  to  pre- 
vail on  the   individual    he   attacks,  to 
throw  away,  as  worthless,  a  treasure 
which  he  would  not  change  for  what- 
soever earth  can  proffer  of  the  rich  and 
the  glorious;  and  where  is  the  marvel, 
if  he  find  himself  resisted  with  the  de- 
termination of  one  who  wrestles  for  his 
all!   You  may  liken,  then,  the  believer 
in  Christ  to  a  vessel  launched  on  trou- 
bled   waters,   and    you   may    consider 
scepticism    and    false    doctrine  as  the 
storms  which  threaten  him  with  ship- 
wreck. And  when  you  express  surprise 
that  a  bark,  which  seems  so  frail,  and 
so  poorly    equipped    against  the  tem- 
pest,   should   ride    out  the  hurricane, 
whilst  others,  a  thousand  times  better 
furnished  with  all  the  resources  of  in- 
tellectual seamanship,  drive  from  their 
moorings,  and  perish  on  the  quicksand ; 
we  have  only  to  tell  you,  that  it  is  not 


by  the  strength  of  reason,  and  not 
through  the  might  of  mental  energy, 
that  moral  shipwreck  is  avoided  ;  but 
that  a  hope  of  salvation  will  keep  the 
vessel  firm  when  all  the  cables  which 
man  weaves  for  himself  have  given 
way  like  tow ;  and  that  thus,  in  the 
wildest  of  the  storms  which  evil  men 
and  evil  angels  can  raise,  this  hope 
will  verify  the  apostle's  description, 
that  it  is  an  anchor  of  the  soul,  and 
that,  too,  sure  and  steadfast. 

But  there  are  other  respects  in  which 
it  may  be  equally  shown,  that  there  is 
a  direct  tendency  in  christian  hope  to 
the  promoting  christian  steadfastness. 
We  observe,  next,  that  a  believer  in 
Christ  is  in  as  much  danger  of  being 
moved  by  the  trials  with  which  he 
meets,  as  by  attacks  upon  his  faith. 
But  he  has  a  growing  consciousness 
that  "all  things  work  together  for 
good,"  and  therefore  an  increasing  sub- 
missivenessin  the  season  of  tribulation, 
or  an  ever-strengthening  adherence 
to  God,  as  to  a  father.  And  that  which 
contributes,  perhaps  more  than  aught 
besides,  to  the  producing  this  adhe- 
rence, is  the  hope  on  which  the  chris- 
tian lays  hold.  If  you  study  the  lan- 
guage of  David  when  in  trouble,  you 
will  find  that  it  was  hope  by  which  he 
was  sustained.  He  describes  himself  in 
terms  which  accurately  correspond  to 
the  imagery  of  our  text.  "Deep  call- 
eth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of  thy  wa- 
terspouts ;  all  thy  waves  and  thy  bil- 
lows are  gone  over  me."  But  when 
the  tempest  was  thus  at  its  height, 
and  every  thing  seemed  to  conspire  to 
overwhelm  and  destroy  him,  he  could 
yet  say,  "  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O 
my  soul !  and  why  art  thou  disquieted 
within  me  1  Hope  thou  in  God  ;  for  I 
shall  yet  praise  Him,  who  is  the  health 
of  my  countenance,  and  my  God."  It 
is  hope,  you  observe,  to  which  he  turns, 
as  the  principle  through  which  the  soul 
might  best  brave  the  hurricane.  And 
can  we  wonder  that  a  hope,  such  as 
that  of  the  believer  in  Christ,  should  so 
contribute  to  the  steadfastness  of  its 
possessor,  that  the  winds  may  buffet 
him,  and  the  floods  beat  against  him, 
and  yet  he  remains  firm,  like  the  well- 
anchored  vessel  1  He  knew  that,  in 
throwing  in  his  lot  Avith  the  followers 
of  Jesus,  he  was  consenting  to  a  life 
of  stern  moral  discipline,  and  that  he 


254. 


THE    ANCHOR    OF    THE    SOUL. 


must  be  prepared  for  a  more  than  or- 
dinary share  of  those  chastisements 
from  which  nature  recoils.  And  why, 
forewarned  as  he  thus  was  of  what 
would  be  met  with  in  a  christian  course, 
did  he  adventure  on  the  profession  of  a 
religion  that  was  to  multiply  his  trou- 
bles ]  Why  embarked  he  on  an  ocean, 
swept  by  fiercer  winds,  and  arched  with 
darker  skies,  when  he  might  have  sha- 
ped his  voyage  over  less  agitated  wa- 
ters 1  We  need  not  tell  you,  that  he 
has  heard  of  a  bright  land,  which  is 
only  to  be  reached  by  launching  forth 
on  the  boisterous  sea.  We  need  not 
tell  you,  that  he  assured  himself,  upon 
evidence  which  admits  no  dispute,  that 
there  is  no  safety  for  a  vessel  freighted 
with  immortality,  unless  she  be  tem- 
pest-tossed 5  and  that,  though  there 
may  be  a  smoother  expanse,  dotted 
with  islands  which  seem  clad  with  a 
richer  verdure,  and  sparkling  with  a 
sunshine  which  is  more  cheering  to 
the  senses  of  the  mariner,  yet  that  it 
is  on  the  lake,  thus  sleeping  in  its 
beauty,  that  the  ship  is  in  most  peril ; 
and  that  if  the  lake  be  changed  for  the 
wild  broad  ocean,  then  only  will  a  home 
be  reached  where  no  storm  rages,  and 
no  clouds  darken,  but  where,  in  one 
unbroken  tranquillity,  those  who  have 
braved  the  moral  tempest  will  repose 
eternally  in  the  light  of  God's  counte- 
nance. It  is  hope,  then,  by  which  the 
christian  Avas  animated,  when  taking 
his  resolve  to  breast  the  fury  of  every 
adversary,  and  embrace  areligion  which 
told  him  that  in  the  world  he  should 
have  tribulation.  And  when  the  tribu- 
lation comes,  and  the  crested  waves 
are  swelling  higher  and  higher,  why 
should  you  expect  him  to  be  driven 
back,  or  swallowed  up  1  Is  it  the  loss 
of  property  with  which  he  is  visited, 
and  which  threatens  to  shake  his  de- 
pendance  upon  God  1  Hope  whispers 
that  he  has  in  heaven  an  enduring 
substance  ;  and  he  takes  joyfully  the 
spoiling  of  his  goods.  Is  it  the  loss  of 
friends  %  He  sorrows  not  "  even  as 
others  which  have  no  hope,"  but  is 
comforted  by  the  knowledge,  that 
"  them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus  will 
God  bring  with  him."  Is  it  sickness — 
is  it  the  treachery  of  friends — is  it 
the  failure  of  cherished  plans,  which 
hangs  the  firmament  with  blackness, 
and  works  the  waters  into  fury  1  None 


of  these  things  move  him  ;  for  hope 
assures  him  that  his  "  light  affliction, 
which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh 
for  him  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  Is  it  death, 
which,  advancing  in  its  awfulness, 
would  beat  down  his  confidence,  and 
snap  his  cordage,  and  send  him  adrift  1 
His  hope  is  a  hope  full  of  immorta- 
lity :  he  knows  "in  whom  he  hath  be- 
lieved, and  is  persuaded  that  hejs 
able  to  keep  that  which  he  hath  com- 
mitted unto  him  against  that  day." 
And  thus,  from  whatever  point  the 
tempest  rages,  there  is  a  power  in 
that  hope  which  God  hath  implanted, 
of  holding  fast  the  christian,  and  pre- 
venting his  casting  away  that  confi- 
dence which  hath  great  recompense 
of  reward.  We  can  bid  you  look  upon 
him,  when,  on  every  human  calcula- 
tion, so  fierce  is  the  hurricane,  and  so 
wrought  are  the  waves  into  madness, 
there  would  seem  no  likelihood  of  his 
avoiding  the  making  shipwreck  of  his 
faith.  And  when  you  find,  that,  in  place 
of  being  stranded  or  engulfed,  he  re- 
sists the  wild  onset,  and,  if  he  do  not 
for  the  moment  advance,  keeps  the 
way  he  has  made,  oh !  then  we  have 
an  easy  answer  to  give  to  inquiries 
as  to  the  causes  of  this  unexpected 
steadfastness.  We  do  not  deny  the 
strength  of  the  storm,  and  the  might 
of  the  waters  ,  but  we  tell  you  of  a 
hope  which  grows  stronger  and  stron- 
ger as  tribulation  increases  :  stronger, 
because  sorrow  is  the  known  disci- 
pline for  the  enjoyment  of  the  object 
of  this  hope ;  stronger,  because  the 
proved  worthlessness  of  what  is  earth- 
ly serves  to  fix  the  affections  more 
firmly  on  what  is  heavenly ;  stronger, 
inasmuch  as  there  are  promises  of  God, 
which  seem  composed  on  purpose  for 
the  season  of  trouble,  and  which,  then 
grasped  by  faith,  throw  new  vigor  into 
hope.  And  certainly,  if  we  may  affirm 
all  this  of  the  hope  of  a  christian, 
there  is  no  room  for  wonder  that  he 
rides  out  the  hurricane  ;  for  such  hope 
is  manifestly  an  anchor  of  the  soul, 
and  that,  too,  sure  and  steadfast. 

We  go  on  to  observe,  that  the  chris- 
tian is  exposed  to  great  varieties  of 
temptation  :  tlie  passions  of  an  evil  na- 
ture, and  the  enticements  of  a  "world 
which  lieth  in  wickedness,"  conspire 
to  draw  him  aside  from  righteousness, 


THE    ANCHOR    OF    THE    SOUL. 


255 


and  force  him  back  to  the  habits  and 
scenes  which  he  has  professedly  aban- 
doned.   The  danger  of  spiritual  ship- 
wreck would  be  comparatively  small, 
if  the  sea  on  which  he  voyages  were 
swept  by  no  storms  but  those  of  sor- 
row and  persecution.    The  risk  is  far 
p-reater,  when  he   is  assaulted  by  the 
solicitations  of  his  own  lusts,  and  the 
corrupt    affections  of   his    nature    are 
plied  with  their  correspondent  objects. 
And  though  it  too  often  happens  that 
he  is  overcome  by  temptation,  we  are 
sure,  that,  if  he  kept  hope  in  exercise, 
he  would  not  be  moved  by  the  plead- 
ings of  the  flesh  and  the  world.    Let 
hope  be  in  vigor,  and  the   christian's 
mind   is   fixed  on  a  portion  which  he 
can  neither  measure  by  his   imagina- 
tion, nor  be   deprived   of  by  liis  ene- 
mies.   He  is  already  in  a  city  which 
hath  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the 
moon  ;  whose  walls  are  of  jasper,  and 
whose    streets    of   gold.     Already    he 
joins  the  general  assembly  and  church 
of  the    first-born — already    is    he    the 
equal  of  angels — already  is  he  advanc- 
ing with  a  shining  company,  which  no 
man  can  number,  towards  the  throne  of 
God  and  of  the  Lamb,  and  beholding 
face  to  face  the  Creator  and  Redeemer, 
and  bursting  into  an  ecstasy  of  adora- 
tion, as  the  magnificence  of  Deity  is 
more  and  more  developed.    And  now, 
if,  at  a  time  such  as  this, — when  it  may 
almost  be  said  that  he  has  entered  the 
haven,  that  he  breathes  the  fragrance, 
and  gazes  on  the  loveliness,  and  shares 
the  delights  of  the  Paradise  of  God, — 
he  be  solicited  to  the  indulgence  of  a 
lust,  the  sacrifice  of  a  principle,  or  the 
pursuit  of  a  bauble, — can  you  think  the 
likelihood  to  be  great  that  he  will  be 
mastered  by  the  temptation,   that   he 
will"  return,  at  the  summons  of  some 
low  passion,  from  his  splendid  excur- 
sion, and  defile  himself  with  the  impu- 
rities of  earth  1  Oh!  we  can  be  confi- 
dent— and   the   truth  is  so   evident  as 
not  to  need  proof — that,  in  proportion 
as  a  man  is  anticipating  the  pleasures 
of  eternity,  he  will  be  firm  in  his  re- 
solve of  abstaining  from  the  pleasures 
of  sin.    We  can   be  confident,  that  if 
hope,  the  hope   set  before   us  in   the 
Gospel,  be   earnestly   clung  to,   there 
will  be  no  room   in  the  grasp  for  the 
glittering  toys  with  which  Satan  would 
bribe  us  to  throw  away  our  eternity. 


And  therefore, — to  bring   the   matter 
again   under  the  figure  of  our  text, — 
we  can  declare  of  hope,  that  it  minis- 
ters to  christian  steadfastness,  when  the 
temptations  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  devil,  combine  to  produce  waver- 
ing and  inconstancy.    Again  we  liken 
the  christian  to  a  ship,  and  the  tempta- 
tions by  which  he  is  met  to  a  tempest, 
which  threatens  to  drive  him  back,  and 
cast  him  a  wreck  upon  the  shore.  And 
it  would  avail  nothing  that  he  was  fur- 
nished with  the  anchors,  if  such  they 
jnay  be  called,  of  a  philosophic  love  of 
virtue,  of  a  feeling  that  vice  is  degrad- 
ing to  man,  and  of  a  general  opinion 
that   God   may  possibly  approve   self- 
denial.    If  these  held  the  ship  at  first, 
they  would  quickly  give  way,    when 
the  storm  of  evil  passion  grew  towards 
its  height.    But  hope — the  hope  of  a 
heaven  into  which  shall  enter  nothing 
that  defileth;  the  hope  of  joys  as  pure 
as  they  are   lofty,  and  as  spiritual  as 
they  are  abiding  ;  the  hope  of  what  the 
eye   hath   not   seen,  and   the  ear  hath 
not  heard,  but  which  can  be  neither  at- 
tained nor  enjoyed  without  holiness — 
this  hope,  we  say,  is  a  christian's  sheet- 
anchor  in  the  hurricane  of  temptation  ; 
and  if  he  use  this  hope,  in  his  endea- 
vors to  bear  up  against  the  elements, 
he   shall,  by  God's  help,   weather  the 
worst  moral  storm  ;  and  then,  when  the 
sky  is   again  bright,    and  the   mighty 
billows  have  subsided,  and  the  vessel 
again  spreads  her  canvass,  oh!  he  shall 
gratefully  and  rejoicingly    confess    of 
this   hope,  that  it  is  an  anchor  of  the 
soul,  and  that,  too,  sure  and  steadfast. 
II.  Now,  throughout   these  illustra- 
tions  we   have    rather   assumed    than 
proved  that  christian  hope  is  of  a  na- 
ture widely  different  from  that  of  any 
other.    But  it  will  be  easily  seen  that 
we  have  claimed  for  it  nothing  beyond 
the  truth,  if  we  examine,  in  the  second 
place,  the  apostle's  statement  in  regard 
of  a  christian's  hope,  that  it  ''  entereth 
into  that  within   the  veil."    The  allu- 
sion is  undoubtedly  to  the  veil,  or  cur- 
tain,  which   separated  the  holy  place 
from  the  holy  of  holies  in  the  temple 
at   Jerusalem.    By  the   holy  of  holies 
was  typified  the  scene  of  God's  imme- 
diate presence,   into  which  Christ  en- 
tered when  the  days  of  his  humiliation 
were  ended.  And  hence  we  understand 
by  the  hope,  or  the  anchor,  entering 


256 


THE   ANCHOR   OF   THE   SOUL. 


within  the  veil,  that,  in  believing  upon 
Jesus,  we  fasten  ourselves,  as  it  were, 
to  the  realities  of  the  invisible  world. 
This  throws  new  and  great  light  on  the 
simile  of  our  text.  It  appears  that  the 
christian,  whilst  tossing  on  a  tempes- 
tuous sea,  is  fast  bound  to  another 
scene  of  being ;  and  that,  whilst  the 
vessel  is  on  the  waters  of  time,  the  an- 
chor is  on  the  rock  of  eternity.  And  it 
is  not  possible  that  the  soul  should  find 
safe  anchorage  without  the  veil.  Con- 
scious as  she  is,  and  often  forced  to  al- 
low scope  to  the  consciousness,  that 
she  is  not  to  perish  with  the  body,  she 
may  strive,  indeed,  to  attach  herself 
firmly  to  terrestrial  things ;  but  an 
overgrown  restlessness  will  prove  that 
she  has  cast  her  anchor  where  it  can- 
not gain  a  hold.  If  we  were  merely 
intellectual  beings,  and  not  also  im- 
mortal, the  case  might  be  different. 
There  might  be  an  anchor  of  the  mind, 
which  entered  not  into  that  within  the 
veil,  of  strength  enough,  and  tenacity 
enough,  to  produce  steadfastness  amid 
the  fluctuations  of  life.  But  immortal 
as  we  are,  as  well  as  intellectual,  the 
anchor  of  the  soul  must  be  dropped  in 
the  waters  of  the  boundless  hereafter. 
And  when,  after  vain  efforts  to  pre- 
serve herself  from  wreck  and  disquie- 
tude, by  fixing  her  hope  on  things 
which  perish  with  the  using,  she  is 
taught  of  God  to  make  heaven  and  its 
glories  the  object  of  expectation,  then 
it  is  as  though  she  had  let  down  her 
anchor  to  the  very  base  of  the  ever- 
lasting hills,  and  a  mighty  hold  is  gain- 
ed, and  the  worst  tempest  may  be  de- 
fied. The  soul  which  is  thus  anchored 
in  eternity,  is  like  the  vessel  which  a 
stanch  cable  binds  to  the  distant  shore 
and  which  gradually  warps  itself  into 
harbor.  There  is  at  once  Avhat  will 
keep  her  steadfast  in  the  storm,  and  ad- 
vance her  towards  the  haven.  Who 
knows  not  that  the  dissatisfaction 
which  men  always  experience  whilst 
engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  earthly  good, 
arises  mainly  from  a  vast  dispropor- 
tion between  their  capacities  for  hap- 
piness, and  that  material  of  happiness 
with  which  they  think  to  fill  theml 
What  they  hope  for  is  some  good,  re- 
specting which  they  might  be  certain, 
that,  if  attained,  it  will  only  disappoint. 
And  therefore  is  it,  that  in  place  of 
being  as  an  anchor,  hope  itself  agitates 


them,  driving  them  hither  and  thither, 
like  ships  without  ballast.  But  it  is  not 
thus  with  a  hope  which  entereth  with- 
in the  veil.  Within  the  veil  are  laid 
up  joys  and  possessions  which  are  more 
than  commensurate  with  men's  capa- 
cities for  happiness,  when  stretched  to 
the  utmost.  Within  the  veil  is  a  glory, 
such  as  was  never  proposed  by  ambi- 
tion in  its  most  daring  flight;  and  a 
wealth,  such  as  never  passed  before 
avarice  in  its  most  golden  dreams ; 
and  delights,  such  as  imagination,  when 
employed  in  delineating  the  most  ex- 
quisite pleasures,  hath  never  been  able 
to  array.  And  let  hope  fasten  on  this 
glory,  this  wealth,  these  delights,  and 
presently  the  soul,  as  though  she  felt 
that  the  objects  of  desire  were  as  am- 
ple as  herself,  acquires  a  fixedness  of 
purpose,  a  steadiness  of  aim,  a  com- 
bination of  energies,  which  contrast 
strangely  with  the  inconstancy,  the  va- 
cillation, the  distraction,  which  have 
made  her  hitherto  the  sport  of  every 
wind  and  every  wave.  The  object  of 
hope  being  immeasurable,  inexhausti- 
ble, hope  clings  to  this  object  with  a 
tenacity  which  it  cannot  manifest  when 
grasping  only  the  insignificant  and  un- 
substantial ;  and  thus  the  soul  is  bound, 
we  might  almost  say  indissolubly,  to 
the  unchangeable  realities  of  the  inhe- 
ritance of  the  saints.  And  can  you 
marvel,  if,  with  her  anchor  thus  drop- 
ped within  the  veil,  she  is  not  to  be 
driven  from  her  course  bj^  the  wildest 
of  the  storms  which  yet  rage  without  1 
Besides,  within  the  veil  is  an  Interces- 
sor, whose  pleadings  insure  that  these 
objects  of  hope  shall  be  finally  attain- 
ed. There  is  something  exquisitely 
beautiful  in  the  idea,  that  the  anchor 
has  not  been  dropped  in  the  rough  wa- 
ters which  the  christian  has  to  navi- 
gate. The  anchor  rests  where  there  is 
one  eternal  calm,  and  its  hold  is  on  a 
rock,  which  no  action  of  the  waves  can 
wear  down.  You  may  say  of  christian 
hope,  that  it  is  a  principle  which  gives 
fixedness  to  the  soul,  because  it  can  ap- 
peal to  an  ever-living,  ever-prevalent 
Intercessor,  Avho  is  pledged  to  make 
good  its  amplest  expectations.  It  is 
the  hope  of  joys  which  have  been  pur- 
chased at  a  cost  which  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  compute,  and  which  are  deli- 
vered into  a  guardianship  which  it  is 
notjpossible  to  defeat.    It  is  the  hope 


THE    ANCHOR    OF    THE    SOUL. 


257 


of  an  inheritance,  our  title  to  which 
has  been  written  in  the  blood  of  the 
Mediator,  and  our  entrance  into  which 
that  Mediator  ever  lives  to  secure. 
And  therefore  is  it  that  we  affirm  of 
christian  hope,  that  it  is  precisely 
adapted  to  the  preventing^  the  soul 
from  being  borne  away  by  the  gusts 
of  temptation,  or  swallowed  up  in  the 
deep  waters  of  trial.  It  is  more  than 
hope.  It  is  hope  with  all  its  attrac- 
tiveness, and  with  none  of  its  uncer- 
tainty. It  is  hope  with  all  that  beauty 
and  brilliancy  by  which  men  are  fasci- 
nated, and  with  none  of  that  delusive- 
ness by  which  they  are  deceived.  It  is 
hope,  with|its  bland  and  soothing  voice, 
but  that  voice  whispering  nothing  but 
truth  ;  hope,  with  its  untired  wing, 
but  that  wing  lifting  only  to  regions 
which  have  actual  existence ;  hope, 
with  its  fairy  pencil,  but  that  pencil 
painting  only  what  really  flashes  with 
the  gold  and  vermilion.  Oh,  if  hope 
bs  fixed  upon  Christ,  that  Rock  of 
Ages, — a  rock  rent,  if  we  may  use  the 
expression,  on  purpose  that  there  might 
be  a  holding-place  for  the  anchors  of  a 
perishing  world — it  may  well  come  to 
pass  that  hope  gives  the  soul  stead- 
fastness. I  know  that  within  the  veil 
there  ever  reigneth  one  who  obtained 
risfht,  by  his  agony  and  passion,  to  rear 
eternal  mansions  for  those  who  believe 
upon  his  name.  I  know  that  within  the 
veil  there  are  not  only  pleasures  and 
possessions  adequate  to  the  capacities 
of  my  nature,  when  advanced  to  full 
manhood,  but  a  friend,  a  surety,  an  ad- 
vocate, who  cannot  be  prevailed  with, 
even  by  unworthiness,  to  refuse  me  a  j 
share  in  what  he  died  to  procure,  and 
lives  to  bestow.  And  therefore,  if  I  fix  i 
my.  hope  within  the  veil :  within  the  j 
veil,  where  are  the  alone  delights  that 
can  satisfy';  within  the  veil,  where  is 
Christ,  whose  intercession  can  never 
be  in  vain, — hope  will  be  such  as  is 
neither  to  be  diverted  by  passing  at- 
tractions, nor  daunted  by  apprehensions 
of  failure  :  it  will,  consequently,  keep 
me  firm  alike  amid  the  storm  of  evil 
passions,  and  the  inrush  of  Satan's  sug- 
gestions ;  it  will  enable  me  equally  to 
withstand  the  current  which  would 
hurry  me  into  disobedience,  and  the 
eddies  which  would  sink  me  into  des- 
pondency. And,  oh,  then,  is  it  not 
with  justice  that  I  declare   of  hope, 


that  "  it  is  an  anchor  of  the  soul  both 
sure  and  steadfast ;"  and  that  I  give  as 
the  reason,  that  "  it  entereth  into  that 
within  the  veil !" 

And  now  we  may  safely  ask,  whe- 
ther, if  you  know  any  thing  practically 
of  the  worth  of  christian  hope,  you 
can  be  indifi'erent  to  the  condition  of 
thousands  around  you,  who  have  no 
such  anchor  of  the  soul  1  If  you  are 
anchored  within  the  veil,  can  you  look 
on  with  unconcern,  whilst  many  a  no- 
ble bark,  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left,  freighted  with  immortality,  is 
drifting  to  and  fro,  the  sport  of  every 
wind,  and  in  danger,  each  instant,  of 
being  wrecked  for  eternity  1  We  are 
sure  that  christian  privileges  are  of  so 
generous  and  communicative  a  nature, 
that  no  man  can  possess,  and  not 
wish  to  impart  them.  And  if  there  be 
a  class  of  individuals  who,  on  all  ac- 
counts, have  a  more  than  common 
claim  on  the  sympathy  of  christians, 
because  more  than  commonly  exposed 
to  moral  tempests  and  dangers,  may 
we  not  select  sailors  as  that  class, — 
men  whose  business  is  in  great  wa- 
ters, who  from  boyhood  have  been  at 
home  on  the  sea,  whether  in  storm  or 
in  calm  ;  but  whose  opportunities  of 
christian  instruction  are,  for  the  most 
part,  wretchedly  small ;  and  who  learn 
to  steer  to  every  harbor  except  that 
which  lieth  within  the  veil  1  The  reli- 
gious public  have  much  to  answer  for 
on  account  of  the  neglect — of  course 
we  speak  comparatively — which  they 
have  manifested  towards  sailors.  Very 
little  has  even  yet  been  done  towards 
ameliorating  their  moral  condition. 
So  soon  as  the  sailor  returns  to  port, 
after  having  been  long  tossed  on  dis- 
tant seas,  he  is  surrounded  by  mis- 
creants, who  seek  to  entice  him  to 
scenes  of  the  worst  profligacy,  that 
they  may  possess  \  themselves  of  his 
hard-earned  gains.  And  christian  phi- 
lanthropy has  been  very  slow  in  step- 
ping in  and  offering  an  asylum  to  the 
sailor,  where  he  may  be  secure  against 
the  villany  which  would  ruin  body  and 
soul.  Christian  philanthropy  has  been 
very  slow  in  taking  measures  for  pro- 
viding, that,  when  he  returned  from 
his  Avanderings — probably  to  find  many 
in  the  grave  who  had  sent  anxious 
thoughts  after  him  as  he  ploughed  the 
great  deep,  and  who  had  vainly  hoped 
33 


258 


THE    Ai^CHOR   OF   THE   SOUL. 


to  welcome  him  back — he  should  have 
the  Gospel  preached  to  him,  and  the 
ministers  of  Christianity  to  counsel, 
and  admonish,  and  encourage  him.  It 
is  vain  to  say,  that  our  churches  have 
been  open,  and  that  the  sailor,  as  well 
as  the  landsman,  might  enter,  and  hear 
the  glad  tidings  of  redemption.  You 
are  to  remember,  that  for  months,  and 
perhaps  even  years,  the  sailor  has  been 
debarred  from  the  means  of  grace ;  he 
has  been  in  strange  climes,  where  he 
has  seen  nothing  but  idolatry;  even  the 
forms  of  religion  have  been  altogether 
kept  from  him  ;  and  now  he  requires 
to  be  sought  out,  and  entreated ;  and 
unless  in  some  peculiar  mode^you  bring 
the  Gospel  to  him,  the  likelihood  is 
the  very  smallest  of  his  seeking  it 
for  himself.  But  we  thank  God  that  of 
late  years  attempts  have  been  made,  so 
far  as  the  port  of  this  great  city  is 
concerned,  to  provide  christian  instruc- 
tion for  sailors.  There  is  now  a  Float- 
ing Church  in  our  river :  a  vessel, 
which  had  been  built  for  the  battle, 
and  which  walked  the  waters  to  pour 
its  thunders  on  the  enemies  of  our 
land,  has,  through  the  kindness  of  go- 
vernment, been  converted  into  a  place 
of  worship  ;  and  a  flag  waves  from  it, 
telling  the  mariner  that,  on  the  element 
which  he  has  made  his  own,  he  may 
learn  how  to  cast  anchor  for  eternity; 
and  the  minister  of  this  church  moves 
about  among  the  swarming  ships,  as 
he  would  move  through  his  parish,  en- 
deavoring by  the  use  of  all  the  engines 
by  which  God  has  intrusted  his  ambas- 
sadors, to  arrest  vice,  and  gain  a  hold 
for  religion  amongst  the  wild  and  wea- 
ther-beaten crews.  And  it  is  in  support 
of  this  church  that  we  now  ask  your 
contributions.  His  Majesty  the  King, 
by  the  liberal  annual  subscription  of 
JG50,  shows  how  warm  an  interest  he 
takes  in  the  cause,  and  recommends  it 
to  the  succor  of  his  subjects.  The  ex- 
emplary bishop,  moreover,  of  this  dio- 
cese— whom  may  a  gracious  God  soon 
restore  to  full  health — is  deeply  inter- 
ested on  behalf  of  this  church.  But 
you  cannot  need  to  be  told  of  the  great 
and  the  noble  who  support  this  cause  ; 
it  asks  not  the  recommendation  of  ti- 
tled patronage  ;  you  are  Englishmen, 
and  the  church  is  for  sailors.  Yes,  the 
church  is  for  sailors;  men  who  have 
bled  for  us,  men  who  fetch  for  us  all 


the  productions  of  the  earth,  men  who 
carry  out  to  every  land  the  Bibles 
we  translate,  and  the  missionaries  we 
equip:  the  church  is  for  sailors;  and 
yet  though  the  annual  expenditure  is 
only  between  three  and  four  hundred 
pounds,  the  stated  annual  income — 1 
am  almost  ashamed  to  say  it — is  only 
a  hundred  and  fifty.  I  am  persuaded, 
that  to  mention  this  will  suffice  to  pro- 
cure a  very  liberal  collection.  I  cannot 
bring  myself  to  attempt  the  working 
on  your  feelings.  When  I  plead  the 
cause  of  sailors,  it  seems  to  me  as 
though  the  hurricane  and  the  battle, 
the  ocean  with  its  crested  billows,  and 
war  with  its  magnificently  stern  re- 
tinue, met  and  mingled  to  give  force 
to  the  appeal.  It  seems  as  though 
stranded  navies,  the  thousands  who 
have  gone  down  with  the  waves  for 
their  winding-sheet,  and  who  await  in 
unfathomable  caverns  the  shrill  trum- 
pet-peal of  the  archangel,  rose  to  ad- 
monish us  of  the  vast  debt  we  owe 
those  brave  fellows  who  are  continu- 
ally jeoparding  their  lives  in  our  ser- 
vice. And  then  there  comes  also  be- 
fore me  the  imagery  of  a  mother,  who 
has  parted,  with  many  tears  and  ma- 
ny forebodings,  from  her  sailor-boy; 
whose  thoughts  have  accompanied  him 
as  none  but  those  of  a  mother  can,  in 
his  long  wanderings  over  the  deep,  and 
who  would  rejoice,  with  all  a  mother's 
gladness,  to  know  that  where  his  nior- 
al  danger  was  greatest,  there  was  a 
church  to  receive  him,  and  a  minister 
to  counsel  him.  But  we  shall  not  en- 
large on  such  topics.  We  only  throw 
out  hints,  believing  that  this  is  enough 
to  waken  thoughts  in  your  minds, 
which  will  not  allow  of  your  content- 
ing yourselves  with  such  contributions 
as  are  the  ordinary  produce  of  charity- 
sermons.  The  great  glory  of  England, 
and  her  great  defence,  have  long  lain, 
under  the  blessing  of  God,  in  what  we 
emphatically  call  her  wooden  walls. 
And  if  we  could  make  vital  Christianity 
general  amongst  our  sailors,  we  should 
have  done  more  than  can  be  calculated 
towards  giving  permanence  to  our  na- 
tional greatness,  and  bringing  onward 
the  destruction  of  heathenism.  We  say 
adviserlly,  the  destruction  of  heathen- 
ism. The  influence  is  not  to  be  com- 
puted which  English  sailors  now  exert 
for  evil  all  over  the  globe.    They  are 


THE    DIVINE    PATIENCE    BXHAtJSTED,    &c. 


259 


scattered  all  over  the  globe;  but  too 
often,  though  far  from  always,  unhap- 
pily, their  dissoluteness  brings  discre- 
dit on  the  christian  religion,  and   pa- 
gans learn  to  ridicule  the  faith  which 
seems  prolific  of  nothing  but  vice.  Our 
grand   labor   therefore    should    be   to 
teach  our  sailors  to  cast  anchor  within 
the   veil;   and  then  in  all  their  voya- 
ges would  they  serve  as  missionaries, 
and  not  a  ship  would  leave  our  coasts  j 
which  was  not  freighted  with  preach- 
ers of  redemption;   and  wheresoever  : 
the  British  flag  flies,  and  that  is  where-  ' 
soever  the  sea  beats,  would  the  stand-  | 
ard  of  the  cross  be  displayed.  Ay,  man 
our  wooden  walls  with  men  who  have 


taken  christian  hope  as  the  anchor  of 
the  soul;  and  these  walls  shall  be  as 
ramparts  which  no  enemies  can  over- 
throw, and  as  batteries  for  the  demoli- 
tion of  the  strongholds  of  Satan.  Then, 
— and  may  God  hasten  the  time,  and 
may  you  now  prove  your  desire  for  its 
coming — then  will  the  navy  of  England 
be  every  where  irresistible,  because 
every  v.-here  voyaging  in  the  strength 
and  service  of  the  Lord  ;  and  the  noble 
wordsofpoetrj'^  shall  be  true  in  a  higher 
sense  than  could  ever  yet  be  affirmed : 

"  Britannia  needs  no  bulwark, 

"  iSo  towers  along  the  steep; 
"  Her  march  is  on  the  mountain-wave, 

"  Her  home  is  on  the  deep  '" 


SERMON. 


THE  DIVINE  PATIENCE  EXHAUSTED  THROUGH  THE  MAKING 

VOID  THE  LAW. 


"It  is  time  for  thee.  Lord,  to  work:  for  they  have  made  void  thy  law.  Therefore  I  love  thy  command- 
ments above  gold;  yea,  above  fine  gold." — Psalm  119  :  126,  127. 


There  is  no  property  of  the  divine 
nature  which  demands  more,  whether 
of  our  admiration  or  of  our  gratitude, 
than  long-sufl'ering.    That  the  Lord  is 
^*  slow  to  anger" — there  is  more  in  this  I 
to  excite  both  wonder  and  praise,  than  i 
in  those  other  truths  with  which  it  is  ' 
associated   by    the    prophet    Nahum.  i 
"  The  Lord  is  slow  to  anger,  and  great 
in  power,  and  will  not  at  all  acquit  the  i 
wicked  :  the  Lord  hath  his  way  in  the  | 
whirlwind  and  in  the  storm,  and  the  j 
clouds  are  the  dust  of  his  feet."    We  i 
have  often  told  you  that  the  long-suf-  ! 
fering  of  God  is  wonderful,  because  it  | 
indicates  the  putting  constraint  on  his  | 
own  attributes;  it  is  omnipotence  ex- ( 
erted  over  the  Omnipotent  himself.        j 

So  far  as  our  own  interests  are  con-  I 
cerned,  you  will  readily  admit  that  we  j 
are  extraordinarily  indebted  to  the  Di- 1 


vine  forbearance.  Those  of  us  who  are 
now  walking  the  path  of  life,  where 
would  they  have  been,  had  not  God 
borne  long  with  them,  refusing,  as  it 
were,  to  be  Vv^earied  out  by  their  per- 
versity 1  Those  who  are  yet  "stran- 
gers from  the  covenant  of  promise,"  to 
what  but  the  patience  of  their  Maker  is 
it  owing,  that  they  have  not  been  cut 
down  as  cumberers  of  the  ground,  but 
still  stand  withiii  the  possibilities  of 
forgiveness  and  acceptance  1  But  it  is 
a  melancholy  thing  that  we  are  com- 
pelled to  add,  that  there  is  a  great  ten- 
dency in  all  of  us  to  the  abusing  God's 
long-suffering,  and  to  the  so  presuming 
on  his  forbearance  as  to  continue  in 
sin.  We  may  be  sure  that  a  vast  out- 
ward reformation  would  be  wrought 
on  the  world,  if  there  were  a  sudden 
change  in  God's  dealings,  so  that  pun- 


260 


THE    DIVINE    PATIENCE    EXHAUSTED 


ishment  followed  instantaneously  on 
crime.  If  the  Almighty  were  to  mark 
out  certain  ofTences,  the  perpetration 
of  which  he  would  immediately  visit 
with  death,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
these  ofl'ences  would  be  shunned  with 
the  greatest  carefulness,  and  that  too 
by  the  very  men  whom  no  exhortations, 
and  no  warnings,  can  now  deter  from 
their  commission.  Yet  it  is  not  that 
punishment  is  one  jot  less  certain  now 
than  it  would  be  on  the  supposed  change 
of  arrangement.  The  only  difference  is, 
that,  in  one  case,  God  displays  long- 
suffering,  and  that  in  the  other  he  would 
not  display  long-suffering — the  certain- 
ty that  punishment  will  follow  crime  is 
quite  the  same  in  both.  And  thus,  un- 
happily, sin  is  less  avoided  than  it  would 
be  if  we  lived  under  an  economy  of 
immediate  retribution  ;  and  "  because 
sentence  against  an  evil  work  is  not 
executed  speedily,  therefore  the  heart 
of  the  sons  of  men  is  fully  set  in  them 
to  do  evil."  In  place  of  being  softened 
by  the  patience  of  which  we  have  so 
long  been  the  objects,  we  are  apt  to  be 
encouraged  by  it  to  further  resistance  ; 
calculating  that  he  who  has  so  often 
forborne  to  strike,  will  spare  a  little 
longer,  and  that  we  may  with  safety 
yet  defer  to  repent. 

It  is,  therefore,  of  great  importance 
that  men  be  taught  that  there  are  lim- 
its even  to  the  forbearance  of  God,  and 
that  it  is  possible  so  to  presume  on  it 
as  to  exhaust.  And  this  is  evidently 
what  the  Psalmist  inculcates  in  the 
first  of  those  verses  on  which  we  would 
discourse.  He  seems  to  mark  the  times 
in  which  he  lived  as  times  of  extraor- 
dinary depravity,  when  men  had  thrown 
off"  the  restraints  of  religion.  "They 
have  made  void  thy  law."  They  have 
reduced  the  divine  precepts  to  a  dead 
letter,  and  refuse  to  receive  them  as  a 
rule  of  life.  The  expression  manifest- 
ly denotes  that  a  more  than  common 
contempt  was  put  on  the  command- 
ments of  God,  and  that  men  had  reach- 
ed a  rare  point  of  insolence  and  diso- 
bedience. And  it  is  further  manifest, 
that,  when  wickedness  was  thus  at  its 
height,  David  expected  that  there  would 
be  an  end  of  the  forbearance  of  God, 
and  that  he  would  at  length  give  scope 
to  his  righteous  indignation.  "  It  is 
time  for  thee,  Lord,  to  work :  for  they 
have  made  void  thy  law."   As  much  as 


to  say,  men  have  now  exceeded  the 
bounds  prescribed  to  long-suffering ; 
they  have  outrun  the  limits  of  grace  ; 
and  now,  therefore,  God  must  inter- 
fere, vindicate  his  own  honor,  and  re- 
press the  swellings  of  unrighteousness. 

This,  then,  is  the  first  truth  present- 
ed by  our  text, — that  it  is  possible  to 
go  so  far  in  disobedience  that  it  will 
be  necessary  for  God  to  interpose  in 
vengeance,  and  visibly  withstand  men's 
impiety.  But  what  effect  will  be  pro- 
duced on  a  truly  righteous  man  by  this 
extraordinary  prevalence  of  iniquity  ? 
Will  he  be  carried  away  by  the  cur- 
rent of  evin  Will  he  be  tempted,  by 
the  universal  scorn  which  he  sees 
thrown  on  God's  law,  to  think  slight- 
ingly of  it  himself,  and  give  it  less  of 
his  reverence  and  attachment  1  On  the 
contrary,  this  law  becomes  more  pre- 
cious in  David's  sight,  in  proportion  as 
he  felt  that  it  was  so  despised  and  set 
aside,  that  the  time  for  God  to  work 
had  arrived.  You  observe  that  the 
verses  are  connected  by  the  word 
"  therefore."  "  They  have  made  void 
thy  law."  What  then  1  is  that  law  less 
esteemed  and  less  prized  by  myself? 
Quite  the  reverse  ;  "  they  have  made 
void  thy  law;  therefore  I  love  thy  com- 
mandments above  gold,  yea,  above  fine 
gold."  There  is  much  that  deserves 
our  closest  attention  in  this  connection 
between  the  verses.  It  is  a  high  point 
of  holiness  which  that  man  has  reach- 
ed, whose  love  of  God's  commandments 
grows  with  the  contempt  which  all 
around  him  put  on  these  command- 
ments. This,  then,  is  the  second  truth 
presented  by  our  text, — that  there  is 
greater  reason  than  ever  for  our  prizing 
God's  law,  if  the  times  should  be  those 
in  which  that  law  is  made  void.  So 
that  there  are  two  great  principles 
which  must  successively  engage  our 
attention  in  meditating  on  the  words 
which  form  our  subject  of  address. 
The  first  is,  that  there  is  a  point  in  hu- 
man iniquity  at  which  it  is  necessary 
that  God  should  interfere  ;  the  second, 
that,  when  this  point  is  reached,  the 
righteous  are  more  than  ever  bound  to 
prize  and  love  the  law  of  the  Lord.  It 
will  be  our  endeavor  to  set  these  prin- 
ciples clearly  before  you,  and  to  exam- 
ine them  in  their  several  bearings  and 
results. 

Now,  in  one  of  those  visions  which 


THROUGH   THE   MAKING    VOID    THE    LAW. 


261 


God  vouchsafed  to  the  patriarch  Abra- 
ham, the  land  of  Canaan  was  promised 
to  his  posterity,  but  a  distant  time  fix- 
ed for  their  taking  possession.  Tlie 
reason  given  why  centuries  must  elapse 
ere  they  could  enter  on  the  inheritance, 
is  every  way  remarkable.  ''  In  the 
fourth  generation  they  shall  come  hith- 
er again  ;  for  the  iniquity  of  the  Amo- 
rites  is  not  full."  We  may  understand 
the  Amorites  to  be  put  here  generally 
for  the  inhabitants  of  Canaan,  whose 
iniquities  were  gradually  bringing  on 
their  expulsion  and  extermination.  And 
though  even  these  inhabitants  might 
have  been  conspicuous  in  idolatry  and 
impiety,  they  had  not,  it  appears,  yet 
reached  that  measure  of  guiltiness 
which  was  to  mark  them  out  for  ven- 
geance. "  The  iniquity  of  the  Amo- 
rites," saith  God,  "  is  not  yet  full ;  and, 
therefore,  I  cannot  yet  give  command 
for  their  destruction, — nay,  it  will  not 
be  until  the  fourth  generation  that  I 
can  dispossess  them  to  make  room  for 
my  people."  It  is  evident,  from  this 
instance,  that  in  the  exercise  of  his 
long-suffering,  God  allows  nations  a 
certain  period  of  probation,  but  that 
there  is  a  point  up  to  Avhich,  if  they 
accumulate  iniquity,  they  can  expect 
nothing  but  an  outbreak  of  indignation 
and  punishment.  It  was  not  yet  time 
for  God  to  work,  inasmuch  as  the 
Amorites,  though  disobedient  to  his 
law,  had  not  yet  gone  the  length  of 
making  it  void.  But  that  time  would 
arrive.  The  Amorites  would  advance 
from  one  degree  of  sinfulness  to  ano- 
ther, and  the  children  would  but  add 
to  the  burden  of  misdoing  entailed  on 
them  by  profligate  fathers.  Then  would 
be  the  time  for  God  to  work  ;  and  then 
would  the  Almighty  arise  in  his  fury, 
and  prove,  by  the  vehemence  of  his 
dealings,  that  though  slow  to  anger,  he 
will  not  finally  acquit  the  wicked.  We 
need  not  remind  you  how  fearfully  this 
truth  was  exemplified  in  the  instance  of 
the  Amorites.  The  terrible  judgments 
at  length  inflicted  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  the  Israelites  are  known 
to  all,  and  show  clearly  that  punish- 
ment is  not  the  less  sure  because  long 
delayed. 

You  have  the  same  truth  depicted 
in  the  case  of  the  Jews.  You  find 
Christ,  in  one  of  these  tremendous  de- 
nunciations, which  are  the  more  awful, 


because  found  on  the  lips  of  him,  who, 
"  when  he  was  reviled,  reviled  not  a- 
gain,"  declaring  that  the  blood  of  all 
the  prophets  which  had  been  shed  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  should  be 
required  of  the  nation  he  addressed. 
The  representation  is  here  the  same  as 
in  the  instance  of  the  Amorites.  The 
Jews  had  been  long  borne  with  ;  and 
God,  though  often  provoked  by  their 
impieties  to  inflict  lesser  punishments, 
had  not  yet  gone  the  length  of  casting 
them  off  as  a  nation.  But  their  wicked- 
ness was  not  forgotten  nor  overlooked, 
because  yet  unvisited  with  the  extreme 
of  indignation.  Each  century  of  pro- 
fligacy had  only  treasured  iip  wrath  j 
and  Christ  bids  the  abandoned  of  his 
own  day  fill  up  the  measure  of  their  fa- 
thers, that  it  might  at  last  be  time  for 
God  to  work.  And  when  the  time 
came,  and  the  iniquity  was  full,  then 
it  appeared  that  it  is  a  tremendous 
thing  to  have  worn  out  divine  patience ; 
for  wrath  fell  so  signally  and  so  fiercely 
on  the  Jews,  that  their  miseries  ex- 
ceeded those  which  their  ancestors  had 
dealt  to  the  Amorites. 

These  instances — and  it  were  easy  to 
adduce  more — sufficiently  prove  that 
God  keeps  what  we  may  call  a  reckon- 
ing with  nations,  and  that  there  is  a 
sum  total  of  guilt — though  it  be  out  of 
our  power  to  define  the  amount — which 
he  allows  not  to  be  passed  ;  but  which, 
when  reached,  draws  down  upon  the 
land  the  long-deferred  vengeance.  We 
say  that  it  is  out  of  our  power  to  de- 
fine the  amount,  for  we  know  not  pre- 
cisely that  point  in  iniquity  at  which  it 
may  be  said  that  God's  law  is  made 
void.  But  it  is  comparatively  unim- 
portant that  we  ascertain  the  exact 
amount  of  guilt  which  becomes  such  a 
mill-stone  round  the  neck  of  a  people, 
that  they  are  dragged  into  the  depths 
of  disaster  and  wretchedness.  It  is 
suflicient  to  know  that  God  takes  ac- 
count of  what  is  done  on  the  earth,  and 
that  he  charges  on  one  generation  the 
crimes  of  a  preceding.  It  is  enough 
for  all  practical  purposes,  that  Ave  can 
prove  there  are  limits  to  the  forbear- 
ance of  the  Almighty;  and  that  conse- 
quently it  is  either  ignorance  or  in- 
sanity which  would  count  on  impunity, 
because  there  is  delay.  We  say  that 
this  is  enough ;  for  this  should  make 
every  true  lover  of  his  country  eager 


THE    DIVINE    PATIENCE    EXHAUSTED 


to  diminish  the  sum-total  of  national 
guiltiness.  It  matters  nothing  whether 
we  can  tell,  in  any  given  instance,  by 
how  many  fractions  the  sum  is  yet  be- 
low that  amount  at  which  it  must  be 
met  by  commensurate  vengeance.  The 
grand  thing  is,  that  we  ascertain  a 
principle  in  the  Divine  dealings,  the 
principle  that  there  is  a  register  kept 
of  the  impieties  of  a  land,  and  that,  too, 
with  the  unerring  accuracy  of  the  Om- 
niscient ;  and  that  though,  as  the  figures 
go  on  rapidly  accumulating,  God  may 
bear  with  the  land,  and  ply  it  with  calls 
to  repentance  and  overtures  of  forgive- 
ness, yet  Avhen  those  figures  present  a 
certain  array,  they  serve  as  a  signal  to 
the  ministry  of  wrath,  and  mark  that 
there  are  no  sands  left  in  the  glass  of 
Divine  patience.  And  when  we  have 
determined  this  principle,  how  clear, 
how  imperative,  the  duty  of  laboring  to 
strike  off  some  figures,  and  thus  to  gain 
further  respite  for  a  country  whose  re- 
gister may  be  fast  approaching  the  fa- 
tal amount.  We  know  of  a  land  for 
which  God  hath  done  more  than  for 
any  other  on  which  the  sun  shines,  as 
he  makes  the  circuit  of  the  globe.  It 
is  a  land  which  hath  been  marvellously 
preserved  from  the  incursions  of  ene- 
mies ;  and  whose  valleys,  whilst  the  rest 
of  the  earth  was  turned  into  one  vast 
battle-plain,  never  echoed  Avith  the  toc- 
sin of  war.  It  is  a  land  which,  though 
inconsiderable  in  itself,  has  been  raised 
to  a  greatness  unequalled  among  na- 
tions, whose  fame  is  on  every  shore, 
whose  fleets  on  every  sea,  and  whose 
resources  have  seemed  so  to  grow 
wath  the  demand,  that  every  trial  has  but 
developed  the  unsuspected  strength. 
And  it  is  little  that  this  land,  by  prow- 
ess in  arms,  and  wisdom  in  debate,  has 
won  itself  a  name  of  the  mightiest  re- 
nown, subdued  kingdoms,  planted  colo- 
nies, and  gathered  into  its  harbors  the 
commerce  of  the  world.  We  know  yet 
greater  things  of  this  land.  We  know 
that  Christianity,  in  all  its  purity,  is 
publicly  taught  as  the  religion  of  the 
land ;  that  in  its  churches  is  proclaim- 
ed the  life-giving  doctrine  of  the  "  one 
Mediator  between  God  and  man  ;"  and 
that  its  civil  institutions  have  all  that 
beauty,  and  all  that  expansivenes,  which 
nothing  but  the  Gospel  of  Christ  was 
ever  yet  able  to  produce  or  preserve. 
But  we  have  our  fears — oh,  more  than 


our  fears, — regard  of  this  land,  that, 
whilst  it  has  thus  been  the  recipient  of 
unrivalled  mercies,  whilst  Providence 
has  watched  over  it,  and  shielded  it, 
and  poured  upon  it  all  that  w^as  choicest 
in  the  treasure-house  of  heaven,  there 
have  been  an  ingratitude,  and  a  con- 
tempt of  the  Benefactor,  and  a  grow- 
ing distaste  for  religion,  and  a  pride, 
and  a  covetousness,  and  a  luxury,  which 
have  written  many  and  large  figures  in 
the  register  which  God  keeps  of  na- 
tions ;  so  that,  though  the  land  is  still 
borne  with,  yea,  abundantly  blessed, 
it  has  made  vast  approaches  towards 
that  fulness  of  iniquity  which  the  Amo- 
rite  reached,  and  which  the  Israelites 
reached,  but  reached  only  to  perish. 
God  forbid  that  we  should  say  of  the 
land  to  which  we  have  referred,  what- 
ever its  sins,  that  as  yet  it  hath  made 
void  the  law  of  its  Maker.  We  hope 
that  there  is  yet  such  vigor  in  its  piety 
as  will  give  fixedness  to  what  is  vener- 
able and  precious  in  its  institutions. 
But  we  are  sure  that  with  the  purity  of 
its  Christianity  must  stand  or  fall  the 
majesty  of  its  empire.  We  are  sure 
that  it  is,  as  the  home  of  protestantism, 
the  centre  of  truth ;  that  God  hath 
honored  and  upheld  the  land  of  which 
we  speak ;  and  that  the  rapid  way  of 
multiplying  the  figures,  which  may  al- 
ready be  portentous  in  its  account, 
would  be  the  surrendering  its  protes- 
tantism, and  the  giving,  in  any  way, 
countenance  to  popery.  Oh,  if  it  could 
ever  come  to  pass,  that,  acting  on  the 
principle  of  a  short-sighted  policy,  the 
xulers  of  the  land  in  question  should 
restore  his  lost  ascendancy  to  the  man 
of  sin,  and  take  under  the  care  and  pro- 
tection of  the  state  that  religion  which 
prophecy  has  unequivocally  denounced, 
and  in  writing  against  which  a  pious 
ancestry  met  death  in  its  most  terrible 
shapes ;  then,  indeed,  may  we  think, 
the  measure  of  the  guilt  would  be  full ; 
then,  in  the  national  apostacy  might  be 
read  the  advance  of  national  ruin — yea 
then,  we  believe — the  protest  of  a  wit- 
ness for  truth  being  no  longer  given — 
there  would  be  heard  a  voice,  issuing 
from  the  graves  of  martyrs  and  confes- 
sors with  which  the  land  is  covered, 
and  from  the  souls  wdiich  St.  John  saw 
beneath  the  altar  when  the  fifth  seal 
was  opened,  "  that  were  slain  for  the 
word  of  God,  and  for  the  testimony 


THROUGH   THE   MAKING   VOID   THE   LAW. 


263 


which  they  held  ;"  and  these  would  be 
the  words  which  the  voice  would  ut- 
ter:  "It  is  time  for  thee,  Lord,  to 
work :  for  they  have  made  void  thy 
law." 

But  we  do  not  suppose  that  these 
words  should  be  interpreted  with  refe- 
rence only  to  that  point  in  national 
guilt  at  which  God  is  moved  to  inter- 
fere in  vengeance.  Vengeance  is  one 
way  in  which  God  works ;  but  it  is  a 
Avay  of  which  we  may  declare,  that  it 
is  forced  upon  God,  and  not  resorted 
to  without  the  greatest  reluctance.  We 
find  these  expressions  in  the  prophe- 
cies of  Isaiah:  "The  Lord  shall  rise 
up  as  in  Mount  Perazim,  he  shall  be 
wroth  as  in  the  valley  of  Gibeon,  that 
he  may  do  his  work,  his  strange  work, 
and  bring  to  pass  his  act,  his  strange 
act."  You  observe,  the  work  of  wrath 
is  a  strange  work,  and  the  act  of  pun- 
ishment is  a  strange  act.  God  strikes, 
but  the  strikino-  might  almost  be  decla- 
red  foreign  to  his  nature  ;  it  is  neces- 
sary for  the  vindication  of  his  attri- 
butes, but  can  hardly  be  said  to  be 
congenial  with  them.  There  is  much  in 
this  to  encourage  the  penitent,  but  not 
the  presumptuous.  God  may  be  loth  to 
punish,  but  nevertheless  he  will  pun- 
ish; and  I  am  only  impressed  with  a 
greater  sense  of  the  tremendousness 
of  divine  wrath,  when  I  find  that  the 
bringing  it  into  act  is  an  effort  even  to 
the  Omnipotent.  How  weighty  must 
that  be  which  God  himself  has  diffi- 
culty in  raising ! 

There  are,  however,  other  ways  in 
which  God  works,  when  moved  by  the 
making  void  of  his  law.  It  is  curious 
and  interesting  to  observe  how  God, 
from  the  first,  has  been  mindful  of  what 
passes  on  the  earth,  and  how  he  has  in- 
terposed just  when  a  crisis  has  demand- 
ed the  interposition.  When  our  first 
parents  fell,  his  law  was  emphatically 
made  void  ;  and  then  there  appearing 
no  alternative  to  the  destruction  of  our 
race,  it  was  time  for  God  to  work ;  the 
exigence  could  be  met  by  nothing  but 
a  divine  interference,  and  God  gra- 
ciously worked  as  a  deliverer.  And 
afterwards  the  notices  of  traditional  re- 
ligion were  soon  so  obscured  and  weak- 
ened, that  there  was  danger  of  all  re- 
membrance of  its  Maker  perishing  from 
the  globe.  The  law  was  so  made  void, 
and  wickedness  had  reached  such  a 


height,  that  it  was  time  for  God  to 
work  in  vengeance  ;  and  accordingly 
he  brought  a  flood  upon  the  earth,  and 
swept  away  thousands  of  the  ungodly. 
But  whilst  working  in  vengeance,  he 
worked  also  in  mercy,  and,  saving  Noah 
and  his  family,  provided  that  the  world 
should  be  re-peopled,  and  that  there 
should  be  myriads  for  his  Son  to  re- 
deem. And  then,  if  he  had  left  the  earth 
to  itself,  it  would  have  been  quickly 
overspread  with  idolatry,  and  all  flesh 
have  become  corrupt  as  it  was  before 
the  flood.  But  here  again  it  was  time 
for  God  to  work,  and  he  set  apart  one 
family  for  himself,  and  through  its  in- 
strumentality preserved  mankind  from 
total  degeneracy,  until  the  period  of 
the  incarnation  arrived.  It  may  be  af- 
firmed also,  that  this  period  was  one 
at  which  the  necessity  for  divine  inter- 
ference had  become  strongly  marked. 
We  learn  from  St.  Paul,  that,  "  after 
that,  in  the  wisdom  of  God,  the  Avorld 
by  wisdom  knew  not  God,  it  pleased 
God,  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching, 
to  save  them  that  believe."  So  that  it 
appears  that,  through  successive  cen- 
turies of  heathenism,  there  had  been 
carried  on  an  experiment,  not  for  the 
satisfaction  of  God,  who  knows  the 
end  from  the  beginning,  but  for  the 
conviction  of  men  who  are  prone  to 
magnify  their  powers;  and  that  the  ob- 
ject of  this  experiment  had  been  the 
ascertaining  whether,  by  its  own  wis- 
dom, the  world  could  acquire  a  sound 
knowledge  of  its  Maker.  And  the  apos- 
tle declares  that,  when  Christ  came, 
the  experiment  had  been  fully  made, 
and  that  its  result  was  completely 
against  the  boasted  strength  of  reason. 
So  that  here  again  it  was  time  for  God 
to  work.  Reason  had  proved  itself 
quite  incompetent  to  the  producing 
right  notions  of  God,  and  therefore  a 
just  estimate  of  his  law;  and  now,  then, 
the  law  being  altogether  made  void,  it 
was  time  for  God  to  work  through  a 
new  revelation  of  himself.  And  cer- 
tainly you  can  have  little  difficulty  in 
determining  for  yourselves,  that,  in  re- 
gard of  the  christian  church,  God  has 
acted  on  the  principle  laid  down  in  our 
text.  How  often  has  he  allowed  mat- 
ters to  come,  as  it  were,  to  an  extre- 
mity, in  order  that  there  might  be  a 
clear  need  of  his  interference,  and  then 
has  he  arisen  mightily  to  the  succor  of 


264 


THE    DIVINE    PATIENCE    EXHAUSTED 


the  perishing.  In  earlier  days  he  per- 
mitted persecution  to  make  great  havoc 
with  the  church,  so  that  Satan  seemed 
often  on  the  point  of  effecting  the  ex- 
tirpation of  Christianity.  But  it  was 
soon  found  that  a  season  of  depression 
ushered  in  one  of  triumph,  and  that  the 
church  was  brought  low,  that  she  might 
be  more  signally  exalted.  And  when 
we  survey  Christianity,  in  its  first  strug- 
gles with  heathenism,  reduced  often  to 
so  languid  a  condition  that  there  seem- 
ed nothing  to  be  looked  for  but  its  to- 
tal extinction,  and  then  suddenly  rising 
in  greater  brilliancy  and  purity,  we  can 
only  say  that  God  thereby  proved  that 
he  reserves  his  gracious  interpositions 
for  exigencies  when  their  necessity 
cannot  be  denied,  and  that  he  acts  on 
the  principle,  that,  when  men  make 
void  his  law,  then  it  is  time  for  him  to 
work. 

Neither  is  there  any  cause  for  sur- 
prise that  such  should  be  a  principle 
in  the  divine  dispensations.  You  must 
own  that  when,  on  all  human  calcula- 
tions, the  case  is  desperate,  the  inter- 
ference of  God  will  be  more  distinctly 
recognized,  and  the  likelihood  is  less 
of  his  being  robbed  of  the  honor  due 
unto  his  name.  Hence  it  might  be  ex- 
pected that  God  would  choose  those 
times  for  interposition  at  which  it  was 
most  evident  that  no  power  but  a  di- 
vine could  suffice,  in  order  to  counter- 
act that  proneness,  of  which  the  best 
must  be  conscious,  to  ascribe  to  se- 
cond causes  what  should  be  referred 
only  to  the  first.  We  may  add  to  this, 
that,  in  the  hour  of  the  church's  de- 
pression and  danger,  there  will  be 
more  fervent  prayer  on  her  behalf 
from  the  yet  faithful  remnant ;  and  we 
know  that  God  delights  to  answer  the 
earnest  supplications  of  his  people. 
And  it  is  under  this  point  of  view  that 
our  text  should  encourage  us,  as  much 
as  it  alarms  others.  We  have  shown 
you  that  there  is  an  amount  of  guilti- 
ness, defined  by  the  making  void  of 
God's  law,  which  provokes  the  Al- 
mighty to  come  forth  as  an  avenger. 
But  we  now  show  you  that  it  is  not 
only  as  an  avenger,  but  equally  as  a 
protector,  that  God  appears  in  days 
when  his  law  is  made  void  upon  earth. 
These  are  days  when  the  righteous 
will  be  stirred  by  the  aboundings  of 
iniquity  to  greater  diligence  in  prayer  j 


and  God  has  promised  that  he  will 
"avenge  his  own  elect  which  cry  day 
and  night  unto  him,  though  he  bear 
long  with  them,"  You  see,  then,  what 
your  duty  is,  if  your  lot  be  cast  in 
times  when  there  seems  danger  that 
truth  will  be  overborne  by  falsehood. 
Our  text  instructs  you  as  to  the  form 
into  which  to  shape  your  petitions. 
We  have  spoken  already  of  a  land 
over  which,  as  the  depository  of  the 
pure  religion  of  Christ,  has  been  spread 
for  long  years  the  shield  of  divine  fa- 
vor. We  have  spoken  of  the  desperate 
jeopardy  in  which  that  land  would  be 
placed,  if  its  legislature  should  so  ab- 
jure the  principles  of  protestantism  as 
to  give  countenance  and  support  to 
the  Roman  apostacy.  It  would  be  time 
for  God  to  work  in  indignation  and 
vengeance,  if  a  people,  whom  he  hath 
marvellously  delivered  from  the  bon- 
dage of  popery,  and  whom  he  strength- 
ened to  throw  off  a  yoke  which  had 
kept  down  their  immortality,  should 
give  vigor,  by  any  national  act,  to  the 
corrupt  faith  of  Rome,  and  thus  reani- 
mate the  tyranny  Avhich  waits  but  a 
touch,  and  it  will  start  again  into  des- 
potism. But  we  know  what  would  be 
the  business  of  all  the  righteous  in  that 
land,  if  they  saw  signs  of  the  approach 
of  such  peril.  We  know  that  it  would 
not  become  them  to  sit  in  calm  expec- 
tation of  the  ruin,  comforting  them- 
selves with  the  belief  that  God  would 
shelter  his  own  people  in  the  day  of 
indignation.  It  would  be  their  business 
to  recall  the  memory  of  former  deliv- 
erances, and  to  bear  in  mind  how  God 
has  always  chosen  extremities  when 
there  seemed  least  hope  that  ruin 
would  be  averted,  for  the  manifesta- 
tions of  his  care  over  his  church.  It 
would  be  their  business  to  remember, 
and  to  act  on  the  remembrance,  that 
the  time  for  God,  in  every  sense,  to 
work,  is  the  time  at  which  men  are 
making  void  his  law.  And  we  have  a 
confidence  in  "  the  effectual  fervent 
prayer  of  a  righteous  man,"  which  for- 
bids our  despairing  of  any  land,  within 
whose  confines  are  yet  found  the  be- 
lieving and  prayerful.  If  the  presence 
of  ten  righteous  would  have  turned 
away  the  fire  and  brimstone  from  the 
guilty  cities  of  the  plain,  we  shall  not 
reckon  the  doom  of  any  country  sealed, 
so  lona:  as  we  know  that  it  is  not  des- 


THROUGH    THE    MAKING    VOID    THE    LAW. 


265 


titute  of  the  leaven   of  godliness,   but 
that  there  are  among  its  inhabitants  who 
view,  in  a  season  of  danger,  a  season 
when  they  may  go,  with  special  confi- 
dence,   to  the   uiercy-scat,  and  plead, 
"  It  is  time   for  thee,  Lord,  to  work." 
The   hearts    of   statesmen   are   in   the 
hands  of  God,  and  the  passions  of  the 
turbulent  and  disaffected  are  under  his 
governance,  and  the  designs  of  the  ene- 
mies of  his  church  are  all  subject  to 
his  over-ruling  providence  ;  and  prayer 
moves  the  arm  which  marshals  stars, 
and  calms  the  great  deep,  and  directs 
the  motions  of  disordered  wills.    Why, 
then,  should  we  despair  for  a  land,  un- 
less   assured    that   patriotism    has  be^ 
come   dissociated  from  righteousness, 
and  that  they,  whose  privilege  it  is  to 
have  access  to  the  Father  through  the 
Mediator,  Christ,  and  to  whom  the  pro- 
mise has   been  made    by   the    Savior, 
"  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  the  Father 
in  my  name,  he  will  give  it  you,"  have 
so  far  turned  traitors  as  to  remember 
rot  their  country  in  their  petitions  ?  If, 
indeed,  in  the  land  of  which   we  have 
spoken,  a  protestant  government  were 
so  to   sacrifice   every  principle   which 
enters  into  its  constitution,  as  to  make 
provision  for  the  propagation  of  papal 
falsehood  and  delusion,  we  might  justly 
fear  that  the  time  for  intercession  had 
passed,  and  that  God  must  hearken  to 
the  voice  pealing  forth  from  the  sepul- 
chres of  martyred  thousands,  and  from 
the  souls  beneath  the  altar,  telling  him 
the  time  was  come  for  him  to  work  as 
an  avenger.    But  so  long,  at  least,  as 
the    land  held   fast    its  protestantism, 
and  there  was  only  the  threatening  of 
its  being  surrendered,  we   should  feel 
that  a  vast  responsibility  was  laid  upon 
the  men  of  praj-er,  and  upon  the  women 
of  prayer,  throughout  that  land.    Ay, 
and  we  should  hope  that  the  days  of 
its  happiness  and    its  greatness  were 
not    numbered,    and     that    measures, 
fraught  with    its    desolation,    because 
involving  the  compromise  of  its  Chris- 
tianity,  would   never  be  permitted  to 
be  enacted  and  enforced,  if  vv'e  knew 
that  these  men  and  these  women  were 
urgent  in  the  business  of  supplication, 
and  that  from  beneath  every  roof  which 
gave  shelter  to  God-fearing  individuals, 
in  the  city,  in  the  village,  on  the  moun- 
tain, in  the  valley,  was  issuing  the  crj% 
"  It  is  time  for  thee,  Lord,  to  work  as 


a  Protector,  for  they  are  making  void 
thy  law." 

Now  we  are  so  pressed  by  the  re- 
mainder of  our  great  subject  of  dis- 
course, that  we  are  compelled  to  pass 
by  much  on  which  we  wish  to  enlarge. 
It  is  evident  that  liie  portion  of  our 
text,  on  which  we  have  hitherto  spo- 
ken, admits  of  an  individual,  as  well 
as  a  national,  application.  We  might 
speak  to  you  of  limits  to  the  divine 
forbearance,  when  any  one  amongst 
ourselves  is  regarded  as  the  object  of 
its  exercise  5  and  show  you,  conse- 
quently, the  madness  of  our  presuming 
on  long-sufTering,  as  though  it  could 
not  be  exhausted.  We  might  enlarge 
also  on  the  personal  encouragement 
which  the  text  gives  to  those  who  put 
trust  in  God  j  inasmuch  as  we  perceive 
that  the  being  brought  into  circumstan- 
ces of  unusual  danger  and  distress,  in 
place  of  causing  despondency,  should 
give  occasion  for  greater  hope,  the 
hour  of  special  tribulation  being  ordi- 
narily chosen  by  God  as  the  hour  of 
his  choicest  manifestations. 

We  must,  however,  refer  these  con- 
siderations to  your  private  meditations, 
though  it  will  be  evident  to  those  who 
trace  carefully  the  connection  of  the 
several  parts  of  our  discourse,  that 
they  enter,  in  a  degree,  into  what  has 
yet  to  be  advanced. 

The  second  great  truth  presented  by 
our  text,  and  which  we  have  now  to 
examine,  is  that,  when  the  point  in  ini- 
quity is  reached  at  which  God's  inter- 
ference becomes  necessary,  the  righ- 
teous are  more  than  ever  bound  to 
prize  and  love  the  law  of  the  Lord. 
We  derive  this  truth,  as  we  have  be- 
fore said,  from  the  connection  between 
the  verses.  When  David  has  declared 
that  it  is  time  for  God  to  work,  since  the 
law  was  made  void,'-he  adds,  "There- 
fore I  love  thy  commandments  above 
gold,  yea,  above  fine  gold," — clearly 
implying,  that  the  contempt  put  on 
God's  law  was  an  additional  motive  to 
his  giving  that  law  his  esteem  and  af- 
fection. And  it  is  of  great  importance 
we  determine  on  what  principles  David 
proceeded  in  making  this  decision,  or 
what  reasons  were  on  his  side  when 
he  valued  the  commandments,  because 
made  void  by  others.  It  cannot  be  de- 
nied, as  we  have  already  intimated, 
that  it  is  a  high  point  in  holiness  which 
34- 


266 


THE    DIVINE    PATIENCE    EXHAUSTED 


the  Psalmist  is  hereby  proved  to  have 
reached.  We  must  own,  in  respect  of 
ourselves,  that  we  find  it  hard  to  con- 
fess Christ,  and  declare  ourselves  his 
followers,  in  the  face  of  a  vehement 
and  growing  opposition. 

In  sketching  the  characteristics  and 
occurrences  which  should  mark  the  ap- 
proach of  the  second  advent,  the  Sa- 
vior uttered  this  prediction.  "And  be- 
cause iniquity  shall  abound,  the  love  of 
many  shall  wax  cold."  He  knew  what 
a  paralyzing  and  deadening  influence 
would  be  exerted  over  piety  by  multi- 
plied wickedness,  and  how  sickly  and 
dwarfish,  for  the  most  part,  would 
Christianity  become,  when  the  soil  and 
the  atmosphere  were  saturated  with 
unrighteousness.  And  the  event  has 
but  too  faithfully  borne  out  the  predic- 
tion. It  is  at  all  times  difficult  to  hold 
fast  the  christian  profession.  But  the 
difficulty  is  a  hundred-fold  augmented, 
when  it  must  be  held  fast  with  few  or 
none  to  keep  us  in  countenance,  and 
when  to  dare  to  be  religious  is  to  dare 
the  opposition  of  a  neighborhood.  And 
it  is  but  too  possible  that  much  of  the 
Christianity  which  passes  muster  in  our 
own  day,  and  wins  itself  a  reputation 
for  soundness  and  stanchness,  is  in- 
debted for  its  very  existence  to  the 
absence  of  persecution ;  and  that,  if 
there  came  days  in  which  God's  law 
was  made  void,  and  the  church  was 
sifted  by  fiery  trial,  a  great  proportion 
of  what  appears  genuine  and  steadfast 
would  prove  its  hollowness  by  defec- 
tion, in  place  of  being  strengthened 
and  confirmed  by  opposition. 

But  however  this  be,  we  may  declare 
of  the  truly  religious,  that  they  have 
increased  cause  for  prizing  and  adher- 
ing to  God's  law,  if  the  days  in  which 
they  live  be  days  in  which  iniquity  is 
more  than  ordinarily  prevalent.  It  is 
too  obvious,  in  the  first  place,  to  be 
overlooked,  that,  in  days  such  as  these, 
there  is  the  very  finest  opportunity  of 
giving  honor  to  God.  To  love  his  com- 
mandments above  gold,  whilst  others 
count  them  but  dross-,  is  to  display  a 
noble  zeal  for  his  glory,  and  to  appear  | 
as  the  champions  of  his  cause,  when 
that  cause  is  on  the  point  of  being  uni-  j 
versaliy  deserted.  The  promise  more- 
over runs,  "Them  that  honor  ne,  1 
will  honor  ;"  and  the  season,  therefore,  j 
ia  which  the  greatest  honor  may  be 


given  to  God,  is  that  also  in  which 
the  most  of  future  glory  may  be  se- 
cured by  the  righteous^.  What  then, 
the  Psalmist  seems  to  ask — would  you 
have  me  less  fervent  in  attachment  to 
God's  law,  because  the  making  void  of 
that  law  has  rendered  it  a  time  for  God 
to  worki  What,  shall  I  choose  that 
moment  for  turning  traitor  when  God 
will  be  most  glorified,  and  myself  most 
advantaged,  by  loyalty'?  What,  relax 
in  devotedness,  just  when,  by  main- 
taining my  allegiance,  I  may  bear  the 
noblest  testimony,  and  gain  the  high- 
est recompense  1  Oh,  where  the  heart 
has  been  given  to  God,  and  fixed  orj 
the  glories  of  heaven,  there  should  be 
a  feeling  that  days,  in  which  religion  is 
most  decried  and  derided,  are  days  in 
which  zeal  should  be  warmest,  and  pro- 
fession most  unflinching.  To  adhere 
boldly  to  the  cause  of  righteousness, 
when  almost  solitary  in  adherence,  is 
to  fight  the  battle  when  champions  are 
most  needed,  and  when  therefore  vic- 
tory will  be  most  triumphant.  Let  then, 
saith  the  Psalmist,  the  times  be  times 
of  universal  defection  from  godliness 
— I  will  gather  warmth  from  the  cold- 
ness of  others,  courage  from  their 
cowardice,  loyalty  from  their  treason. 
Indeed,  as  I  gaze  on  what  is  passing 
around  me,  I  cannot  but  observe  that 
thy  law,  0  God,  is  made  void,  and  that 
it  is  therefore  time  for  thee  to  work. 
But  I  am  not  on  this  account  shaken  in 
attachment  to  thy  service.  On  the  con- 
trary, thy  law  seems  to  me  more  pre- 
cious than  ever,  for  in  now  keeping 
thy  commandments  I  can  give  thee 
greater  glory,  and  find  greater  reward. 
What  then  !  it  may  be  that  they  have 
made  void  tliy  law;  but  from  my  heart 
I  can  say,  "  Therefore,  on  that  very 
account,  I  love  thy  commandments 
above  gold,  yea,  above  fine  gold." 

It  may  be  said,  however,  that  though 
we  thus  give  a  reason  why  David  should 
have  been  more  earnest  in  holding  fast 
his  profession,  we  scarcely  touch  the 
point  Avhy  the  commandments  them- 
selves should  have  been  more  precious 
in  his  sight.  But  it  is  not  difficult  to 
explain  the  connection  between  the 
verses,  even  if  it  be  simply  the  love  of 
God's  law  which  we  suppose  increas- 
ed by  the  prevalence  of  impiety.  We 
know,  beyond  all  peradventure,  that 
the  only  remedy  for  the  multiplied  dis- 


THROUGH    THE    MAKING    VOID    THE    LAW. 


267 


orders  of  this  creation  is  to  be  found 
in  conformity  to  the  revealed  will  of' 
God.    We  are  sure,  whatever  schemes 
may  be  devised  for  the  amelioration  of , 
human  condition,  that  the  happiness  of 
a  people  is  closely  bound  up  with  its 
righteousness,  and  that  the  greater  the  ' 
departure   from   God   the   greater   the 
misery  introduced  into  its  families.    It  j 
is  no  unwarranted  assertion,  but  one 
which  will  stand  every  test  to  which  j 
it   can  fairly  be  brought,  that  the  de-  j 
cline   of   a   nation's    prosperity  keeps  j 
pace  with  the  decline  of  its  piety,  and  ; 
that  in  banishing  true  religion  you  ban-  \ 
ish  the  chief  elements  of  its  greatness 
and  security.  j 

And  what  is  the  condition  of  a  land,  | 
when  its  inhabitants  have  literally  made  '. 
void  God's  law]  The  experiment  was 
tried  in  the  heart  of  civilized  Europe  ; 
and  we  all  know  what  fearful  scenes 
were  enacted  on  the  stage  of  revolu- 
tionized France,  when  atheism  was  the 
only  creed  which  the  nation  would  pro- 
fess. We  have  no  instance  in  history 
of  a  people  throwing  equal  scorn  on 
their  Creator,  and  neither  have  we 
any  of  a  people  being  plunged  in  equal 
depths  of  misery.  There  was  then  giv- 
en a  demonstration,  never  to  be  forgot- 
ten, that  to  throw  off  the  restraints  of 
religion  is  to  proclaim  the  carnival  of 
anarchy  and  bloodshed  ;  and  that  the 
getting  quit  of  the  fear  of  God  is  the 
surest  mode  of  undermining  govern- 
ment, invading  the  rights  of  property, 
and  turning  a  civilized  people  into  a 
horde  of  barbarians  and  assassins.  But 
if  such  be  the  consequences  of  making 
void  God's  law,  Avhat  effect  will  be 
wrought  upon  the  few  by  whom  that 
law  is  yet  reverenced  and  prized  ?  Cer- 
tainly, not  that  they  will  love  the  law 
less,  but  rather  that  they  will  love  it 
more.  If  I  saw  thousands  writhing"  in 
incurable  agony,  and  could  trace  the 
tremendous  disease  to  the  gradual  dis- 
use, and,  at  length,  final  rejection  of  a 
medicine,  beyond  all  doubt  that  medi- 
cine would  appear  to  me  more  precious 
than  ever ;  and  it  would  be  from  the 
throwing  away  of  this  medicine  that  I 
best  learnt  its  value.  In  like  manner, 
if  I  can  see  that  the  making  void  God's 
law  is  the  most  effectual  mode  of  cov- 
ering a  land  with  wretchedness,  un- 
questionably it  is  in  the  being  made 
void  that  this  law  displays  its  claims  to 


my  attachment.    And  if,  therefore,  we 
lived  in  times  when  a  mighty  infidelity 
was  pervading  our  cities  and  our  vil- 
lages, and  men  werl  advancing  by  ra- 
pid strides  towards  an  open  contempt, 
or  denial  of  God  ;  the  divine  law,  if  we 
had  ever  learnt  to  prize  it,  would  com- 
mend itself  increasingly  to  our  affec- 
tions, as   impiety  went   onward  to  its 
consummation.    Vv^e  should  more  and 
more  recognize  the  power  of  this  law 
to  confer  happiness,  because  we  should 
more  and  more  observe  how  the  despi- 
sing it  produced  misery.    We  should 
more  and  more  perceive  in  it  an  en- 
gine for  counteracting  human  degen- 
eracy, because  there  would  be,  on  all 
sides,  the  matefial  of  conviction,  that, 
in  setting  it  aside,  men  sank  to  the  low- 
est level  of  degradation.    We  should 
more   and   more  regard  it  as  the  best 
boon  Avhich  God  had  conferred  on  this 
creation,  because  we  should   increas- 
ingly discover  that  it  could  only  be  re- 
moved by  substituting  a  fearful  curse 
in  its  stead.    And  would  not  then  this 
law  appear  more  deserving  than  ever 
of  our  veneration  and  attachment!    If 
we  ever  before   prized  it  above  gold, 
should  we  not  now  prize  it  above  fine 
goldl    There  are   two  ways  in  which 
the  commandments  of  God  prove  equal- 
ly their  excellence — by  the  blessed  re- 
sults which  follow  on  obedience,  and 
by  the  tremendous  results  which  fol- 
low on  disobedience.    The  former  are 
to  be  seen  when  the  law  is  observed, 
the  latter  when  that  law  is  made  void. 
But  since,  in  each  case,  the  same  truth 
is  exhibited — that  of  the  power  of  the 
law  to  confer  happiness — in  each  case, 
the  same  reason  is  given  why  the  law 
j  should  be   increasingly  the   object  of 
I  our  love. 

!      We  will  take  a  simple  instance,  and 

j  gather  from  it  the  principle  on  which 

i  we  now  insist.  A  young  person  is  born 

of  religious  parents,  and  educated  in 

I  the  fear  of  the  Almighty.    But  the  fa- 

I  ther  and  mother  have  been  gathered  to 

the  grave,  and  the  temptations  of  the 

world  prevail  over  their  instructions, 

and  the  child  becomes  the  irreligious 

;  and  profligate.     He   passes  from    one 

degree  of  wickedness  to  another,  till 

at  length,  as  the  perpetrator  of  some 

fearful  crime,  he  waits  the  shame  of  a 

j  public  execution.    And  in  this  condi- 

'  tion  he  is  visited  by  a  clergyman,  who 


268 


THE    DIVINE    PATIENCE    EXHAUSTED 


perhaps   Temcmbers   the    days   of   his 
youth,  whilst  his  honored  parents  were 
yet  alive,  and  himself  an  inmate  of  the 
village-school.     It    is    a   grievous    and 
sickening  spectacle,  that,   of  one  who 
was  cradled  in  piety,  and  into  whose 
opening  intelligence  were  distilled  the 
precepts  of  righteousness,  thus  lying 
as  an  outcast,  branded  with  indignity, 
and  expecting    the  penalty    of  death. 
And  the  minister  asks  of  him  the  his- 
tory of  his  guilt,  how  i^  came  to  pass 
that  he  wandered  so  far,  and  so  fatally 
from  uprightness.    The  whole  is  traced 
to   neglect  of   the    commandments    of 
God, — a  neglect  which  began  perhaps 
in  minor  points,  but  rapidly  increased 
till  the  whole  law  was  made  void.  And 
we  shall  not  attempt  to  tell  you  with 
what  bitterness  of  soul,  and  what  in- 
tenseness  of  self-reproach,  the  crimi- 
nal recalls  the  dying  looks  and  words 
of  his  parents,  as  they  bequeathed  him 
the  Bible  as  his  best  treasure,  and  be- 
sought him,   with  many  tears,  to  take 
its  precepts  as  his  guide.    The  upper- 
most and  crushing  feelings  in  his  spirit 
is,  that,  had  he  followed  the  parting  ad- 
vice of  his  father  and  mother,  he  would 
have  lived  honorably  and  happily,  and 
would  never   have  thus  become  a  by- 
word and  an  execration  ;  every  thing 
earthly  shipwrecked,  and  nothing  hea- 
venly  secured.    But  we  only  want  to 
know  what  would   be  the  thoughts  of 
the  minister  in   regard  of  God's  com- 
mandments, as  he  retired  from  the  cell 
where  he  had  deliv^ered  the  messages 
of  the  Gospel.  He  has  been  looking  on 
an    instance    of   the    consequences    of 
making  void  the  divine  law.    He  can- 
not but  contrast  what  the  criminal  is, 
with  what  he  would  have  been,  had  he 
not  made  void  that  law.    And  does  he 
not  gather  from  the  contrast  a  higher 
sense  than  he  had  before   entertained 
of  the  excellence  of  that  law,  and  of  its 
might  in  contributing   to  the  present, 
as  well  as  future  welfare  of  mankind! 
We  can  quite  believe  that,  as  he  re- 
treated from  the  overpowering  scene, 
his  mind  agonized  by  the  thought  that 
one,  of  whom  he  had  augured  well,  was 
thus  hopelessly  reduced  to  a  desolate 
and  ruined  thing,  the  value  of  God's 
law,  as  a  rule  of  human  conduct,  and  a 
safeguard  of  human  happiness,  would 
be  felt  by  him  in  a  degree  which  he 
had  never  yet  experieucedj  and  that  it 


would  be  into  such  a  form  as  this  that 
his  reflections  would  shape  themselves, 
— indeed.  Lord,  he  hath  made  void  thy 
law  ;  therefore,  as  for  me,  "  therefore 
I  love  thy  commandments  above  gold, 
yea,  above  fine  gold." 

Now  it  is  not  difficult  thus  to  trace 
a  connection  between  the  making  void 
of  God's  law,  and  the  heightened  love 
which  the  righteous  entertain  to  that 
law.  The  law  cannot  be  made  void, 
whether  nationally  or  individually, 
without  an  accompanying  demonstra- 
tion that  it  is  both  designed  and  adapt- 
I  ed  to  bless  the  human  race.  And  we 
1  need  not  add,  that  every  such  demon- 
I  stration  enhances  the  worth  of  the  law 
in  the  estimation  of  the  righteous,  so 
that  the  transition  is  very  natural  from 
the  statement  of  a  general  profligacy  of 
manners  to  that  of  an  increased  love  to 
the  commandments  of  God. 

But  we  have  yet  another  mode  ia 
which  to  exhibit  the  connection  be- 
tween the  verses,  though  it  may  have 
already  suggested  itself  to  your  minds. 
— We  have  hitherto  supposed  the 
strengthened  attachment  which  David 
expresses  towards  the  law,  to  have 
been  produced  by  the  fact  that  this 
law  was  made  void.  But  we  now  refer 
it  to  the  fact  that  it  was  time  for  God 
to  work.  We  consider,  that  is,  that 
when  the  Psalmist  says,  "therefore  I 
love  thy  commandments  above  gold, 
yea,  above  fine  gold,"  the  reason  is  to 
be  found  in  the  character  of  the  times, 
in  the  season  being  one  at  which  God 
must  bring  judgments  on  the  earth. 
"  Since  thy  law  is  made  void,  it  is  time 
for  thee.  Lord,  to  interfere  in  ven- 
geance ;  and,  on  this  account,  because 
wrath  must  be  let  loose,  therefore  I 
love  thy  commandments  above  gold, 
j^ea,  above  fine  gold." 

And  if  this  be  regarded  as  the  con- 
nection between  the  verses,  you  will 
readily  admit  that  there  is  abundant 
force  in  the  reason  of  the  Psalmist.  If 
there  be  one  season  at  which,  more 
than  at  another,  the  righteous  feel  the 
worth  of  revelation,  and  the  blessedness 
of  obeying  its  precepts,  the  season 
must  be  that  of  danger  and  trouble. 
Whether  the  danger  and  trouble  be 
public  or  domestic ;  whether  it  be  his 
countrj%  or  only  his  own  household, 
over  which  calamity  hangs;  the  man 
of  piety  finds  a  consolation  in  religion 


THROUGH    THE    MAKING    VqID    THE    LAVT. 


269 


which  makes  him  more  than  ever  prize  j 
the  revealed  will  of  God.    There  is  a 
beauty  and  energy  in  the  Bible  which  j 
nothing  but  affliction  can  bring  out  and  j 
display  ;  and  men  know  comparatively  ! 
little   of  the   preciousness   of  Scriptu-  i 
ral  promises,  and  the  magnificence  of  | 
Scriptural   hopes,   until   placed   in  cir-  \ 
cumstances  of  difficulty  and  distress. 
There  are  always  one   or  two  stations 
from  which  you  gain  the  best  view  of 
a  noble  and  diversified  landscape  ;  and 
it  is  when  "constrained  to  dwell  with 
Mesheck,  and  to  have  our  habitation 
among  the  tents   of  Kedar,"  that  our 
gaze  includes  most  of  what  is  glorious 
and  brilliant  in  the  scheme  of  divine 
mercy.    It  is  the  promise   of  God  in 
the  91st  Psalm — a  promise  addressed 
to  every  one  who  makes  God  his  trust, 
— "  I   will  be    with    him    in    trouble." 
But  when  or  where   is   not  God   with 
us]  Whither  shall  I  go  from  thy  Spi- 
rit,  or   whither   shall   I  flee  from   thy 
presence  1  Indeed  we  well  know  that 
every  where    is   the    universe  full    of 
Deity,  and  that,  at  no  time,  and  in  no 
place,   can  we  be   at  a  distance  from 
God:  and  yet,  as  though  in  the  day  of 
darkness  and   disaster,   the    Omnipre-  i 
sent  could  so  redouble  his  presence, 
that   every  other    day    should   be,    in 
comparison,  one  of  absence,  the   pro- 
mise is,  "  I  will  be  with  him  in  trou- 
ble."   And  the  promise  is  so  fulfilled 
in  the  experience  of  the  righteous,  that 
they  will  own  their  sorrows  to  have 
been  far  more  than  compensated  by  the 
consolations   afforded   in  the  hour    of 
tribulation,  so  that  it  would  have  been 
clearly  for  their  loss  to  have  escaped 
their  trials.    They  are  gainers  by  their 
troubles — for  God    removes    no    good 
without  leaving  a  greater;  if  he  takes 
away  an  earthly  friend,  he  gives  them 
more  of  himself.    Such  we  affirm  to  be 
the  experience  of  the  righteous  ;  and 
we  are  confident  that  we  might  appeal 
to  many   of  our  hearers  for  evidence 
that  we  overstate  not  this  experience. 
There  are  many  of  you  who  can  testi- 
fy to  a  power  in  the  Bible  of  which 
you  were  not  conscious,  and  to  a  sup- 
porting energy  in  divine  grace,  which 
you    scarcely    suspected,     until    your 
households  were  invaded  by  calamity. 
And  if  such  be  the  fact,  what  feeling 
will  be  more  excited  in  the  righteous, 
when  compelled  to  own  that  it  is  time 


for  God  to  work,  than  that  of  love  to 
the  divine  lawl  If  they  see  trouble 
approaching,  what  will  they  do  but 
cling  with  greater  earnestness  to  that 
which  alone  can  support  them,  and 
which  they  know  will  never  fail  ?  Will 
not  their  affection  to  God's  word  be 
vastly  enhanced  by  the  consciousness 
that  they  are  about  to  be  in  circum- 
stances when  the  promises  of  that 
word  must  be  put  to  the  proof,  and  by 
the  certainty  that  the  putting  them  to 
the  proof  will  issue  in  their  thorough 
fulfilment  ]  If  they  have  loved  the  word 
above  gold  in  the  hour  of  prosperi- 
ty, they  must  love  it  above  fine  gold, 
as  they  mark  the  gatherings  of  adver- 
sity. 

"It  is  time  for  thee.  Lord,  to  work." 
"  They  have  forsaken  thy  covenant, 
thrown  down  thy  altars,  and  slain  thy 
prophets  with  the  sword ;"  and  the 
Judge  of  men  must  arise,  and  vindi- 
cate his  insulted  authority.  But  I  know 
on  whom  the  mark  of  deliverance  will 
be  set,  when  the  men  with  the  slaugh- 
ter-weapons are  commanded  to  pass 
through  the  land.  I  know  that  where 
there  is  obedience  to  thy  law,  there 
will  be  security  from  thy  wrath.  And 
hence  that  law  is  more  precious  in  my 
sight  than  it  ever  was  before — "  it  is 
time  for  thee  to  Avork;  therefore  Hove 
thy  commandments  above  gold;  yea, 
above  fine  gold." 

"  It  is  time  for  thee.  Lord,  to  work." 
There  is  much  in  myself  which  requires 
the  processes  of  the  refiner,  much  of 
the  corruptible  to  be  removed,  much 
of  the  dross  to  be  purged  awaj'.  But 
if  it  be  needful  that  I  be  cast  into  the 
furnace  of  affliction,  I  have  thy  pre- 
cepts to  which  to  cling,  thy  promises 
on  which  to  rest.  I  find  that  thy  word 
comforts  me  in  the  prospect ;  I  know 
that  it  will  sustain  me  in  the  endurance  ; 
and  hence,  because  it  is  time  for  thee 
to  work,  therefore  is  thy  word  dearer 
to  me  "than  the  gold,  yea,  than  the 
fine  gold." 

"  It  is  time  for  thee.  Lord,  to  Avork." 
The  season  of  my  pilgrimage  draws  to 
a  close  ;  the  earthly  house  of  this  ta- 
bernacle must  be  taken  down ;  and  the 
hour  is  at  hand  when  thou  wilt  recall 
my  spirit,  and  summon  me  to  the  judg- 
ment seat.  Great  God!  what  can  be  of 
worth  to  me  in  a  time  such  as  this  ? 
What  can  I  value,   when  every  thing 


270 


ON    THE    STRENGTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAINS    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


earthly  is  slipping  from  my  holdl 
Thy  commandments — commandments 
which  direct  me  to  believe  upon  thy 
Son — thy  law,  a  law  so  obeyed  by  the 
Mediator  in  my  stead,  that  its  every 
precept  acquits  me,  and  its  every  re- 
ward awaits  me — these  are  precious 
to  me,  unspeakably  more  precious  than 
ever  before.  I  know  that  thy  strange 
work  must  be  wrought  on  me,  the 
work  of  dissolution.  I  know  that  the 
time  is  come,  when  I  must  go  hence 
and  be  no  more  seen.  But  I  know  also 
that,  "  till  heaven  and  earth  pass,  one 
jot  or  one  tittle  shall  in  no  wise  pass 
from  thy  law."  I  know  that  "  blessed 
are  they  that  do  his  commandments, 
that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree 
of  life,  and  may  enter  in  through  the 
gates  into  the  city."  The  nearer,  there- 
fore, the  approaches  of  death,  the  more 
worthless  appears  every  thing  but  thy 


word,  O  my  God!  The  gold,  and  the 
fine  gold,  can  profit  me  nothing  j  for 
''  it  is  time  for  thee  to  work,"  and 
earth,  with  all  its  treasures,  must  be 
left.  But  thy  commandments — a  com- 
mandment that  death  be  swallowed  up 
in  victory,  a  commandment  that  the 
corruptible  put  on  incorruption,  a  com- 
mandment that  new  heavens  and  a  new 
earth  rise  as  the  everlasting  home  of 
righteousness — these  give  me  gladness 
as  I  enter  the  dark  valley ;  these  I 
would  not  barter  for  the  richest  and 
costliest  of  earthly  things — "  it  is  time 
for  thee,  Lord,  to  work  :  therefore  I 
love  thy  commandments  above  gold, 
yea,  above  fine  gold." 

We  have  nothing  to  add  but  an  ear- 
nest prayer  that  Ave  may  all  be  able  to 
say  from  the  heart  with  David,  "  Oh, 
how  I  love  thy  law ;  it  is  my  medita- 
tion all  thy  day." 


SERMON. 


ON  THE  STRENGTH  WHICH   FAITH  GAINS  BY  EXPERIENCE. 


"  For  I  know  wliom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  whicli  I  have  com- 
mitted unto  him  against  that  day." — 2  Timothy,  1  :  12. 


You  will  observe,  if  you  consult  the 
context  of  this  passage,  that  St.  Paul 
is  speaking  of  our  Redeemer.  In  the 
tenth  verse  he  had  made  mention  of 
our  Savior  Jesus  Christ,  as  having 
abolished  deaths  and  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light  through  the  Gospel. 
The  discourse  is  then  continuous  up  to 
the  words  which  I  have  just  read  to 
you;  so  that  we  are  not  left  in  doubt 
as  to  the  being  upon  whom  St.  Paul 
fastened  his  faith.  It  was  Christ  with 
whom  the  apostle  had  left  some  great 
deposit,  and  of  whose  power  and  faith- 
fulness he  expresses  his  deep-wrought 
persuasion.  And  it  will  therefore  be 
our  business,  in  any  inquiries  to  which 
this  passage  may  lead,  to  bear  careful- 


ly in  mind  that  Deity,  united  with  hu- 
manity in  the  Mediator's  person,  con- 
stituted that  object  of  faith  which  had 
been  proved  so  trust-worthy  by  the 
teacher  of  the  Gentiles. 

Now  there  is  an  important  distinc- 
tion to  be  drawn  between  experience 
and  faith,  and  which  is  clearly  marked 
out  to  us  by  these  words  of  the  apos- 
tle. It  is  certain  that  a  man  cannot  be 
saved  without  faith,  but  it  is  just  as 
certain  that  he  may  be  saved  without 
experience.  You  must  all  perceive  that 
if  the  matter  under  review  be  the  pow- 
er and  sufUciency  of  the  Savior,  there 
must  be  faith  before  there  can  be  ex- 
perience. We  can  know  nothing  of 
Christ,  e.xcept  by  rumor  and  hearsay, 


ON    THE    STRENGTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAINS    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


271 


until  we  believe  in  him.  But  unques- 
tionably we  might  believe  in  him,  and 
then  the  arrest  of  death  coming  upon 
us  at  the  instant  of  the  outputting  of 
faith,  all  personal  knowledge  of  him 
must  be  referred  to  another  and  a 
higher  state  of  being.  So  that  it  would 
be  accurate  to  say,  that  while  faith  is 
indispensable,  experience  is  not  indis- 
pensable to  salvation.  We  have  ta- 
ken, however,  the  extreme  case.  And 
though  it  be  certainly  supposable  that 
a  man  might  enter  into  heaven  without 
experience,  properly  so  called,  yet  it 
is  true,  as  a  general  rule,  that  faith 
will  be  followed  by  experience,  and 
that  whosoever  believes  in  Christ  will 
go  on  to  know  tchom  he  hath  believed. 
We  may  therefore  say  of  experience, 
that  it  is  a  kind  of  touchstone  to  which 
faith  should  be  brought.  For  whilst  we 
would  set  ourselves  most  earnestly, 
and  most  assiduously,  against  the  re- 
solving religion  into  a  mere  thing  of 
frames  and  of  feelings,  we  are  bound 
to  hold  that  it  is  no  matter  of  frigid  or 
heartless  speculation,  but  that  a  real 
christian  must  have  a  real  sense  of  the 
power  and  preciousness  of  Christ.  We 
consider  that  it  would  be  altogether 
idle  to  maintain  that  a  man  may  believe 
in  Christ  as  a  Savior  for  months  or 
years,  and  yet  have  no  wii7iess  i?i  him- 
self to  the  energies  of  that  Being  to- 
wards whom  his  faith  is  directed.  Faith 
is  that  mighty,  though  mysterious  prin- 
ciple, which  attaches  a  man  to  Christ. 
And  we  may  fairly  set  it  down  as  im- 
possible that  there  should  be  actual 
membership  between  ourselves  and  the 
Mediator,  and  yet  nothing  of  personal 
practical  acquaintance  with  his  suffi- 
ciencies for  the  office  which  he  fills.  He 
who  believes  will  iasie  and  see  that  the 
Jjord  is  gracious;  and  knowledge  be- 
ing superadded  to  faith,  he  will  be  his 
own  testimony  that  the  Bible  is  no  cun- 
ningly-devised fable;  but  that  Christ 
crucified,  though  u?ito  the  Jews  a  stum- 
bling-block^ and  unto  the  Greeks  fool- 
ishness, is  nevertheless  the  power  of 
God  and  the  wisdom  of  God. 

And  we  think  it  worth  while  to  ob- 
serve, before  we  quit  these  introducto- 
ry remarks,  that  experience  thus  cor- 
roborating faith,  is  at  the  root  of  that 
stanchness  which  poor  men  will  ex- 
liibit  Avhen  plied  with  the  arguments  of 
the  sceptic.    You  will  not  find  that  an 


uneducated  believer  is  more  easily 
overborne  than  a  well-educated,  by  the 
doubts  and  objections  of  infidelity.  If 
the  illiterate  man  be  not  so  able  as  the 
instructed,  to  expose  the  hollowness, 
and  to  demonstrate  the  fallacy  of  the 
reasoning  by  which  he  is  assailed,  he 
will  be  to  the  full  as  rigorous  in  his 
resistance  of  the  attack,  and  will  be  no 
more  shaken  from  his  faith  through 
want  of  acquaintance  with  the  eviden- 
ces of  Christianity,  than  if  he  were 
equipped  with  all  that  armor  of  proof 
which  has  been  heaped  together  by  the 
learned  of  the  earth.  And  we  hold  the 
explanation  of  the  phenomenon  to  be, 
that  the  poor  man  knows  whom  he  hath 
believed.  If  he  can  make  no  appeal  to 
history  and  to  science,  and  so  fetch  no 
Avitness  from  the  records  of  the  earth 
and  its  inhabitants,  he  can  travel  into  the 
world  which  lies  within  himself;  and 
he  gathers  from  what  has  been  trans- 
acted there,  and  experienced  there,  a 
mightier  testimony  than  was  ever 
wrung  from  external  evidence.  When 
he  began  to  believe,  it  may  be  true 
that  he  could  give  but  little  account  of 
any  ground-work  on  which  he  builded 
his  faith.  But  as  he  goes  on  believing, 
his  faith  may  be  said  to  become  more 
and  more  built  upon  knowledge ;  and 
there  will  be  wrought  in  him  gradual- 
ly,  througn  his  own  personal  experi- 
ence of  the  power  and  faithfulness  of 
the  Savior,  something  of  the  persuasion 
which  is  expressed  by  St.  Paul,  and 
which  Avill  more  than  supply  the  place 
of  those  ramparts  against  infidelity 
which  have  been  thrown  up  by  the  la- 
bors of  the  champions  of  Christianity. 
And  though  we  have  directed  our  re- 
marks to  the  case  of  the  poor  and  the 
illiterate,  we  would  not  have  it  thought 
that  they  are  inapplicable  to  others.  It 
is  quite  evident  that  the  great  apostle 
himself,  than  whom  there  hath  never 
arisen  a  man  better  able  to  demon- 
strate, on  external  grounds,  that  Jesus 
was  the  Christ,  strengthened  his  faith 
by  his  knowledge,  and  fetched  out  of 
his  own  experience  his  choicest  proof  of 
the  fulness  which  is  laid  up  in  the  Sa- 
vior. And  thus  with  ourselves  ;  what- 
ever our  rank  in  society,  and  whatever 
our  advantages  of  education,  we  must 
place  ourselves  on  the  same  level  with 
the  mean  and  the  uninstructed,  Vvhen 
searching  out  the  best  evidence  that 


272 


ON    THE    STEENGTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAINS   BY    EXPERIENCE. 


Christ  can  save  to  the  uttermost ;  and 
there  will  never  be  a  proof  half  so  ri- 
gid, and  half  so  overwhelming,  of  the 
ability  of  the  Mediator  to  guard  the 
bodies  and  the  souls  of  his  people,  as 
that  which  we  derive  from  things  al- 
ready done  for  us,  in  the  warfare  which 
■we  prosecute  against  Satan  and  the 
world. 

We  will  now  pass  on,  from  these  ge- 
neral remarks,  to  a  closer  examination 
of  the  subject  brought  before  us  by  our 
text.  We  ask  you  once  more  to  ob- 
serve, that  with  St.  Paul,  experience 
came  evidently  in  to  the  corroboration 
of  faith ;  so  that  the  apostle's  faith  was 
stronger,  and  that,  too,  as  a  consequence 
of  what  he  knew  of  Christ,  than  when 
he  had  first  of  all  started  from  the  ranks 
of  the  persecutor.  He  had  gone  through 
affliction  and  toil  in  the  service  of  the 
Savior,  and  he  felt  assured  that  now 
the  period  was  not  far  distant,  when  he 
should  be  called  to  brave  martyrdom  in 
his  cause.  But  in  all  the  trials  through 
which  he  had  passed,  there  had  been 
administered  unto  him  such  abundance 
of  support  and  consolation,  that  former 
troubles,  in  place  of  disheartening,  on- 
ly nerved  him  for  the  endurance  of 
fresh.  He  was  nothing  disquieted  at 
the  prospect  of  imprisonment  anddeath. 
In  carving  his  way  through  opposition 
already  overcome,  he  had  realized  so 
much  of  the  sustaining  might  of  the 
Redeemer,  that  he  could  look  forward 
with  a  noble  assurance  to  a  final,  and 
still  fiercer  combat.  If  indeed  there  had 
been  failure  in  the  communications  of 
assistance — if,  depending  on  the  pro- 
mised support,  he  had  gone  to  the  bat- 
tle, and  there  met  with  discomfiture — 
he  might  have  been  conscious  of  some- 
thing akin  to  mistrust  and  shrinking, 
when  he  saw  his  foes  mustering  for  the 
last  assault.  But  he  knew  whovi  he  had 
believed;  he  had  put  Christ,  as  it  were, 
to  the  proof,  and  obtained  nothing  but 
an  evidence,  every  day  strengthened, 
that  all  the  promises  in  him  are  yea, 
and  in  him  amen,  to  the  glory  of  God 
the  Father,  And  now,  though  he  had 
deposited  his  all  with  the  Redeemer, — 
though  he  had  gathered,  so  to  speak, 
his  every  interest,  time  and  eternity, 
into  one  cast,  and  staked  the  whole 
upon  the  faithfulness  of  Christ, — he 
was  not  disturbed  with  the  lightest  ap- 
prehension of  risk  or  peril ;  but,  look- 


ing composedly  on  the  advancing  tide, 
which,  upon  human  calculations,  was 
to  sweep  him  away,  and  bury  all  his 
hopes  in  its  depths,  he  could  avouch 
his  unflinching  persuasion,  that  Jesus 
was  able  to  keep  that  which  he  had  com- 
mitted unto  him  against  that  day,  when 
he  should  be  glorified  in  his  saints,  and 
admired  in  all  them  that  believe. 

Such,  we  think,  is  the  statement  of 
our  text,  when  taken  in  the  breadth  of 
its  meaning.  And  if  we  now  consider 
the  passage  as  descriptive  simply  of 
what  is,  or  Avhat  ought  to  be,  the  expe- 
rience of  every  believer  in  Christ,  we 
deduce  from  it  two  facts,  each  of  which 
deserves  the  best  of  your  attention. 

In  the  first  place,  we  ascertain  that 
the  believer  obtains  a  knowledge  of 
Christ. 

In  the  second  place,  we  determine 

THAT  THE  KNOAVLEDGE  THUS  OBTAINED  IS 
SUCH  AS  TO  GENERATE  CONFIDENCE. 

We  will  give  ourselves  to  the  exami- 
nation of  these  facts  in  succession,  dis- 
cussing, at  the  same  time,  such  collat- 
eral truths  as  shall  seem  presented  by 
the  words  of  the  apostle. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  a  believer 

OBTAINS  A   KNOWLEDGE    OF  ChRIST.     NoW 

we  think  that  it  may  be  both  from  his 
own  experience,  and  from  the  experi- 
ence of  others,  that  a  christian  knows 
whom  he  hath  believed.  You  may  indeed 
argue,  that  so  far  as  the  experience  of 
others  is  concerned,  there  is  no  neces- 
sity that  a  man  should  be  a  believer  in 
Christ  in  order  to  his  obtaining  acquain- 
tance with  Christ.  Assuredly  any  one, 
whatsoever  his  own  personal  senti- 
ments on  religion,  may  give  attention 
to  the  biography  of  God-fearing  men, 
and  gather  from  the  dealings  of  which 
they  have  been  the  subjects,  all  the  in- 
formation which  they  furnish  with  re- 
gard to  the  character  of  the  Mediator. 
But  we  deny  this  proposition,  though 
it  may  seem  too  simple  to  admit  of 
any  question.  Unless  a  man  be  him- 
self a  converted  man,  he  cannot  enter 
into  the  facts  and  the  feelings  which 
this  biography  lays  open.  The  whole 
record  will  wear  to  him  an  air  of 
strangeness  and  of  mystery  ;  and  if  he 
have  the  candor  not  to  resolve  into  fa- 
naticism the  registered  experience,  he 
will  be  forced  to  pass  it  over  as  thor- 
oughly unintelligible.  If  a  man  know 
nothing  of  chemistry,  and  if  he  take  up 


ON    THE   STIIENGTH    WHtCII    FAITH   GAINS    BY   EXPERIENCE. 


'273 


a  treatise  upon  chemistry,  he  is  at  a 
loss  in   every  page,  and  can  make  no 
way,   through  want   of  that  acquaint- 
ance with  the  subject  which  tiie  work 
presupposes.    And  if  the  author  be  giv- 
ing something  of  his  own  history,  and 
if  he  carry  the  reader  into  his  Libora- 
tory,  and   count   over  to   him   experi- 
ments, and  bring  out  results,  why,  the 
man  who   is  no   chemist,  and  who   is 
therefore   altogether    ignorant    of   the 
properties  of  the  substances  on  which 
the  scientific  man  works,  will  under- 
stand  not,   or  appreciate  not,  the  dis- 
coveries which  are  reached  of  the  se- 
crets of  nature  .;  but  with  all  the  appa- 
ratus of  knowledge  spread  before  him, 
will  remain  as  ignorant  as  ever,  through 
the  not  having  mastered  the  alphabet 
of  chemistry.  And  what  is  true  of  such 
a  science  as  chemistry,  we  hold  to  be 
-equally  true   of  practical  Christianity, 
The  experiments,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
which  have  been  made  in  the  soul  of  a 
man  of  piety  and  prayer, — experiments 
of  the  power  of  grace  and  of  indwell- 
ing  sin — and    the   results   also   which 
have   been  derived  from  such  experi- 
ments;   we   would   certainly    contend 
that  these  cannot  be  understood,  and 
cannot  be  entered  into,  unless  the  indi- 
vidual who   peruses    the  record   have 
something  of  fellow-feeling  with  the 
subject  of  the  biography — unless,  that 
is,  there  shall  have  passed  on  him  that 
renovating  change  which  has  brought 
Iiim  out  of  nominal  into  real  Christiani- 
ty.   After  all,  the  deriving  knowledge 
of  Christ  from  the  experience  of  others 
must  be  through  an  act  of  faith.    It  is 
by  belief  in  testimony,  that  what  has 
been  done  for  our  fellow-men  by  the 
Redeemer,  is  turned  into  information 
to.  ourselves  of  kis  sufficiencies  for  his 
office.    So  that  it  were  fair  to  argue, 
that  a  man  must  have  faith,  and  there- 
fore religious  experience  for  himself, 
otherwise  he  possesses  not  the  faculty 
hy  which  to  extract  knowledge  from 
the  religious  experience  of  others. 

But  let  a  man  be  a  believer  in  Christ, 
and  every  day  of  his  life  will  bring  him 
intelligence,  from  external  testimony, 
of  the  worth  of  the  Being  on  whom  he 
fastens  his  faith.  The  witnesses  who 
stand  out  and  attest  the  excellences  of 
the  Mediator,  occupy  the  whole  scale 
of  intelligence,  from  the  Creator  down- 
wards, through  every  rank  of  the  crea- 


ture. The  man  of  faith  hears  the  Father 
himself  bearing  testimony  by  a  voice 
from  heaven,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son, 
in  w/iom  I  am  well  pleased.''''    He  hears 
angels  and  archangels  lauding  and  mag- 
nifying Christ's  glorious  name  :  for  do 
not  the  winged  hierarchies  of  heaven 
bow  to  him  the  knee,  and  that  too  as 
the  consequence  of  his  work  of  media- 
tion ?  He  hears  patriarchs  who  lived  in 
the  infancy  of  the  world  ;  prophets  who 
took  up  in  succession  the  mighty  strain, 
and  sent  it  on  from  century  to  century  ; 
apostles  who  went  out  to  the  battle  with 
idolatrjr,  and  counled  not  their  lives  dear 
to  them,  so  that  they  might  plant  the 
cross  amid  the  wilds  of  superstition  : — 
he  hears  all  these,  with  one  heart  and 
one  voice,  witnessing  to  Jesus,  as  the 
Son  of  the  Highest,  the  Savior  of  the 
lost.    And  he  hears,  moreover,  the  mar- 
tyrs and  the  confessors  of  every  gene- 
ration ;  the  saints  who  have  held  fast 
their  allegiance  on  the  rack  and  in  the 
furnace ;  the  noble  champions  who  have 
risen    up    in  the   daj^s  of  a   declining 
church,  and  shed  their  blood  like  wa- 
ter in  defence  of  the  purity  of  doctrine  ; 
he   hears  the   men  of  whom  the  world 
was  not  worthy,  uttering  an  unflinchino- 
attestation  to  the  willingness  and  abili- 
Xj  of  Christ  to  succor  those  who  give 
themselves  to  his  service.  And  he  hears, 
finally,  a  voice  from  the  thousands  who, 
in  more  private   stations,  have   taken 
Christ  as  their  Lord  and  their  God ; 
who,  in  dependance  on  his  might,  have 
gone  unobtrusively  through  duty  and 
trial,  and  then  have  lain  down  on  the 
death-bed,  and  worn  a  smile  amid  the 
decayings  of  the  body, — and  this  voice 
bears   a  witness,  stanch  and  decisive, 
that  He  in  whom  they  have  trusted,  has 
proved  himself  all-sufficient  to  deliver. 
And  if  we  do  right  in  arguing  that  there 
is  poured  in  gradually  upon  a  believer 
this  scarcely  measurable   evidence   to 
the  power  and  faithfulness  of  Christ, 
will  it  not  come  to  pass  that  he  grows 
every  day  more  acquainted  Avith  the  ex- 
cellencies of  the  Savior  J  so  that,  by 
gathering   in   from    the    accumulated 
stores  of  the  testimony  of  others,  he 
will  be  able,  with  a  continually  strength- 
ening assurance,   to   declare,  /  know 
whom  1  have  believed. 

If  it  were  possible  that  this  testimony 
of  others  should  be   appreciated  and 
grasped  without  faith,  or  without  con- 
35 


274, 


ox    THE    STRENGTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAINS    EV    EXPEKIENCE. 


version,  then  it  would  be  certain  that  ;  able..    God,  so  to  speak,  measures  and 
a  vast  way  might  be  made  in  the  know-    weighs  every  trial  before  he  permits  it 


ledije  of  Christ,  by  men  whose  own  ex- 
perience could  furnish  no  information. 
But,  forasmucli  as  on  the  grounds  al 


to  be  allotted.  He  sets  it  side  by  side 
with  the  circumstances  and  strength  of 
the  party  upon  whom  it  is  to  fall.  And 


ready  laid  down,  there  must  be  a  pre-  j  if  he  ever  perceive  that  the  temptation 
pared  soil  for  the  reception  of  these  !  overpasses  the  capacity  of  resistance, 
testimonies  to  Christ,  we  think  it  fair  j  so  that,  if  thus  tempted,  an  individual 
lo  contend  that  no  man  can  know  would  be  tempted  above  that  he  is  able ; 
Christ  unless  he  believe  in  Christ,  even  j  then  God  is  represented  to  us  as  refus- 
though  the  knowledge  may  be  fetched  ing  to  permit  the  appointment,  and 
from  the  recorded  attestations  of  every  :  therefore  as  watching  that  believers 
order  of  intelligence.  ii-i'iy  never  be  unavoidably  brought  into 

It  is  not,  however,  so  much  from  such  a  position  that  their  yielding  to 
what  is  told  him  by  others,  as  from  i  evil  shall  be  a  matter  of  necessity.  And 
what  he  experiences  in  himself,  that  a  j  it    certainly   must    follow    from    these 


scriptural  premises,  that  the  being  over- 
powered can  never  be  charged  on  a  de- 
ficiency in  succor;  and  that,  though  it 


believer  knows  whom  he  hath  believed. 
You  will  observe  that  as  a  result  of  his 
acting  faith  upon  Christ,  he  is  engaged  j 

in  a  moral  warfare  with  the  world,  the  '  were  idle  to  plead  for  the  possibility  of 
flesh,  and  the  devil.  He  goes  to  the  our  attaining  perfection,  yet  the  im- 
combat  in  no  strength  of  his  own,  but  possibility  arises  not  from  God's  com- 
bimply  in  the  might  of  his  risen  Re-  municating  too  little  of  assistance,  but 
deemer.  And  the  question  is,  whether  '  solely  from  our  own  M-ant  of  vigilance 
thus  putting  to  the  proof  the  Savior  of  \  in  appropriating  and  applying  the  free- 
men, he  obtains  an  evidence  for,  or  an  ,  ]y  offered  aids. 

evidence  against,  his  ability  to  help  and  We  take  it,  therefore,  as  the  expe- 
sustain  \  And  can  we  hesitate  as  to  the  i  rience  of  a  believer,  that  the  Captain  of 
side  on  which  the  testimony  turns  1.  If  I  Salvation  strengthens  his  followers  for 
a  believer  is  at  any  time  overborne  in  the  moral  conflict  to  which  they  are 
the  conflict ;  if  lust  gain  the  victory,  or  pledged.  How  often,  when  Satan  has 
the  world  for  a  while  re-assert  the  sov-  i  brought  all  his  powers  to  the  assault, 
ereignty  of  which  it  hath  been  stripped  ;  j  and  the  man  has  seemed  within  a  hair- 
«hall  it  be  supposed  for  a  moment  that  [  breadth  of  yielding,  how  often  has  an 
such  result  may  be  ascribed  to  deficien-  !  earnest  prayer,  thrown  like  an  arrow 
cy  in  the  assistance  which  Christ  lives  to  the  mercy-seat,  caused  Christ  to  ap- 
to  communicate '!  If  a  christian  is  over- j  pear,  as  he  once  did  to  Joshua,  the  cap- 
thrown,  it  is  because  he  is  surprised  off  lain  of  the  Lord's  host;  and  the  tide 
his  guard.  But  is  Christ  chargeable  j  of  battle  has  been  turned,  and  the  foe 
Avith  his  being  oft' his  guard  \  It  is  be-  I  has  been  routed,  and  the  oppressed  one 
cause  he  is  remiss  in  prayer,  or  be- I  delivered !  How  often,  when  an  evil 
cause  he  parleys  with  temptation,  or  ,  passion  has  almost  goaded  the  believer 
because  he  avails  not  himself  of  the  into  compliance  with  its  dictates,  and 
armor  provided  by  God.  But  is  Christ  there  seemed  no  longer  any  likelihood 
charo'eable  with  his  negligence,  with  of  its  being  kept  down  or  ejected,  how, 
his  indecision,  with  his  carelessness  in  ,  by  dealing  with  this  passion  as  dealt 
the  use  of  instituted  means  1  We  may  the  apostles  of  old  v.'ith  foul  spirits 
lay  it  down  as  an  ascertained  truth,  which  had  entered  into  the  body,  call- 
that  Christ  never  failed  a  believer  in  ing  over  it  the  name  of  the  Lord  Je- 
his  hour  of  combat.  The  believer  may  sus, — how  often,  we  say,  has  the  pas- 
be  mastered;  the  enemy  may  come  in  sion  been  cast  out,  and  the  possessed 
like  a  flood,  and  there  may  be  no  effi-  man  restored  quickly  to  soundness  and 
cient  resistance  opposed  to  the  inrush,  peace !  How  often,  in  looking  forward 
But  whensoever  there  is  a  meeting  of  to  duties  imposed  on  him  by  his  chris- 
the  foe  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  '  tian  profession,  has  the  believer  been 
there  is  a  realization  of  the  truth  of  conscious  of  a  kind  of  shrinking  at  the 
the  promise,  .Mxj  grace  is  sujficientfor  ]  prospect!  It  has  seemed  to  him  almost 
ihee.  God  is  faithful,  who  will  not  suf-  \  hopeless  that  he  should  bear  up  under 
fer  you  to  be  tempted  above  that  ye  are  \  the  pressure  of  labor ;  that  he  should 


ON    THE    STRENRTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAINS    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


27r> 


meet  faithfully  every  claim  upon  his 
time  and  attention  ;  and  that  he  should 
discharge,  with  any  thing  of  becoming 
carefulness,  the  various  offices  with 
which  he  sees  himself  intrusted.  But 
when  he  has  reflected  on  himself  as 
simply  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of 
his  Master,  and  resolved  to  go  on  in  a 
single  dependence  on  the  helps  which 
are  promised  through  Christ,  has  not 
the  mountain  become  literally  a  plain  ; 
so  that  duties  which,  at  a  distance, 
seemed  altogether  overwhelming,  have 
proved,  when  entered  upon,  the.  very 
reverse  of  oppressive  !  And  what  shall 
we  assert  to  be  the  result  of  this  conti- 
nual experience  of  the  sufficiencies  of 
Christ,  unless  it  be  that  the  believer 
knows  whom  he  hath  believed  1  The  stone 
which  God  laid  in  Zion  becomes  to 
him,  according  to  the  prophetical  de- 
scription, a  tried  stone.  He  no  longer 
needs  to  appeal  to  the  experience  of 
others.  He  has  the  witness  ill  himself, 
and  he  can  use  the  language  which  the 
Samaritans  used  to  the  woman  who 
first  told  them  of  Christ  as  the  pro- 
phet,—  We  have  heard  him  ourselves,  and 
know  that  this  is  indeed  the-  Christy  the 
Savior  of  the  world. 

There  can  be  nothing  clearer  than 
the  connection  between  experience 
and  knowledge.  If  I  meet  difficulties 
in  Christ's  strength,  and  master  them ; 
if  I  face  enemies  in  Christ's  strength, 
and  vanquish  them  ;  if  I  undertake  du- 
ties in  Christ's  strength,  and  discharge 
them, — the  difficulties,  and  the  ene- 
mies, and  the  duties  being  such  as  I 
could  not  grapple  with  by  my  own  un- 
assisted might, — then  my  experience 
is  actually  knowledge  ;  for  experienc- 
ing Christ  to  be  faithful  and  powerful, 
I  certainly  know  Christ  to  be  faithful 
and  powerful. 

We  may  yet  further  observe,  that 
knowledge,  the  produce  of  experience, 
is  of  a  broader  extent  than  our  forego- 
ing remarks  would  appear  to  mark  out. 
The  believer  in  Christ,  if  indeed  he  live 
not  so  far  below  his  privileges  as  al- 
most to  forfeit  the  title,  must  be  one 
who,  having  felt  the  burden  of  sin, 
has  come  weary  and  heavy  laden  to 
the  Savior,  and  obtained  the  removal 
of  the  oppression  from  his  conscience  ; 
and  will  it  not  therefore  hold  good, 
that,  through  experience,  he  knows 
Christ  as  the  Lamb  of  God  which  tak- 


eth  away  the  sin  of  the  world  1  He 
must,  moreover,  be  one  who,  painfully 
alive  to  his  own  utter  inability  to  obey 
God's  law  for  himself,  has  turned  to 
Jesus  in  search  of  a  surety,  and  found, 
in  that  unvarying  faithfulness  witli 
which  he  acted  out  the  precepts  of  the 
Father,  just  that  procuring  cause  of 
acceptance  which  is  required  by  the 
fallen  ;  and  will  it  not  therefore  be 
true,  that  through  experience  he  knows 
Christ  as  the  Lord  our  Righteousness  ? 
He  must,  moreover — at  least  if  he  have 
travelled  at  all  beyond  the  very  outset 
of  the  life  of  faith — have  been  visited 
with  spiritual  trials,  and  perhaps  also 
with  temporal  j  and  he  will  have  car- 
ried his  sorrows  to  the  Redeemer,  as 
to  one  who  ca?i  be  touched  with  the  feel- 
ing of  our  infirmities^  and  he  will  have 
obtained  the  oil  and  the  wine  of  con- 
solation ;  and  will  he  not  therefore, 
from  this  his  experience,  know  Christ 
as  that  gracious  beipg  who  comforteth 
them  that  are  cast  doion,  who  bindeth  tip 
the  broken-hearted?  He  must  yet  fur- 
ther be  one  who,  conscious  that  the 
world  which  lieth  within  himself  is 
overspread  with  defilement,  and  that 
he  is  possessed  of  no  native  energy  by 
which  to  carry  purity  into  the  recesses 
of  the  heart,  has  turned  to  Jesus  in  or- 
der that  he  might  obtain  the  inworking 
of  a  holiness  which  should  fit  him  for 
heaven,  and  has  realized  the  processes  of 
an  on-going  sanctification ;  and  does  not 
then  his  experience  cause  him  to  know 
Christ  as  made  unto  his  people  wisdom, 
and  righteousness,  a?id  sanctification,  and 
redemption?  He  must,  finally,  be"one 
who,  feeling  himself  no  creature  of  a 
day,  but  sublimely  conscious  that  im- 
mortality throbbed  in  his  veins,  has 
looked  fruitlessly  on  earth  for  an  ob- 
ject which  might  fill  his  soul  ;  and  then 
fastening  upon  God  manifest  in  the 
flesh,  has  found  the  enormous  void  oc- 
cupied to  the  overflow, — and  hath  not 
then  his  experience  led  him  to  know 
Christ  as  formed  in  his  people  the  hope 
of  glory  \  We  might  extend  this  ad- 
duction of  particulars;  but  we  think 
that  what  has  been  already  advanced 
will  suffice  for  our  carrying  you  along 
with  us  in  the  conclusion,  that  where 
faith  resides,  there  must  be  experi- 
ence ;  and  that  experience,  in  natural 
course,  produces  knowledge, — nay,  ra- 
ther that  experience  is  identical  with 


276 


ON    THE    STUE.NGTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAI>'S    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


knowledge  ;  so  that  all  true  believers, 
who  have  walked  a  while  in  the  hea- 
ven-ward path,  maji-  declare  with  St. 
Paul,  /  know  whom  I  have  believed. 

And  we  would  again  press  upon  your 
attention  the  important  fact,  that  as 
faith,  being  followed  by  experience, 
will  issue  in  knowledge,  so  the  know- 
ledge thus  acquired  will  tell  back  upon 
the  faith,  and  throw  into  it  nerve  and 
stability.  We  are  persuaded  that,  by  a 
Avonderful  and  most  merciful  arrange- 
ment, God  hath  ordered  that  experi- 
ence should  grow  into  such  a  witness 
for  the  truth  of  Christianity,  that  scep- 
ticism, though  brought  forward  with 
all  that  is  pointed  in  argument  and 
splendid  in  oratory,  hath  literally  no 
likelihood  whatever  of  success,  even 
when  the  attack  is  on  a  believer  who 
has  nothing  of  human  weapon  at  his 
disposal.  If  you  sent  the  most  accom- 
plished of  infidels  into  the  cottage  of 
the  meanest  of  our  peasants,  or  into 
the  workshop  of  the  poorest  of  our  ar- 
tisans,— the  peasant,  or  the  artisan, 
being  supposed  a  true  believer  in  Christ 
— we  should  entertain  not  the  slio-htest 
apprehension  as  to  the  issue  of  a  con- 
flict between  parties  apparently  so  ill- 
matched  ;  but  on  the  contrary,  should 
await  the  result  in  the  most  perfect 
assurance,  that  though  there  might  be 
no  taking  ofl"  the  objections  of  the  in- 
fidel, there  would  be  no  overthrowing 
the  faith  of  the  believer.  Scepticism 
can  make  no  way  where  there  is  real 
Christianity;  all  its  triumphs  are  won 
on  the  field  of  nominal  Christianity. 
And  it  is  a  phenomenon  which  might, 
at  first  sight,  well  draw  our  amaze- 
ment, that  just  where  we  should  look 
for  the  least  of  resistance,  and  where 
we  should  conclude  that,  almost  as  a 
matter  of  course,  the  sophistry  of  the 
infidel  might  enter  and  carry  every 
thing  before  it — that  there  we  find  a 
power  of  withstanding  which  is  per- 
haps even  greater  than  could  be  exhi- 
bited, in  a  higher  and  more  educated 
circle — so  that  the  believing  mechanic 
shall  outdo  the  believing  philosopher 
in  the  vigor  with  which  he  repels  the 
insinuations  of  a  sceptic.  We  are  not 
arguing  that  the  mechanic  Aviil  make 
the  most  way  in  confuting  the  sceptic. 
On  the  contrary,  there  will  be  a  vast 
probability  against  his  being  able  to 
expose  the  fallacy  of  a  solitary  objec- 


tion. But  then  he  will  take  refuge  sim- 
ply in  his  experience.  He  will  not,  as 
the  philosopher  may  do,  divide  himself 
between  experience  and  argument.  If 
he  have  no  apparatus  at  his  command 
with  which  to  meet,  and  dissect,  and 
lay  bare,  a  hollow,  but  plausible  rea- 
soning, he  has  his  own  knowledge  to 
which  to  turn — and  then  the  whole 
question  lies  between  a  theory  and  a 
matter-of-fact.  His  knowledge  is  mat- 
ter-of-fact— and  argument  will  always 
be  worthless  if  it  set  itself  against 
matter-of-fact.  He  knows  whom  he  hath 
believed.  There  may  be  in  this  know- 
ledge none  of  the  elements  of  another 
man's  conviction, — but  there  is  to  him.- 
self  the  material  of  an  overpowering 
assurance.  It  might  be  quite  impossi- 
ble to  take  this  knowledge,  and  make 
it  available  as  an  argument  with  which 
to  bear  down  on  his  infidel  assailant.  Id 
is  a  visionarj/^  thing  to  his  opponent — 
but  it  is  a  matter  of  fact  to  himself. 
And  we  contend  that  in  this  lies  the 
grand  secret  of  a  poor  man's  capabi- 
lity of  resisting  the  advancings  of  in- 
fidelity. It  is  no  theory  with  him  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ.  It  is  no  speculation 
that  the  Gospel  offers  a  remedy  for 
those  moral  disorders  which  sin  hath 
fastened  on  the  creature.  He  has  not 
merely  read  the  Bible — he  has  felt  the 
Bible.  He  has  not  merely  heard  of  the 
medicine — he  has  taken  the  medicine. 
And  now,  Ave  again  say,  when  you 
would  argue  with  him  against  Chris- 
tianity, you  argue  with  him  against 
matter-of-fact.  You  argue  against  the 
existence  of  fire,  to  a  man  who  has 
been  scorched  by  the  flame  ;  and  against 
the  existence  of  water,  to  a  man  who 
has  been  drenched  in  the  depths  ;  and 
against  the  existence  of  light,  to  a  man 
who  has  looked  out  on  the  landscape  ; 
and  argument  can  make  n.o  head  when 
it  sets  itself  against  matter-of-fact. 

If  I  had  labored  under  a  painful  and 
deadly  disease, — and  if  I  had  gone  to 
a  physician — and  if  I  had  received  from 
him  a  medicine  which  brought  the 
health  back  into  my  limbs — what  suc- 
cess would  attend  the  most  clever  of 
reasoners  who  should  set  himself  to 
prove  to  me  that  no  such  being  as 
this  physician  had  ever  existed,  or 
that  there  was  no  virtue  whatsoever 
in  the  draught  which  had  wrought  in 
me  with    so    healing  an   energy!    He 


ON    THE    STRENGTH    AVHICH    FAITH    GAINS    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


277 


might  argue  with  a  keenness  and  a 
shrewdness  which  left  me  quite  over- 
matched. There  might  be  an  ingenuity 
in  his  historic  doubts  with  regard  to 
the  existence  of  the  physician ;  and 
there  might  be  an  apparent  science  in 
his  analysis  of  the  medicine,  and  his 
exposure  of  its  worthlessness ;  and  I, 
on  my  part,  might  be  quite  unable  to 
meet  him  on  his  own  ground,  to  show 
the  fault  and  the  falsehood  of  his  rea- 
soning. But  you  can  never  suppose 
that  my  incapacity  to  refute  argument 
would  lead  me  to  the  giving  up  a  mat- 
ter of  fact.  I  should  just  be  in  the  case 
of  the  man  in  the  Gospel,  to  whom 
Christ  had  given  sight,  and  whom  the 
Pharisees  plied  with  doubts,  derived 
from  the  presumed  sinfulness  of  the 
Savior,  in  regard  to  the  possibility  of 
the  miracle.  I  should  answer  with  this 
man,  only  varying  the  language,  so  that 
it  micrht  square  with  the  form  of  objec- 
tion :  Whether  he  he  a  sinner  or  no,  I 
know  not;  o?ie  thing  I  know,  that 
whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see.  And 
precisely,  in  like  manner,  a  believer, 
with  no  other  resources  at  his  dispo- 
sal, can  throw  himself  unhesitatingly 
on  his  own  experience;  and  this,  ren- 
dering Christianity  to  him  all  matter  of 
fact,  makes  him  proof  against  the  sub- 
tleties of  the  most  insidious  infidelity. 

So  that  we  require  of  you  to  learn 
from  the  subject  under  review,  that 
God  hath  woven  into  true  religion  all 
the  elements  of  a  successful  resistance 
to  cavil  and  objection,  leaving  not  the 
very  poorest,  and  the  most  illiterate  of 
his  people  open  to  the  inroad  of  the 
enemies  of  Christianity;  but  causing 
that  there  rise  up  from  their  own  ex- 
perience such  ramparts  of  strength, 
that  if  they  have  no  artillery  with 
which  to  battle  at  the  adversary,  there 
is  at  least  no  risk  of  their  own  citadel 
being  stormed. 

And  though  we  have  not  time  to  fol- 
low out  at  greater  length  the  train  of 
thought  which  this  portion  of  our  sub- 
ject originates,  we  commend  to  your 
attention,  as  worthy  of  being  most  care- 
fully pondered  over,  the  provision  which 
is  made  in  experience  against  infideli- 
ty. We  may  have  been  accustomed  to 
regard  the  evidences  of  Christianity  as 
lying  out  of  reach  of  the  poor  and  the 
illiterate  ;  and  we  may  have  looked 
with  a  peculiar  dread  on  the  descend- 


ings  of  the  agents  of  scepticism  to  the 
lower  and  less  equipped  ranks  of  soci- 
ety. And  beyond  all  question,  if  you 
just  take  the  uneducated  mass  of  our 
population,  there  is  a  far  greater  risk 
than  with  the  well  educated,  that  the 
diffusion  amongst  them  of  infidel  pub- 
lications will  issue  in  the  warping  them 
from  the  faith  of  their  fathers.  There 
may  be  something  like  stamina  of  re- 
sistance in  the  higher  and  the  middling 
classes  ;  for  if  indifferent  to  religion, 
thev  may  be  idolaters  of  reason,  and 
they  will  therefore  require  something 
better  than  worn-out  and  flimsy  objec- 
tions before  they  throw  away  as  false, 
what  has  been  handed  down  to  them 
as  true.  But  when  infidelity  goes  down, 
so  to  speak,  to  the  inferior  and  less 
cultivated  soils,  there  is  certainly  a 
fearful  probability  that  it  may  scatter, 
unmolested,  the  seeds  of  a  dark  har- 
vest of  apostacy  ;  and  that  men  who 
have  no  reason  to  give  why  they 
are  even  nominally  christians,  will  be 
wrought  upon  bj^  the  most  empty  and 
common-place  arguments,  to  put  from 
them  Christianity  as  a  scheme  of  false- 
hood and  priestcraft. 

We  are  thoroughly  alive  to  this  dan- 
ger; and  we  think  it  not  to  be  disput- 
ed, that  the  incapacity  of  the  lower 
classes  to  meet  infidelity  on  any  fair 
terms  exposes  them,  in  a  more  ordina- 
ry deofree,  to  the  risk  of  being  prevailed 
on  to  exchange  nominal  religion  for  no 
religion  at  all.  But  this,  we  would  have 
you  observe,  is  the  sum  total  of  the  risk. 
We  have  no  fears  for  any  thing,  except- 
ing nominal  Christianity.  And  though 
we  count  that  the  giving  up  even  of  no- 
minal Christianity  would  just  be  equi- 
valent to  tlie  overspreading  a  country 
with  ferocity  and  barbarism,  there  be- 
ing none  of  the  charities  of  life  in  the 
train  of  infidelity — yet  we  think  it  a 
cause  of  mighty  gratulation,  that  real 
Christianity  has  so  much  of  the  vis  in- 
ert icr  in  its  nature,  that  we  are  quit  of 
all  dread  of  its  being  borne  down  even 
in  a  wide-spread  apostacy.  Is  it  not  a 
beautiful  truth,  that  the  well  equipped 
agents  of  infidelity  might  go  succes- 
sively to  the  library  of  the  pious  theo- 
logian, and  the  hovel  of  the  pious  la- 
borer, and  make  not  one  jot  more  im- 
pression on  the  uninstructcd  subject  of 
godliness,  than  on  the  deep-read  mas- 
ter of  all  the  evidences  of  our  faith  1 


278 


0^•    THE    STREAGXn    WHICH    FAITH    GAIXS    BY    EXPERIENCE. 


Oh,  we  take  it  for  an  exquisite  proof 
of  the  carefulness  of  God  over  his 
people,  that  the  poor  cottager,  in  the 
midst  of  his  ignorance  of  all  that  ex- 
ternal witness  which  we  are  wont  to 
appeal  to  as  gloriously  conclusive  on 
the  claims  of  Christianity,  is  not  to  be 
overcome  by  the  most  subtle  or  the 
fiercest  assault ;  but  that  whilst  men  of 
a  higher  education  will  lay  empires 
and  centuries  under  a  rigid  contribu- 
tion, and  sweep  in  auxiliaries  from  the 
disclosures  of  science,  and  walk  with 
a  dominant  step  the  firmament,  gather- 
ing conviction  from  the  rich  assem- 
bling of  stars;  this  child  of  poverty, 
but  at  the  same  time  of  grace,  shall 
throw  himself  upon  himself;  and  turn- 
ing experience  into  evidence,  be  inac- 
cessible to  the  best  concerted  attack  ; 
and  make  answer,  without  flinching, 
to  every  cavil  and  every  objection,  / 
know  whom  I  have  believed.  His  faith, 
whatsoever  it  be  at  first,  becomes  soon 
a  faith  built  upon  knowledge  ;  and  then, 
if  not  skilful  enough  to  show  his  ad- 
versary wrong,  he  is  too  much  his  own 
witness  to  give  harborage  to  a  fear 
that  he  himself  is  not  right. 

But  enough  on  the  first  fact  which 
we  proposed  to  investigate,  the  fact 
that  a  believer  obtains  a  knowledge  of 
Christ.  The  second  fact  is  almost  in- 
volved in  the  first, — so  that  the  slight- 
est reference  to  truth  already  made 
out,  will  show  you  that   the   Kr<ow- 

LEDGE  THUS  OBTAINED  IS  SUCH  AS  TO  GE- 
NERATE   CONFIDENCE. 

You  observe  that,  in  the  case  of  St. 
Paul,  knowledge  was  accompanied  by 
a  most  thorough  persuasion,  that  Christ 
was  able  to  keep  safe  the  deposit  which 
he  had  given  into  his  guardianship. 
We  infer,  therefore,  that  the  know- 
ledge, since  it  produced  this  persua- 
sion, must  have  been  knowledge  of 
Christ  as  possessing  those  attributes 
which  insured  the  security  of  v.'hatso- 
ever  might  be  intrusted  to  his  custody. 
And  this  is  precisely  what  we  have 
proved  to  hold  good  in  regard  ge- 
nerally to  believers.  The  knowledge 
which  their  experience  furnishes  of 
Christ  is  knowledge  of  his  power,  of 
his  faithfulness,  of  his  love.  So  far  as 
they  have  j-et  made  trial  of  Christ, 
they  can  apply  to  themselves  the 
words  of  Joshua  to  Israel,  Not  one 
thing  hath  failed  of  all  the  good  things 


which  the  Lord  your  God  spake  concern' 
i/)g  you.  And  certainly,  if  the  result 
of  every  experiment  is  a  new  witness 
to  the  joint  ability  and  willingness  of 
the  Mediator  to  succor  and  preserve 
his  people,  you  cannot  well  avoid  the 
conclusion,  that  knowledge  must  pro- 
duce confidence;  in  other  words,  that 
the  more  a  believer  knows  of  Christ, 
the  more  persuaded  will  he  be  of  his 
worthiness  to  be  intrusted  with  all  the 
interests  of  man.  If  our  knowledge  of 
Christ  prove  to  us  that,  up  to  the  pre- 
sent moment,  Christ  hath  done  for  us 
all  that  he  hath  promised,  it  is  clear 
that  this  knowledge  must  be  a  ground- 
work for  confidence,  that  what  remains 
unfulfilled  will  be  accomplished  with 
an  equal  fidelity.  Already  has  the  be- 
liever committed  every  thing  to  Christ. 
Faith — saving  faith — whatever  other 
definitions  may  be  framed — is  best  de- 
scribed as  that  act  of  the  soul  by  which 
the  whole  man  is  given  over  to  the 
guardianship  of  the  Mediator.  He  who 
thus  resigns  himself  to  Jesus  avouch- 
es two  things  ;  first,  his  belief  that  he 
needs  a  protector  ;  secondly,  his  belief 
that  Christ  is  just  that  protector  which 
his  necessities  require.  And  though 
you  may  resolve  saving  faith  into 
more  numerous  elements,  you  will  find 
that  these  two  are  not  only  the  chief, 
but  that  they  include  all  others  out  of 
which  it  is  constituted ;  so  that  he 
who  believes  in  Christ,  gives  himself 
up  to  the  keeping  of  Christ.  And  for- 
asmuch as  experience  proves  to  him, 
that  heretofore  he  has  been  safe  in  this 
custody,  assuredly  the  acquired  know- 
ledge must  go  to  the  working  in  him.  a 
persuasion  that  hereafter  he  shall  be 
kept  in  an  equal  security. 

We  thus  trace  the  connection  be- 
tween the  knowledge  of  the  first,  and 
the  persuasion  of  the  second  part  of 
our  text.  We  show  you,  that  a  believer 
will  gather  from  his  own  experience  of 
Christ  the  material  of  confidence  in 
Christ's  ability  to  preserve  all  that  is 
committed  to  his  keeping.  Experience 
being  his  evidence  that  Christ  hath 
never  yet  failed  him,  is  also  his  earnest 
that  tlie  future  comes  charged  with  no- 
thing but  the  accomplishment  of  pro- 
mise. And  therefore  is  he  confident. 
Oh,  if  I  deceive  not  myself, — if  I  have 
actually  been  enabled,  through  the  aid 
of  God's  Spirit,  to  fasten  my  faith  up- 


ON    THE    STRENGTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAINS    BT    EXPERIENCE. 


279 


on  Him  who  died  for  me,  and  rose, 
and  lives  to  intercede, — why  should  I 
not  stay  myself  on  this  persuasion  of 
St.  Paul,  that  Christ  is  able  to  keep  that 
which  I  have  committed  unto  him  against 
that  day  ?  Soul  and  body — the  believer 
commits  both  to  the  Mediator.  The 
soul — she  must  be  detached  from  the 
tabernacle  of  flesh,  and  go  forth  alone 
on  an  unexplored  pathway.  Who  shall 
tell  us  the  awfulness  of  being  sudden- 
ly launched  into  infinity!  Who  shall 
conceive  the  prodigies  of  that  moment, 
when,  shaking  itself  free  from  the 
trammels  of  the  body,  the  spirit  strug- 
gles forth,  solitary  and  naked,  and  must 
make  its  way  across  unknown  tracts 
into  the  burning  presence  of  an  un- 
seen God]  Terrible  dissolution!  Who 
ever  saw  a  fellow-man  die  without  be- 
ing almost  staggered  at  the  thought  of 
that  mighty  journey  upon  which  the 
unclothed  soul  had  just  been  compel- 
led to  enter"?  But  shall  the  believer  in 
Christ  Jesus  be  appalled  1  Does  he  not 
know  Christ  as  having  ransomed  the 
souls  of  his  people,  washed  them  in 
his  blood,  and  covered  them  with  his 
righteousness]  Has  he  not  found  a 
witness  in  himself,  that  precious  is  his 
soul  in  the  sight  of  the  Eedeemer'? 
What  thenl  Shall  he  be  otherwise  than 
persuaded  that  Christ  will  Avatch  over 
the  soul  at  the  instant  of  separation 
from  the  body;  and  putting  forth  that 
authority  which  has  been  given  him  in 
heaven  and  earth,  send  a  legion  of 
bright  angels  to  convey  the  spirit,  and 
lead  it  to  himself?  Then  safely  lodged 
in  Paradise,  the  soul  shall  await  re- 
union with  the  body,  unspeakably, 
though  not  yet  completely  blessed.  To 
all  this  is  Christ  Jesus  pledged  ;  and 
knowing  from  his  own  experience  that 
Jesus  makes  no  pledge  which  he  does 
not  redeem,  the  believer  commits  his 
soul  to  Christ,  persuaded  that  he  is  able 
to  keep  that  which  he  hath  committed 
unto  him  against  that  day.  The  body 
— it  must  be  spoiled  of  life,  and  bound 
up  for  burial,  and  left  to  corruption.  It 
is  a  mysterious  destiny,  that  of  this 
frame-work  of  matter.  Its  atoms  may 
be  scattered  to  the  four  winds  of  hea- 
ven. They  may  go  down  to  the  ca- 
verns of  the  great  deep, — they  may 
enter  into  the  construction  of  other 
bodies.  And  certainly,  unless  there  be 
brought  to  the  agency  a  power  every 


way  infinite,  it  might  well  be  regarded 
as  an  absurd  expectation  that  the  dis- 
severed particles  should  again  come 
together,  and  that  the  identical  body, 
with  all  its  organs  and  all  its  limbs, 
which  is  broken  up  piecemeal  by  the 
blow  of  death,  should  be  re-formed  and 
re-moulded,  the  same  in  every  thing, 
except  in  the  being  incorruptible  and 
imperishable.  But  the  believer  knows 
that  there  is  a  distinct  and  solemn  pro- 
mise of  Christ  which  has  respect  to  the 
bodies  of  his  people.  /  will  raise  him 
up  at  the  last  day,  is  the  repeated  assu- 
rance in  regard  to  the  man  who  be- 
lieves upon  his  name, — so  that  the  Ee- 
deemer is  as  deeply  pledged  to  be  the 
guardian  of  a  believer's  dust,  as  of  a 
believer's  soul.  He  ransomed  matter 
as  well  as  spirit;  and  descending  him- 
self into  the  sepulchre,  scattered  the 
seeds  of  a  new  subsistence,  which,  ger- 
minating on  the  morning  of  the  judg- 
ment, shall  cover  the  globe  with  the 
vast  harvest  of  its  buried  population. 
And,  therefore,  the  believer  can  be 
confident.  Overwhelming  in  its  great- 
ness as  the  achievement  is,  it  surpasses 
not  the  energies  of  the  Agent  unto 
whom  it  is  ascribed.  Christ  raised 
himself — an  unspeakably  mightier  ex- 
ploit than  raising  me.  Can  I  not  then 
take  share  in  the  persuasion  of  St. 
Paul "?  Let  darkness  be  woven  for  my 
shroud,  and  the  grave  be  hollowed  for 
my  bed,  and  the  worm  be  given  for 
my  companion — with  thee,  0  Christ,  I 
intrust  this  body.  /  know  whom  I  have 
believed.  The  winds  may  disperse,  the 
waters  may  ingulf,  and  the  fires  may 
rarify  the  atoms  which  made  up  this 
frame  ;  hut  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liv- 
eth,  and  thotigh  after  my  skin  worms  de- 
stroy this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see 
God.  Thus,  body  as  well  as  soul,  the 
believer  commits  himself  wholly  to 
Christ, — and  experience  witnessing  to 
Christ's  power  and  Christ's  faithful 
ness,  he  can  exclaim  with  the  apostle,  / 
am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that 
■which  I  have  committed  unto  him  against 
that  day.  That  day — we  need  not  tell 
the  believer  what  daj".  His  thoucfhts 
and  his  hopes  are  on  the  second  advent 
of  his  Lord  ;  and  though  no  day  has 
been  specified,  yet  speak  of  that  day, 
and  the  allusion  is  distinctly  under- 
stood ;  the  mind  springs  forward  to 
meet  ihedescendingpompof  the  Judge, 


280 


ON    THE    STRENGTH    WHICH    FAITH    GAINS    BY    EXPERIEKCE. 


and  that  august  period  is  anticipated,  j 
Avhen,  vindicating  before  the  universe 
the  fidelity  of  his  guardianship,  Christ  : 
shall  consign  his  followers  to  glory  and  | 
blessedness ;   and,  apportioning    noble 
allotments  to  both  body  and  soul,  prove 
that  nothing  has  been  lost  of  that  un- 
measured deposit,   which,  from  Adam 
downwards  to  the  last  elect,  has  accu- 
mulated in  his  keeping. 

Oh,  that  we  all  had  the  persuasion  of 
St.  Paul!  rather — oh,  that  we  all,  like 
the  apostle,  would  resign  ourselves  to 
Christ.  Mle  to  save  to  the  uttermost, 
Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go ;  thou  hast 
the  words  of  eternal  life.  Thou  who 
hast  abolished  death,  upon  whom  else 
shall  we  suspend  our  immortality  1 
Thou  who  hast    spoiled  principalities 


and  powers,  whom  else  shall  we  take 
as  our  champion  1  whom  else  confide 
in  as  our  protector!  May  God,  bjr  his 
Spirit,  lead  you  all  to  the  one  Media- 
tor between  God  and  men, — the  man 
Christ  Jesus  :  and  may  we  all  be  en- 
abled so  completely  to  resign  ourselves 
into  the  hands  of  Christ,  that  we  may 
look  forward  wjthout  dread  to  the  hour 
of  our  departure ;  assured  that  those 
black  and  cold  waters  which  roll  in 
upon  the  dying  shall  sweep  nothing 
away  out  of  the  watchfulness  of  our 
guardian  ;  but  just  bearing  us  within 
the  sphere  of  his  peculiar  inspections, 
give  us  up  to  his  care  as  children  of 
the  resurrection, — as  heirs  of  that  in- 
heritance which  is  incorruptible  and 
undefiled. 


SERMON   I. 


JACOB'S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


And  he  dreamed,  and  behold  a  ladder  set  up  on  the  earth,  and  the  top  of  it  reached  to  heaven  :  and 
behold  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  on  it." — Genesis,  28  :  12. 


It  is  the  registered  saying  of  a  man, 
eminent  alike  for  talent  and  piety,  that 
he  had  never  found  such  strong  argu- 
ments against  the  Bible,  in  the  writings 
of  infidels,  as  had  suggested  themselves 
to  his  own  mind.  Vv'^e  are  inclined  to 
suppose  that  this  individual  expressed 
what  many  have  experienced.  We  can 
readily  believe  that  doubts  and  difficul- 
ties will  occasionally  be  presented  to 
those  who  read  the  sacred  volume  as 
the  word  of  God,  which  never  meet  the 
sceptical,  who  read  only  that  they  may 
object.  There  would  be  nothing  to  sur- 
prise us,  if  such  could  be  proved  gene- 
rally the  fact.  Where  there  is  a  spir- 
itual perception,  apparent  inconsisten- 
cies with  the  divine  character  will  be 
more  readily  detected,  than  where  there 
is  a  decided  aversion  to  all  that  is  holy. 
It  should  moreover  be  remembered, 
that  Satan  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
the  injecting  sceptical  thoughts  into 
the  mind :  and  we  may  fairly  expect 
that  he  will  so  proportion  his  attack  to 
its  subject,  as  to  suggest  the  strongest  | 
arguments  where  there  is  most  to  over-  i 
come.  The  man  who  is  studying  the  i 
Bible  with  the  express  design  of  prov-  i 
ing  it  a  forgery,  will  have  little  assist- 1 
ance,  as  it  were,  from  Satan,  in  prose- 
cuting the  attempt:  he  already  disbe- 
lieves the  Bible,  and  this  is  enough  for 
our  great  adversary,  the  devil.  But  the  ; 
man,  on  the  contrary,  who  is  studying  j 
the  Bible  as  an  inspired  book,  will  be 
continually  beset,  and  vehemently  as- 
saulted, by  Satan.  There  is  here  a 
great  object  to  be  gained,  the  shaking 
his  confidence  in  the  divine  origin  of 
Scripture  ;  and  it  may,  therefore,  well 
be  expected  that  the  devil  will  exert 
all  his  ingenuity  in  devising,  and  all  his  i 


earnestness  in  suggesting  objections. 

We  do  not  intend  to  follow  out  the 
train  of  thought  thus  opened  before 
you.  We  have  made  these  remarks  as 
introductory  to  one  which  you  may 
have  often  made  for  yourselves,  name- 
ly, that  sceptics,  as  though  blinded  and 
bewildered,  frequently  adduce,  as  ar- 
guments against  the  Bible,  what  are 
really  arguments  in  its  favor.  For  ex- 
ample, how  constantly  and  eagerly  are 
the  faults  and  crimes  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment saints  brought  forward,  and  com- 
mented on!  In  how  triumphant  a  tone 
is  the  question  proposed.  Could  these 
have  been  men  "  after  God's  own 
heart  V  Yet  certainly  it  does  not  need 
much  acuteness  to  discover,  that  the 
recording  these  faults  and  crimes  is  an 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  Holy  Writ.  A 
mere  human  biographer,  anxious  to 
pass  ofl'  his  hero  as  specially  in  favor 
with  God,  would  not  have  ascribed  to 
him  actions  which  a  righteous  God 
must  both  disapprove  and  punish.  Eve- 
ry writer  of  common  discernment  must 
have  foreseen  the  objections  which 
such  ascriptions  would  excite :  if, 
therefore,  he  had  been  only  inventing 
a  tale,  he  would  have  avoided  what 
was  almost  sure  to  bring  discredit  on 
the  narrative.  So  that  there  is  a  mani- 
festation of  honesty  in  the  register 
given  of  the  sins  of  such  men  as  Abra- 
ham, and  Jacob,  and  David,  which 
should  make  sceptics  pause,  ere  they 
seize  on  that  register  as  an  argument 
against  Scripture. 

Besides,  had  holy  men  of  old  been 
exhibited  as  faultless,  there  would  have 
been  much  to  make  us  doubt  whether 
the  history  were  faithful,  and  much  to 
discourage  us  in  our  strivings  after 
36 


282 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


righteousness.  There  has  been  but 
one  perfect  character  amongst  men, 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  and  of  him  is 
nothing  recorded  which  goes  not  to  the 
proving  that  he  was  "  holy,  harmless, 
undefiled,  and  separate  from  sinners." 
All  others  have  done  much  which  ought 
not  to  have  been  done,  and  left  undone 
much  Avhich  ought  to  have  been  done. 
And  though  we  take  no  pleasure  in  the 
faults  of  others,  w'e  may  yet  declare  it 
satisfactory  to  know  that  those  who 
have  entered  heaven,  were  not  perfect 
in  their  day  and  generation  ;  that,  like 
ourselves,  they  w^ere  "  compassed  with 
infirmities,"  often  assaulted,  and  often 
overcome  by  temptation. 

But  there  is  yet  more  to  be  said  in 
regard  to  the  registered  sins  of  men 
who  were  distinguished  by  the  favor 
of  God.  The  infidel  Avould  have  some- 
thing like  a  fair  ground  of  objection,  if 
he  could  prove  that  sins  were  allowed 
to  be  committed  with  impunity.  If,  for 
example,  he  could  show  that  David  was 
visited  with  no  chastisement  for  the 
heinous  sins  of  murder  and  adultery,  it 
would  not  be  without  reason  that  he 
impugned  the  sacred  narrative,  as  at 
variance  with  the  known  principles  of 
God's  moral  government.  But  if,  after 
the  perpetration  of  these  crimes,  the 
days  of  the  king  of  Israel  were  days, 
according  to  the  scriptural  representa- 
tions, of  unvaried  trouble  and  distress, 
it  cannot  be  said  that  the  crimes  en- 
tailed no  punishment,  and  that  there- 
fore the  history  is  opposed  to  what  we 
know  of  God's  retributive  dealings. 
Thus  again,  in  reference  to  the  trans- 
actions with  which  our  text  stands  as- 
sociated. It  is  impossible  to  justify  Re- 
bekah  and  Jacob  in  the  deceit  which 
they  practised  upon  Isaac,  that  they 
raio'lit  divert  from  Esau  the  blessing  of 
the  first-born.  Jacob,  as  you  will  re- 
member, prompted  by  his  mother  Re- 
bekah,  disguised  himself  in  the  raiment 
of  his  elder  brother  Esau,  and  thus  im- 
posed on  his  father  Isaac,  whose  eyes 
were  dim  with  age.  The  infidel  urges 
rightly,  that  there  was  great  wicked- 
ness in  this;  but  he  argues  wrongly, 
that,  since  Jacob  succeeded  in  his  fraud, 
God  is  represented  as  sanctioning  vil- 
lany.  The  whole  history,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  full  of  witness  of  God's  retri- 
butive justice.  Isaac  had  sinned  great- 
ly in  designing  to  give  Esau  the  bless- 


ing of  the  first  born  :  he  knew  that  God 
had  promised  it  to  Jacob,  and  he  was 
therefore  attempting  to  set  aside  the 
Divine  purpose  and  decree.  And  God 
not  only  frustrated  the  attempt,  but  in 
such  manner  as  signally  to  punish  the 
patriarch.  Isaac  is  deceived  by  his  own 
wife  and  son,  and  thus  chastised  with 
a  chastisement  which  must  have  been 
specially  grievous.  Rebekah,  too,  and 
Jacob,  they  both  greatly  ofiended  by 
using  an  unlawful  mode  of  preventing 
an  unlawful  design.  But  if  both  ofiend- 
ed, both  were  punished.  Jacob  was  the 
favorite  son  of  Rebekah ;  and  it  may 
have  been  a  mother's  fondness  which 
moved  her  to  secure  for  him,  at  all  haz- 
ards, the  blessing.  But  if  she  thoughs 
that  the  success  of  her  plan  w^ould  in- 
crease her  happiness,  she  Avas  greatly 
disappointed.  The  immediate  conse- 
quence of  her  success  was,  that  Jacob 
had  to  flee  from  his  father's  house,  and 
become  a  sojourner  in  a  strange  land. 
And  he  returned  not,  as  it  would  seem, 
to  his  home,  until  his  mother  was  dead  j 
so  that  Rebekah  saw  not  again  the  son 
of  her  affections.  He  were  a  strange 
calculator,  who  should  say  that  the 
mother  went  unpunished  for  her  sin, 
when,  as  its  direct  consequence,  her 
child  was  torn  from  her  embrace,  and 
not  restored  to  it  on  this  side  the  grave. 
And  as  to  Jacob,  he  indeed  gained  the 
blessing ;  and,  since  that  blessing  had 
been  promised  him  by  God,  he  w'ould 
have  equally  gained  it  had  he  left  God 
to  secure  the  fulfilment  of  his  own 
word.  But  he  was  impatient  and  fear- 
ful ;  he  used  fraud  where  lie  should 
have  exercised  faith  ;  and,  therefore, 
though  the  blessing  was  obtained,  it 
brought  with  it  sorrow  and  affliction. 
The  present  advantage  was  wholly  on 
the  side  of  Esau.  Esau  remained  in  his 
father's  house,  in  the  undisturbed  en- 
joyment of  its  comfort  and  abundance. 
But  Jacob  is  a  wanderer  :  we  find  him, 
as  described  in  the  chapter  from  which 
our  text  is  taken,  an  outcast  and  a  fu- 
gitive, with  no  couch  but  the  ground, 
and  no  pillow  but  the  stones.  Yea,  and 
in  his  after  life  how  signallj^  did  the 
even-handed  justice  of  the  Almighty 
return  to  him  the  anguish  which  he  had 
caused  to  others.  Deceived  by  Laban, 
who  gave  him  Leah,  in  place  of  Rachel 
on  whom  his  affections  were  set,  he 
was    partially   requited   for   imposing 


Jacob's  vision  and  vow. 


2S3 


v.pon  Isaac.  But  this  was  little  ;  the  i  wish,  on  the  present  occasion,  to  con- 
recompense  came  not  yet  up  to  the  of-  '  sider,  with  due  attention,  both  the  vi- 
fence.  His  own  children  deceive  him,  !  sion  and  the  vow.  The  vow  must  be 
ashe  had  deceived  his  father,  and  cheat  '  regarded  as  marking  the  effect  which 
him  into  a  belief  that  Joseph  is  dead,  the  vision  had  produced  on  the  mind  of 
And  he  must  mourn  for  Joseph,  even  the  patriarch,  and  therefore  ought  not 
as  Rebekah  had  mourned  for  himself,  to  be  excluded  from  our  subject-matter 
and  be  separated  from  him  through  of  discourse :  so  that  we  have  to  en- 
many  weary  years.  Let  any  one  read  gage  you  with  examining,  m  the  first 
attentively  the  history  of  Jacob,  and  place,  the  vision  with  which  Jacob  Avas 
observe  how  family  troubles  and  sor-  favored,  when  on  his  way  to  Padan- 
rows  continually  harassed  him  ;  and  he  aram;  and  in  the  second  place,  the  vow 
will  not,  we  think,  contend  that  the  pa-    through  which  he  expressed  the  con 


triarch  went  unpunished  for  the  fraud 
which  he  had  practised  on  Isaac. 

We  are  now,  however,  specially  con- 
cerned with  what  happened  to  Jacob, 


sequent  feelings   and  workings   of  his 
mind. 

Now  the  vision  is  related  in  our  text, 
and  the  three  following  verses.    A  lad- 


as  he  fled  from  the  face  of  his  brother  der  is  beheld,  planted  on  the  earth,  but 
Esau  ;  we  wave,  therefore,  further  re-  reaching  up  to  heaven.  Above  this  lad- 
ference  to  other  portions  of  his  histo-  der  the  Lord  is  seen  to  stand,  and  he 
ry.  We  have  already  said,  that,  in  the  addresses  Jacob  in  most  encouraging- 
chapter  before  us,  we  find  him  a  wan-  :  words.  He  declares  that  the  land  on 
derer,  hurrying,  in  fear  of  his  life,  to  ,  which  he  lay,  a  fugitive  and  an  exile, 
his  mother's  kinsman  in  Haran.  But  I  should  yet  be  given  to  himself  and  his 
though  Jacob  had  sinned,  and  was  now  ■  posterity,  and  that  his  children  should 
undergoing  the  punishment  of  his  sin,  be  multiplied  as  the  dust  of  the  earth. 
God  would  not  abandon  him,  nor  leave  The  promise  made  to  Abraham  is  then 
him  without  some  encouraging  mani-  {  solemnly  renewed :  "  In  thee  and  m  thy 
festation.  Jacob  was  to  be  Uie  deposi-  .  seed  shall  all  the  families  of  the  earth 
tary  of  the  promises  of  God,  and  through  i  be  blessed."  Jacob  is  thus  assured  that 
him  was  the  line  of  the  Messiah  to  be  he  had  indeed  obtained  the  blessing  of 
continued.  It  had  been  declared  to  '  the  first-born,  and  that  from  his  loms 
Abraham,  that  in  his  seed,  which  was  \  was  to  spring  the  great  Deliverer  of  hu- 
Isaac,  should  all  nations  be  blessed  ;  mankind.  There  are  added  general  de- 
and  of  the  two  sons  of  Isaac,  God  chose  :  clarations  that  he  should  be  under  the 
the  younger  to  be  the  ancestor  of  i  guardianship  of  God  in  his  absence 
Christ.  And  now,  when  Jacob  might  |  from  his  home  ;  and  then  the  vision  is 
be  almost  tempted  to  think  that  there  '  at  an  end,  and  Jacob  awakes,  and  ex- 
was  no  worth  in  the  blessing,  or  that,  presses  a  kind  of  awful  conviction  that 
because  gained  by  fraud,  it  was  not  ra-  |  the  Lord  Avas  in  that  place,  and  he 
tified  in  heaven,  God  is  graciously  plea-    knew  it  not. 

sed  to  vouchsafe  him  a  vision,  and  thus  i  Now  our  great  object  is  to  ascertain 
to  keep  him  from  despair  whilst  suffer-  '  the  intent  of  the  vision  :  for  we  may  be 
ing  just  punishment.  The  vision  great-  j  sure  that  the  ladder,  which  thus  reach- 
ly  cheered  the  wanderer  ;  and,  whilst  >  ed  from  earth  to  heaven,  and  along 
it  filled  him  with  apprehensions  of  the  ;  which  ascended  and  descended  the  an- 
majesty  of  God,  excited  in  him  feelings  i  gels  of  God,  Avas  emblematic  of  some 
of  gratitude  and  devotedness.  He  ac-  ;  truth  Avith  Avhich  it  AA-as  important  that 
cordingly  vowed  a  vow,  strongly  indi-  Jacob  should  be  acquainted.  \Ye  are 
cative,^  as  Ave  think,  of  a  lowly  and  \  all  aware,  that,  under  the  patriarchal 
thankful  spirit,  though  many  haA'e  en- '  dispensation,  lessons  of  the  greatest 
deavored  to  prove  from  it  that  the  pa-  ''  moment  \A^ere  given  through  significant 
triarch's  religion  AA'as  but  selfish  and  i  representations.  We  may  suppose  that 
time-serving.  "  If  God  will  be  Avith  me,  i  the  Spirit  of  God  instructed  those  fa- 
and  Avill  keep  me  in  the  Avay  that  I  go,  '  vored  with  this  mystical  revelation,  so 
and  will  give  me  bread  to  eat,  and  rai-  \  that  they  AA'ere  enabled  to  detect  the 
ment  to  put  on,  so  that  I  come  again  '  meaning  symbolically  conveyed.  It  v.-as 
to  my  father's  house  in  peace,  then  not  consistent  Avith  the  plan  of  God's 
shall  the  Lord  be  my  God."    It  is  our  ;  dealings  with  this  earth,  that  clear  and 


284 


Jacob's  vision  and  vow. 


undisguised  notices  should  be  given  of 
redemption,  whilst  the  time  of  the  Re- 
deemer's appearance  was  yet  far  re- 
moved. But  neither  would  it  have  con- 
sisted with  the  divine  mercy,  that  the 
patriarchs  should  have  been  left  whol- 
ly ignorant  of  the  deliverance  to  be 
wrought  out  in  the  fulness  of  timo,  or 
with  no  information  but  that  derived 
from  early  tradition.  And  in  order  to 
answer  both  these  ends,  the  keeping 
the  plan  concealed,  and  yet  the  nnaking 
its  nature  sufliciently  known,  God  was 
pleased  to  vouchsafe  visions,  and  com- 
mand typical  actions,  by  and  through 
which,  as  we  have  reason  to  believe, 
he  communicated  to  his  saints  such 
portions  of  truth  as  it  most  concerned 
them  to  know.  There  seems  no  reason 
to  doubt,  that  Abraham's  offering  up 
his  son  was  a  significative  transaction, 
appointed  and  employed  by  God  to 
teach  the  father  of  the  faithful  how 
the  world  would  be  redeemed.  It  is 
probable  also  that  Jacob's  wrestling 
with  an  angel,  on  the  night  which  pre- 
ceded his  meeting  with  Esau,  was  an 
instance  of  information  by  action,  the 
patriarch  being  hereby  taught  general- 
ly v.'hat  prevalence  earnest  prayer  has 
Avith  God,  and  assured  moreover  of  the 
happy  issue  of  the  dreaded  interview  of 
the  morrow.  We  think  it  fair  to  sup- 
pose, that,  in  like  manner,  the  vision 
granted  to  Jacob,  as  he  fled  from  his 
home,  was  designed  to  represent  some 
great  spiritual  truth,  and  was  itself  a 
revelation  of  some  portion  of  the  pur- 
poses of  God.  If  nothing  had  been  in- 
tended beyond  the  assuring  .Tacob  of 
divine  favor  and  protection,  the  ladder, 
with  its  attendant  circumstances,  seems 
unnecessarily  introduced;  for  the  words, 
spoken  by  God,  would  have  sufficed  to 
console  and  animate  the  wanderer.  It 
is,  therefore,  in  strict  conformity  with 
the  general  character  of  the  patriarchal 
dispensation,  and  in  accordance  with 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  Jacob, 
that  we  should  suppose  the  vision  it- 
self emblematical,  so  that,  over  and 
above  the  encouraging  things  which 
were  said,  there  was  a  great  truth 
taught  by  that  which  was  seen.  Hence 
the  question  now  is,  as  to  the  meaning 
of  the  vision  itself,  as  to  the  truths  re- 
presented by  the  mystical  ladder. 

It  has  often  been  affirmed,  that  no- 
thing more  was  designed  than  the  in- 


forming Jacob  of  the  ever-watchful  pro- 
vidence  of  the  Almighty.  We  are  not 
prepared  to  deny  that  the  image  of  a 
ladder,  reaching  from  earth  to  heaven, 
God  himself  appearing  at  its  top,  and 
angels  passing  up  and  down  in  rapid 
succession,  may  be  accommodated  to 
the  workings  of  Divine  providence  ;  in- 
asmuch as  a  constant  communication  is 
thus  represented  as  kept  up  between 
this  globe  and  higher  places  in  crea- 
tion, and  God  is  exhibited  as  carrjang 
on,  through  the  instrumentality  of  an- 
gels, unwearied  intercourse  with  the 
human  population.  And  yet,  at  the 
same  time,  we  feel  that  the  figure, 
if  this  be  its  import,  scarcely  seems 
distinguished  by  the  aptness  and  force 
which  are  always  characteristic  of 
scriptural  imagery.  The  ladder  ap- 
pears to  mark  an  appointed  channel  of 
communication:  it  can  hardly  be  said 
to  mark  that  universal  inspection  of 
the  affairs  of  this  earth,  and  that  uni- 
versal care  of  its  inhabitants,  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  understand  by  the 
providence  of  God.  Besides,  as  we 
have  already  intimated,  if  the  vision 
taught  nothing  but  that  Jacob  was  the 
object  of  divine  watchfulness  and  pro- 
tection, it  did  not  add  to  the  declara- 
tions with  which  it  was  accompanied; 
and  the  patriarch  could  gather  no  truth 
from  what  he  saw,  which  he  might  not 
have  equally  gathered  from  Avhat  he 
heard.  And  this,  to  say  the  least,  is 
not  usual  in  God's  recorded  dealings 
with  his  people  :  certainly,  every  part 
of  these  dealings  is  generally  signifi- 
cative, and  none  can  be  shown  to  have 
been  superfluous. 

We  seem  bound,  therefore,  to  apply 
the  vision  to  other  truths  besides  that 
of  the  providence  of  God.  And  when 
you  observe,  that  one  great  object  of 
the  celestial  manifestation  was  the  re- 
newing with  Jacob  the  promise  made 
to  Abraham  and  Isaac,  you  will  be 
quite  prepared  to  expect  in  the  vision 
a  revelation  of  the  iMessiah  himself. 
Jacob  had  just  secured  the  distinction 
of  being  the  progenitor  of  Christ ;  and 
God  is  about  to  assure  him,  in  the 
words  of  the  original  covenant  with  his 
fathers,  that  in  his  seed  should  all  na- 
tions be  blessed.  How  natural  then 
that  some  intelligence  should  be  com- 
municated in  regard  of  the  Christ,  so 
that,  whilst  the  patriarch  knew  himself 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


285 


the  depository  of  that  grand  promise  in 
which  the  whole  world  had  interest,  he 
might  also  know,  so  far  as  consisted 
with  an  introductory  dispensation,  what 
the  blessings  were  which  the  promise 
insured.  It  must  be  fair  to  suppose 
that  Avliat  Jacob  saw  had  an  intimate 
connection  with  what  he  heard,  and 
that  the  vision  was  intended,  either  to 
illustrate,  or  be  illustrated  by,  the  sub- 
sequent discourse.  But  there  is  no- 
thing in  the  discourse,  except  that  pro- 
mise which  had  reference  to  Christ,  on 
which  it  can  be  said  that  obscurity 
rests.  The  other  parts  have  to  do 
with  that  guardianship,  of  which  Jacob 
should  be  the  object,  and  with  the  great- 
ness of  that  nation,  of  which  he  should 
be  the  ancestor.  Hence  the  likelihood, 
if  we  may  not  use  a  stronger  expres- 
sion, is  considerable,  that  the  vision 
should  be  associated  with  the  promise 
of  the  Christ ;  and  that,  as  the  one  as- 
sured Jacob  that  the  Mediator  should 
arise  from  his  line,  the  other  emblema- 
tically informed  him  of  this  Mediator's 
person  and  work. 

We  would  add  to  this,  that  our  Sa- 
vior, in  his  conversation  with  Natha- 
nael,  used  language  Avhich  seems  un- 
doubtedly to  refer  to  the  mystic  lad- 
der on  which  the  patriarch  gazed. 
"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Here- 
after you  shall  see  heaven  open,  and 
the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  de- 
scending upon  the  Son  of  Man."  Here 
the  Redeemer  appears  to  identify  him- 
self, as  the  Son  of  Man,  with  the  lad- 
der :  the  angels  are  to  ascend  and  de- 
scend on  the  one,  even  as  they  did  on 
the  other.  We  may  find  occasion,  in 
the  sequel,  to  recur  to  this  saying  of 
Christ,  and  to  examine  it  more  at 
length.  At  present,  we  simply  adduce 
it  as  corroborating  the  opinion,  that 
the  ladder  represented  the  ^Mediator ; 
and  that,  as  Abraham  had  been  S3'm- 
bolically  taught  that  the  world  should 
be  redeemed  through  the  sacrifice  of 
a  substitute,  so  was  Jacob  now  sj'm- 
bolically  instructed  in  regard  of  that 
substitute's  nature  and  dignity. 

But,  of  course,  the  great  point  re- 
mains yet  to  be  examined,  namelj', 
whether  the  vision  in  question  fur- 
nished an  accurate  representation  of 
the  promised  deliverer.  And  here  we 
affirm  at  once,  that,  if  the  ladder  seen 
by  Jacob  be  regarded  as  a  type  of  the 


(  Mediator,  there  is  an  appositeness  in 
the  figure  M'hich  must  commend  itself 
to  all  thinking  minds.  Cut  off  by  apos- 
I  tacy  from  all  intercourse  with  what  is 
!  yet   glorious  and  undefiled  in  the  uni- 
I  verse,  the   human  race   lies   naturally 
'  in  wretchedness  and  loneliness ;  and, 
though  it  may  cast  eager  looks  at  the 
I  bright  heaven  Avhich  is  above,  has  no 
means  of  holding  communion  with  the 
I  tenants,  or  gaining  admission   to  the 
'  gladness,  of  domains  which   may   be 
privileged  with  special  manifestations 
of  Deity.    Who  of  all  our  fallen  line, 
j  is  possessed  of  a  power,  or  can  frame 
!  an  engine,  through  which  he  may  as- 
!  cend  from  a  planet  which  labors  be- 
]  neath  the  provoked  curse  of  God,  and 
I  climb  the  battlements  of  the  skv,  and 
I  achieve    entrance    mto   the  city,   into 
;  which    is    to   enter   nothing    that    de- 
'  fileth?    Who  is  there,  if  the  Almighty 
I  had  dealt  with  this  world   according 
I  to  its  iniquities,  and  left  it  in  the  ruin 
j  threatened  to  transgression,  that  could 
'  have  so  found  out  God  by  the  might 
j  of    his     reason,    and    so     propitiated 
him  by  the  might  of  his  virtue,  as  to 
I  have    renewed   the   broken    friendship 
between   the    human   and    the    divine, 
and  opened   a  clear  way  for  the  pas- 
sage of  the  earthly  to  the  heavenly"? 
All  of  you,  if  believers  in  revelation, 
know  and  admit  that  the  direct  conse- 
quence of  our  forefather's  sin  was  the 
suspension   of  all   intercourse,  except 
that  carried   on  through  the  ministry 
of  vengeance,  between  God  and  man. 
Up   to  the  moment  of  rebellion  there 
had  been  free  communion :  earth  and 
heaven   seemed   connected   by  a   path 
which    the    very   Deity    loved   to    tra- 
verse ;  for  he  came  down  to  the  gar- 
den where  our  first  parents  dwelt,  and 
held    with    them    most    intimate    con- 
verse.   But,   in    rebelling,  man    broke 
up,  as  it  were,  this  path,  rendering   it 
impracticable  that  any  should  escape 
from  the    heritage  on  which   evil  had 
gained   footing,   and   mount   to   bright 
lands  where  all  was  yet  pure.    And  we 
know  of  no  more  striking  and  accurate 
representation  of  the  condition  of  our 
race,  in  its  alienation  from  Godj  than 
that  which  should  picture  the  earth  as 
suddenly  deprived  of  every  channel  of 
communication  with  other  sections  of 
the   universe,  so  that  it  must  wander 
on  in  appalling  solitariness,  a  prison- 


286 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


house  from  which  nothing  human 
could  soar,  and  which  nothing  divine 
could  visit.  Ay,  this  was  the  earth, 
so  soon  as  Satan  had  seduced  man 
from  allegiance;  a  lonely  thing,  which 
had  snapped  every  link  which  bound 
it  to  what  was  holy  and  happy  in  cre- 
ation :  and,  as  it  bore  along  the  lost 
children  of  Adam,  they  might  have 
gazed  wistfully  on  lands  just  visible  in 
the  firmament,  and  which  they  knew 
to  be  radiant  with  the  presence  of 
their  Maker :  but  where  was  the  way 
across  the  vast  expanse,  where  the 
mechanism  by  which  they  might  scale 
the  inaccessible  heights'? 

And  undoubtedly,  if  it  be  a  just  re- 
presentation of  our  race,  in  its  fallen 
estate,  that  it  is  cut  off  from  all  inter- 
course with  God,  and  all  access  to  hea- 
ven, it  must  be  a  just  representation  of 
the  Mediator,  that  he  is  the   channel 
through  which  the  lost  communion  may 
be  renewed,  the  way  through  which 
the   lost  paradise   may  be  re-entered. 
The""world  has  not  been  left  in  its  soli- 
tariness: for  God  "hath  in  these  last 
days  spoken  unto  us  by  his  Son  ;"  and 
through  him  we  have  "access  to  the 
Father."  We  are  not  forced  to  remain 
in   our   exile   and  wretchedness :    for 
Christ  hath  declared,  "  By  me,  if  any 
man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved,  and 
shall  go  in  and  out,  and  find  pasture." 
Yea,  we  can  now  thank  the  "  Lord  of 
heaven   and   earth,"  that   the   broken 
links  have  been  repaired,  so  that  the 
severed  parts  of  creation  may  be  again 
bound  into  one  household  ;  that  a  high- : 
way  has  been  thrown  up,  along  which 
the   weary  and   heavy-laden  may  pass  . 
to  that  rest  which  remaineth  for  the  j 
people  of  God.  But  it  is  only  telling  you  i 
truths,  with  which  we  may  hope  that  I 
the  very  youngest  are  acquainted,  to  j 
tell  you  that  it  is  Christ  alone  by  whom  : 
all  this  has  been  effected,  Christ  alone  I 
through  whom  we  can  approach  God,  ' 
Christ  alone  through  whom  we  can  en- 
ter the  kingdom  of  heaven.    And  what ; 
then  more  accurate  than  a  delineation,  i 
which  should  represent  the  Mediator  I 
under  the  image  of  a  ladder,  based  on 
earth,  but  reaching  to  heaven,  and  thus  j 
affording  a  medium  of  communication  I 
between  God  and  man  1    Oh,  as  Jacob  j 
lay  upon  the  ground,  an  exile  from  his  I 
father's  house,  and  without  a  friend  or  | 
companion,  he  was  not  an  inappropri- ' 


ate  figure  of  the  human  race,  forced 
away  by  sin  from  the  presence  of  their 
Maker,  and  wiih  no  associates  to  aid 
by  their   counsel,  and   cheer  by  tlieir 
sympathy.  And  when,  in  visions  of  the 
night,  there  rose  before  the  patriarch 
the  appearance  as  of  a  ladder,  planted 
on  the  earth,  but  its  top  resting  on  the 
firmament,  then,  may  we   affirm,  was 
there  given  to  the  wanderer  the  strong- 
est assurance,  that  God  would  yet  pro- 
vide means  for  raising  the  ruined  from 
degradation,    and    gathering    into    his 
own  dwelling-place  the  banished  and 
fallen.    When,  moreover,  this  expres- 
sive emblem   of  renewed  intercourse 
between  earth  and  heaven  was  accom- 
panied by  the  voice  of  the  living  God, 
making   mention  of  the    deliverer   in 
whom   the  world  should    be    blessed, 
then  might  it  be  declared  that  the  re- 
velation was  complete,  and  that  through 
the    mystic    ladder   was    the    Gospel 
preached  to  Jacob;  for  in  this  figure 
he  could  read  that  the  seed  of  the  wo- 
man would  be  the  Mediator  between 
God   and   man,   "  the  repairer   of  the 
breach,  the  restorer  of  paths  to  dwell 
in,"  and  who,  as  "  the  way,  the  truth, 
and  the  life,"  would  "  open  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  to  all  believers." 

But  it  is  necessary  that  we  go  some- 
what more  into  particulars :  hitherto 
we  have  only  spoken  of  Christ  in  his 
mediatorinl  office,  without  referring  to 
the  mysteries  of  his  person.  The  em- 
blem, however,  of  the  ladder  is  accu- 
rate in  regard  of  the  person,  as  Avell  as 
the  work,  of  the  Redeemer.  As  the 
ladder  stretched  into  the  heavens,  and 
the  very  Deity  occupied  its  summit,  so 
Christ,  in  his  divine  nature,  penetrated 
immensity,  and  was  one  with  the  Fa- 
ther. And  as  the  ladder,  though  its  top 
was  on  the  sky,  was  set  upon  the  earth, 
so  Christ,  though  essentially  God,  took 
upon  him  flesh,  and  was  "found  in 
fashion  as  a  man."  The  ladderwould  be 
useless,  if  it  rested  not  on  the  ground, 
or  if  it  reached  not  to  the  sky:  and 
thus,  had  not  Christ  been  both  earthly 
and  heavenly,  both  human  and  divine, 
he  could  not  have  been  the  Mediator, 
through  whom  the  sinful  may  ap- 
proach, and  be  reconciled  to  their  Ma- 
ker. As  God  appeared  standing  above 
the  ladder,  looking  down  with  com- 
placency on  his  servant,  and  address- 
ing him  in  gracious  and  encouraging 


MCOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


287 


words,  so  it  is  only  in  and  through 
Christ  that  the  Father  beholds  us  with 
favor,  and  speaks  to  us  the  language  of 
forgiveness  and  friendship.  In  respect, 
moreover,  of  the  angels,  who  were  seen 
ascending  and  descending  on  the  lad- 
der, we  cannot  doubt  that  these  celes- 
tial beings,  though  they  now  attend  us 
as  ministering  spirits,  would  have  held 
no  communication  with  our  race,  had 
it  remained  unredeemed.  We  know 
that  God  is  spoken  of  by  St.  Paul,  in 
his  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  as  "ga- 
thering together  in  one  all  things  in 
Christ,  both  which  are  in  heaven,  and 
which  are  on  earth,  even  in  him  ;"  and 
again,  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Colossi- 
ans,  as  "by  him  reconciling  all  things 
to  himself,  whether  they  be  things  in 
earth,  or  things  in  heaven."  And  it 
is  evidently  the  drift  of  such  expres- 
sions, that,  by  and  through  the  media- 
tion of  Christ,  the  fellowship  of  the 
human  race  with  other  orders  of  being 
was  to  be  restored,  and  men  and  an- 
gels were  to  be  brought  into  associa- 
tion. Indeed  we  know  ourselves  in- 
debted to  the  Mediator  for  every  bless- 
ing :  if,  therefore,  we  regard  angels  as 
"the  ministers  of  God  which  do  his 
pleasure,"  and  through  whose  instru- 
mentality he  carries  on  designs,  whe- 
ther of  Providence  or  of  grace,  we  must 
feel  sure  that  we  owe  it  exclusively  to 
Christ,  that  these  glorious  creatures 
are  busied  with  promoting  our  welfare. 
And  if  then  the  continued  descent  and 
ascent  of  the  angels  mark,  as  we  sup- 
pose it  must,  their  coming  down  on 
commissions  in  which  men  have  inter- 
est, and  their  returning  to  receive  fresh 
instructions,  there  is  peculiar  fitness  in 
the  representation  of  their  ascending 
and  descending  by  a  ladder  which  is 
figurative  of  Christ :  it  is  a  direct  re- 
sult of  Christ's  mediation,  that  angels 
are  sent  forth  as  "  ministering  spirits,  to 
minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of 
salvation  ;"  and  if  then  a  ladder,  reach- 
ing from  earth  to  heaven,  be  a  just  em- 
blem of  the  Savior,  it  is  in  the  nicest 
keeping  with  this  emblem,  that,  up  and 
down  the  ladder,  should  be  rapidly  pass- 
ing the  cherubim  and  the  seraphim. 

We  would  further  observe  that  some 
writers  appear  anxious  to  prove,  that 
the  appearance,  which  the  patriarch 
saw,  was  not  precisely  that  of  a  ladder, 
but  probably  that  of  a  pyramid,  or  pil- 


lar. There  is  a  want  of  dignity,  they 
think,  in  the  image  of  a  ladder,  and 
they  would  therefore  substitute  a  more 
imposing.  But  though  many  of  the 
same  truths  might  be  taught,  if  there 
were  the  supposed  change  in  the  em- 
blem, we  are  no  ways  afl'ected  by  the 
homeliness  of  the  figure,  but  think,  on 
the  contrary,  that  it  adds  to  its  fitness. 
It  was  the  declaration  of  prophecy  in 
regard  to  the  Christ,  "  He  hath  no  form 
nor  comeliness  ;  and  when  we  shall  see 
him,  there  is  no  beauty  that  we  should 
desire  him."  And,  therefore,  if  he  is 
to  be  delineated  as  connecting  earth 
and  heaven,  we  should  expect  the  im- 
age to  be  that  of  a  ladder,  a  common 
instrument  with  nothinof  of  the  errand 
and  attractive,  rather  than  of  a  splen- 
did tower,  such  as  that  of  Babel,  which 
men  themselves  would  delight  to  rear, 
and,  when  reared,  to  admire.  Besides, 
however  we  would  avoid  the  straining 
a  type,  we  own  that  the  representation 
of  Christ,  under  the  figure  of  a  ladder, 
appears  to  us  to  include  the  most  ex- 
act references  to  the  appointed  mode 
of  salvation.  How  do  1  look  to  be 
saved  1  by  clinging  to  Christ.  How  do 
I  expect  to  ascend  up  to  heaven  I  by 
mounting,  step  by  step,  the  whole  height 
of  Christ's  work,  so  that  he  is  made  un- 
to me  of  God,  "wisdom,  and  righteous- 
ness, and  sanctification,  and  redemp- 
tion." It  is  no  easy  thing,  the  gaining 
eternal  life  through  the  finished  work 
of  the  Mediator.  It  is  a  vast  deal  more 
than  the  sitting  with  the  prophet  in  his 
car  of  fire,  and  being  borne  aloft,  with- 
out eflort,  to  an  incorruptible  inher- 
itance. "  The  kingdom  of  heaven  suf- 
fereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it 
by  force."  There  must  be,  if  we  may 
thus  express  it,  a  holding  fast  to  Christ, 
and  a  climbing  up  by  Christ :  to  look 
back  is  to  grow  dizzy,  to  let  go  is  to 
perish.  And  that  we  are  to  mount  b3r 
the  Mediator,  and,  all  the  while,  to  keep 
hold  on  the  Mediator;  that  we  are,  in 
short,  to  ascend  by  successive  stages, 
stretching  the  hand  to  one  line  after 
another  in  the  work  of  the  Redeemer, 
and  planting  the  foot  on  one  step  after 
another  in  the  covenant  made  with  us 
in  Christ — what  can  more  aptly  exhi- 
bit this,  than  the  exhibiting  Christ  as  a 
ladder,  set  upon  the  earth  that  men 
may  scale  the  heavens  1  The  necessity 
for  our  own  striving,  and  yet  the  use- 


2S8 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


lessness  of  that  striving  if  not  exerted 
in  the  right  manner;  the  impossibility 
of  our  entering  heaven  except  through 
Christ,  and  the  equal  impossibility  of 
our  entering  it,  without  etibrt  and  toil ; 
the  fearful  peril  of  our  relaxing,  for  an 
instant,  our  spiritual  vigilance  and  ear- 
nestness, seeing  that   we   hang,   as  it 
were,  between  earth  and  heaven,  and 
may  be  thrown,  by  a  moment's  care- 
lessness, headlong  to  the  ground;  the 
completeness  and  singleness  of  the  sal- 
vation which  is  in  Jesus,  so  that,  if  we 
adhere  to  it,  it  is  sufficient,  but  there 
are   no   modes  which   meet  in   it,   or 
branch  off  from  it — swerve  a  single  inch, 
and  you  have  no  footing,  but  must  be 
hopelessly  precipitated;  all  these  par- 
ticulars seem  indicated  under  the  ima- 
gery of  a  ladder,  and   could  not  per- 
haps have   been   equally  marked,   had 
some  other  emblem  been  given  of  the 
connecting  of  earth  and  heaven  by  the 
Mediator,  Christ.    And  now,  as  I  stand 
upon  the  earth,  the  child   of  a  fallen 
and  yet  redeemed  race,  and  examine  { 
how   I   may   escape    the    heritage    of  \ 
shame  which  is  naturally  my  portion,  ! 
and  soar  to  that  sky  which  woos  me 
by  its  brightness,  oh,  I  read  of  ''enter- 
ing  into   the   holiest  by  the   blood  of 
Jesus,"  and  of  "  laying  hold  upon  the 
hope  set  before  us,"  and  of  "following 
on  to  know  the  Lord,"  and  of  being 
"raised  up,  and  being  made  to  sit  to- 
gether in  heavenly  places  in  Christ," — 
expressions  which  prove  to  me,  that, 
if  I  would  reach  heaven,  it   must    be 
through  fastening  myself  to  the  Media- 
tor, and  yet  straining  every  nerve  to 
leave  the  world  behind  ;  leaning  inces- 
santly upon  Christ,  and  yet  laboring  to 
diminish  by  successive  steps  mjr  dis- 
tance from  God;  being  always  "found 
in  Christ,"  and  yet  "  led  by  the  Spirit," 
so  as  to   be   always   on  the   advance. 
But  when  I  consider  these  scriptural 
combinations  of  believing   and    work- 
ing, trusting   in  another  and  laboring 
for  one's  self,  always  having  hold  on 
Christ,  and  always  mounting  to  greater 
nearness  to  God,  always  supported  by 
the  same  suretyship  and  always  press- 
ing upward  to  the  same  point,  I  seem 
to  have  before  me  the  exact  picture  of 
a  man,  who,  with  a  steady  eye,  and  a 
firm  foot,  and  a  stanch  hand,  climbs  by 
a  ladder  some  mighty  precipice  :    he 
could  make  no  way,  whatever  his  striv- ' 


ings,  without  the  ladder,  and  the  ladder 
is  utterly  useless  without  his  own  striv- 
ings. May  we  not,  therefore,  contend, 
that,  through  the  vision  vouchsafed  to 
the  patriarch  Jacob,  God  not  only  re- 
vealed the  person  and  work  of  the  Me- 
diator, but  gave  information,  and  that 
too  in  no  very  equivocal  shape,  how 
the  Avorking  out  salvation  will  be  com- 
bined with  the  being  saved  "  freely 
through  the  redemption  that  is  in 
Christ,"  whenever  any  of  the  children 
of  men  are  raised  from  earth,  and  ele- 
vated to  heaven  1 

But  it  will  be  right  that,  before  leav- 
ing this  portion  of  our  subject,  we  re- 
cur to  our  Lord's  speech  to  Nathanael, 
which  has  already  been  quoted.  It  is 
easy  to  decide  that  Christ  designed  a 
reference  to  Jacob's  vision,  but  not  to 
determine  the  precise  meaning  of  his 
words.  "  Hereafter  ye  shall  see  hea- 
ven open,  and  the  angels  of  God  as- 
cending and  descending  upon  the  Son 
of  Man."  The  words  are  prophetic,  but 
there  is  nothing  to  inform  us  what  time 
may  be  intended  by  "  hereafter."  We 
cannot,  however,  but  think,  that  how- 
ever ingenious  may  be  the  interpreta- 
tions which  authors  have  advanced, 
nothing  has  yet  happened  which  quite 
fulfils  the  prophecy.*  We  doubt  whe- 
ther there  were  any  occurrences,  dur- 
ing Christ's  residence  on  earth,  which 
could  be  said  to  bring  to  pass  the  visi- 
ble opening  of  heaven,  and  the  ascent 
and  descent  of  angels  on  the  Mediator. 
Christ  had  not  indeed  wrought  mira- 
cles, when  he  held  his  interview  with 
Nathanael;  and  he  may  have  referred 
to  the  demonstrations  of  almightiness, 
which  he  was  about  to  put  forth,  and 
which  would  as  much  prove  his  divine 
majesty,  as  though  he  were  surrounded 
with  troops  of  angels.  But  it  can  hard- 
ly be  said  that  such  an  explanation  as 
this  is  commensurate  with  the  passage. 
We  know  not  what  to  call  far-fetched, 
if  we  may  not  so  designate  the  state- 
ment, that  those  who  saw  Christ  work 
miracles,  saw  heaven  opened,  and  the 
angels  of  God  ascending  and  descend- 
ing on  the  Savior.  We  may  add  that 
there  were  circumstances  attending 
the  crucifixion,  resurrection,  and  as- 
cension of  Jesus,  which  may  be  con- 
sidered as  having  partially  accomplish- 

*  See  King's  Morsels  of  Criticism. 


Jacob's  vision  and  vow 


289 


ed  the  words  under  review.  Angels 
appeared  in  connection  with  these  se- 
veral events,  and  the  firmament  was  at 
length  opened  to  receive  the  ascending 
conqueror.  But  here  we  must  again 
say,  that  the  interpretation  comes  ma- 
Rifestly  so  far  short  of  the  scope  of  the 
passage,  that  nothing  but  inability  to 
lind  another  meaning  can  make  us  con- 
tent with  one  so  contracted. 

For  our  own  part,  then,  we  cannot 
but  believe  that  the  prophecy  has  not 
yet  received  its  full  accomplishment. 
We  refer  it  onward  to  times,  of  which 
indeed  our  apprehensions  are  indis- 
tinct, but  not  on  that  account  less  ani- 
mating. We  have  abundant  reason  for 
believing  that  days  are  to  break  on  this 
creation,  such  as  have  never  yet  visited 
it  since  man  rebelled  against  his  Maker. 
We  read  of  "  new  heavens  and  a  new 
earth,"  as  though  the  whole  material 
system  were  to  be  splendidly  renova- 
ted, and  of  the  creature  itself  also  be- 
ino"  "  delivered  from  the  bondage  of 
corruption,"  as  though  animate  and  in- 
animate were  to  reach  one  general  ju- 
bilee. And  when  there  shall  have  been 
effected  this  magnificent  rebuilding  of 
all  that  has  been  shattered,  this  hang- 
ing with  new  majesty,  and  enamelling 
with  fresh  beauty,  the  creation  wherein 
we  dwell;  and  when,  in  its  every  de- 
partment, our  globe  shall  be  tenanted 
by  "  a  holy  priesthood,  a  peculiar  peo- 
ple;" then,  for  any  thing  we  can  tell, 
may  such  intercourse  be  opened  be- 
tween the  earth  and  other  sections  of 
the  universe,  as  shall  give  an  ampler 
meaning  than  has  yet  been  imagined 
to  the  vision  of  Jacob,  and  the  words 
of  Christ.  It  is  a  fine  saying  of  the 
Psalmist,  "  God  setteth  the  solitary  in 
families."  And.  it  may  be  one  of  the 
verifications  of  this  saying,  that  worlds 
which  have  hitherto  moved,  each  in  its 
own  orbit,  each  left  in  its  solitariness, 
shall  have  channels  of  communication 
the  one  with  the  other,  so  that  one 
mighty  familj'-  shall  be  formed  of  or- 
ders of  being  which  have  never  yet 
been  brought  into  visible  association. 
We  cannot  pretend  to  speak  with  any 
certainty  of  events  and  times,  of  which 
we  have  only  obscure  intimations.  But 
at  least,  unable  as  we  are  to  apply  the 
words  under  review  to  any  thing  that 
has  already  occurred,  we  may  lawfully 
connect  them  with  what  is  yet  future, 


and,  by  associating  them  with  other 
predictions,  gain  and  give  additional 
illustration.  And  by  following  this  plan 
in  the  present  instance,  we  seem  war- 
ranted in  stating  the  high  probability, 
that,  in  glorious  days  when  Christ's 
kingdom  will  be  visibly  reared  on  the 
wreck  of  human  sovereignty,  there  will 
be  open  and  brilliant  intercourse  be- 
tween dwellers  on  this  earth  and  Jiigh- 
er  ranks  of  intelligence.  Then  may  it 
come  to  pass  that  Jacob's  ladder  will 
be  shown  to  have  represented  the  bring- 
ing into  blessed  communion  all  the 
ends  of  creation;  and  then  may  the 
Mediator,  in  some  manner  unimagina- 
ble now,  appear  as  the  channel  through 
which  communion  is  maintained.  Ay, 
and  then,  in  some  stupendous  unveil- 
ing of  the  secrets  of  the  universe,  and 
in  some  sublime  manifestation  of  him- 
self as  the  connecting  link  between  all 
departments  of  the  unlimited  house- 
hold, may  Christ  explain,  and  make 
good,  the  yet  mysterious  saying,  "  Here- 
after ye  shall  see  heaven  open,  and  the 
angels  of  God  ascending  and  descend- 
ing upon  the  Son  of  Man." 

But  we  turn  now  from  the  vision  to 
the  vow  of  Jacob ;  from  the  consider- 
ing what  the  patriarch  saw  and  heard, 
to  the  examining  the  effect  thereby 
wrought  upon  his  mind.  We  have  no 
intention  of  entering  at  length  into  all 
that  is  related  of  the  conduct  of  Jacob, 
when  he  awaked  out  of  sleep.  We  wish 
to  confine  ourselves  strictly  to  his  vow  j 
for  it  is  against  this  that  objections 
have  been  urged  by  infidel  writers.  Ja- 
cob sets  up  for  a  pillar  the  stone  which 
had  served  him  as  a  pillow  ;  and,  hav- 
ing poured  oil  upon  it,  so  as  to  dedi- 
cate it  to  God,  vows  avow — "if  God 
will  be  with  me,  and  will  keep  me  in 
the  way  that  I  go,  and  will  give  me 
bread  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on,  so 
that  I  come  again  to  my  father's  house 
in  peace,  then  shall  the  Lord  be  my 
God."  He  adds — but  it  is  not  neces- 
sary that  we  touch  on  this  — that  the 
erected  stone  should  be  the  house  of 
the  Lord,  and  that,  of  all  which  God 
gave  him,  he  would  consecrate  the 
tenth. 

Now  it  is  urged  that  there  is  some- 
thing very  mercenary  and  sclfi^^h  in 
this:  Jacob  is  represented  as  making 
a  kind  of  bargain  with  God,  so  that  he 
will  serve  him  only  on  condition  of  a 
37 


290 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


recompense.  If  my  bodily  wants  be 
all  supplied,  the  Lord  shall  be  my 
God ;  as  much  as  to  say,  if  I  am  left  in 
destitution,  I  will  abandon  all  religion. 
We  hold  it  exceedingly  unfair  and  dis- 
ingenuous thus  to  wrest  .Jacob's  vow. 
We  are  sure  that  no  candid  mind  can 
put  on  it  the  interpretation  that  Jacob 
was  a  time-server,  careful  of  religion 
only  so  far  as  it  seemed  likely  to  pro- 
mote his  temporal  interests.  On  the 
contrary,  we  are  persuaded  that,  if  you 
consider  the  vow  without  prejudice, 
you  will  find  it  expressive  of  great  hu- 
mility and  gratitude.  God  had  just 
entered  into  covenant  with  Jacob,  en- 
gaging to  bestov/  privileges  which 
would  make  him  conspicuous  amongst 
men.  God  had  just  told  him,  that  the 
land  on  which  he  lay  sliould  become 
the  inheritance  of  himself  and  his  chil- 
dren ;  and,  as  though  this  were  little, 
that  in  him,  and  in  his  seed,  should  all 
families  of  the  earth  be  blessed.  Jacob 
was  thus  assured  that  he  should  be  the 
father  of  a  great  nation,  yea,  and  that 
from  him  should  descend  the  Benefac- 
tor and  Redeemer  of  mankind.  These 
were  splendid  promises;  we  could 
scarcely  have  marvelled,  had  the  pa- 
triarch, on  awaking  from  his  sleep, 
manifested  great  elation  of  mind  at  the 
dignities  to  which  he  was  appointed. 
Knowing  how  difficult  it  is  to  bear 
greatness  meekly,  we  could  not  have 
wondered  had  he  vowed  as  his  vow.  If 
indeed  God  will  accomplish  his  word, 
and  bestow  on  me  the  things  of  which 
he  has  spoken,  I  will  take  him  as  my 
God,  and  serve  him  faithfully  all  the 
days  of  my  life.  And  had  this  been 
Jacob's  vow,  there  might  have  been 
color  for  the  opinion,  that  the  patri- 
arch was  mercenary  in  his  religion. 
Had  he  made  his  serving  God  contin- 
gent on  his  obtaining  what  would  ren- 
der him  mighty  and  illustrious,  it  would 
have  been  with  some  show  of  fairness 
that  men  accused  Jiis  piety  of  being 
sordid  and  selfish.  But  when,  in  place 
of  speaking  of  lordship  over  the  land 
of  Canaan,  and  of  being  the  ancestor 
of  Messiah,  he  simply  asks  for  bread  to 
eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on,  the  bare 
necessaries  of  life,  with  none  of  its  su- 
perfluities ;  those,  we  think,  must  be 
resolved  to  find  fault,  who  can  see  in 
.Jacob's  conduct  the  indications  of  a 
religion  which   looked  at  nothing  but 


recompense.  The  only  just  interpreta- 
tion which  can  be  put  upon  his  vow, 
appears  to  us  the  following  :  Jacob  is 
quite  overpowered  by  the  manifesta- 
tions of  God's  favor,  which  had  just 
been  vouchsafed,  and  sinks  under  the 
sense  of  his  own  utter  unworthiness. 
Who  is  he,  a  wanderer  on  account  of 
his  sin,  that  the  Almighty  should  enter 
into  covenant  with  him,  and  promise 
him  whatever  was  most  noble  in  hu- 
man allotment  1  Oh,  he  seems  to  say, 
it  was  not  needful  that  promises  such 
as  these  should  have  been  made,  in  or- 
der to  my  feeling  bound  to  the  service 
of  God.  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  least 
of  all  his  mercies  ;  and  I  required  not, 
as  I  deserved  not,  the  being  signalled 
out  from  other  men,  to  make  me  strong 
in  my  resolve  of  obedience.  If  he  will 
but  grant  me  the  commonest  food,  and 
the  simplest  clothing,  I  shall  be  satis- 
fied ;  it  will  be  more  than  I  have  a  right 
to  ask,  and  will  bind  me  to  him  as  my 
maker  and  benefactor.  He  has  indeed 
promised  to  restore  me  safely  to  my 
father's  house,  so  that  I  shall  not  perish 
in  the  exile  which  my  offence  has  pro- 
cured; and  if  he  do  this,  and  thus 
make  good  his  word,  I  shall  account  as 
nothing  the  having  to  struggle  with 
hardship  and  want ;  there  will  be  given 
me  a  clear  token  that  I  am  under  the 
protection  of  an  ever-vigilant  guardian, 
and  whom  but  this  guardian  shall  I  take 
for  my  God  1 

We  have  no  hesitation  in  stating  that 
such  seems  fairly  the  import  of  Jacob's 
vow.  Jacob  is  not,  so  to  speak,  bar- 
gaining with  God  :  he  is  only  over- 
come by  the  display  of  Divine  good- 
ness, and  abashed  by  the  consciousness 
how  little  it  was  deserved.  Can  the 
vow  be  called  mercenary,  when  he  only 
asked  a  bare  subsistence,  though  the 
promise  had  included  territory  and  do- 
minion? Jacob,  after  all,  merely  asked 
life;  and  he  asked  it  merely  that  he 
might  devote  it  to  God.  Does  this  sa- 
vor of  the  spirit  of  a  hireling  1  Can  this 
be  declared  indicative  of  a  resolution 
to  treat  religion  as  a  mere  matter  of 
profit  and  loss,  and  to  cultivate  piety 
no  further  than  God  would  give  him 
riches  in  exchange!  We  are  persuaded 
that  you  cannot  thus  characterize  the 
vow  of  the  patriarch.  We  stated,  in- 
deed, at  the  commencement  of  our  dis- 
course,  that  we  had  right  to  expect 


JACOB  S    VISION    AND    VOW. 


that  the  faults  of  saints  would  be  re- 
corded :  if,  therefore,  the  vow  of  Ja- 
cob were  what  it  has  been  maliciously 
represented,  we  should  have  only  to 
lament  another  proof  of  the  frailty  of 
the  best,  and  to  point  out  another  evi- 
dence of  the  honesty  of  the  historian. 
But  we  are  not  to  allow  the  faults  to  be 
exaggerated.  When  holy  men  trans- 
gressed, and  yielded  to  temptation,  it 
is  not  for  the  interest  of  truth  that  we 
should  defend  or  extenuate  their  con- 
duct. But  where  the  charge  against 
them  is  disingenuous  and  unfounded, 
it  is  our  duty  to  expose  the  unfairness 
of  the  attack,  and  vindicate  the  accu 


291 

must  indeed  be  vastly  inferior,  in  al 
the  elements  of  dignity  and  happiness-, 
to  that  which  will  succeed  the  general 
resurrection.  Yet  it  may  not  be  a  state 
of  listlessness,  nor  one  whose  privilege 
consists  in  mere  repose.  The  soul,  by 
her  own  organs,  may  gaze  on  what  is 
glorious,  and  gather  in  what  is  inspirit- 
ing. For  if,  whilst  the  body  was  wrap- 
ped in  slumber,  and  the  soul  left  alone 
in  her  Avakefulness,  Jacob  could  behold 
earth  linked  with  heaven,  and  the  bright 
array  of  angels,  and  the  majesty  of  Dei- 
ty ;  and  hearken  to  a  Divine  voice  which 
brought  him  animating  tidings;  we  may 
well  be  persuaded  that,  when  separated 


sed.    And  men  may  perversely  find,  if:  from  matter  by  death,  our  spirits  shall 


they  v»'ill,  the  marks  of  a  sordid  and 
mercenary  temper  in  the  declaration, 
that  Jacob  would  take  the  Lord  for  his 
God,  if  he  had  bread  to  eat,  and  rai- 
ment to  put  on  :  but  when  the  circum- 
stances of  the  patriarch  are  taken  into 
account,  when  what  he  asks  of  God  is 
set  in  contrast  with  what  God  had  en- 
gag^ed  to  bestow,  candid  reasoners  must 

DO  ^  J 

admit  that  his  lansruaofe  is  that  of  hu- 
mility,  rather  than  of  a  hireling,  and 
find  in  it  the  expression  of  gratitude 
and  thankfulness,  rather  than  of  a  co- 
vetous and  time-serving  disposition. 

There  is  but  another  remark  which 
we  would  make  before  winding  up  our 
subject  of  discourse.  We  learn  from 
such  narratives  as  this  of  Jacob's  vi- 
sion, how  possible  it  is  that  the  soul 
may  enjoy  great  happiness,  and  gain 
vast  accessions  of  knowledge,  in  what 
is  called  the  separate  state.  It  is,  you 
observe,  whilst  Jacob  is  asleep,  and 
therefore  not  to  be  communicated  with 
through  his  bodily  senses,  that  God 
shows  him  the  heavens  opened,  and 
speaks  to  him  of  great  things  to  come. 
And  this  is  a  fine  testimony  to  the  ca- 
pacity of  the  soul,  when  detached  from 
the  body,  for  receiving  notices  of  the 
invisible  world,  and  holding  converse 
with  spiritual  beings.  When  I  have 
laid  aside  this  corruptible  flesh,  my 
soul — if  indeed  I  "sleep  in  Jesus" — 
will  pass  into  a  condition  of  peace  and 
tranquillity,  and  there  await  the  trum- 
pet-peal which  is  to  call  forth  as  her 
residence  a  glorified  body.  But  there 
is  no  necessity  that  the  soul  should  be 
inactive,  or  contracted  in  her  enjoy- 
ments, because  stripped  for  a  while  of 
material  organs.  The  intermediate  state 


be  capable  of  intercourse  with  God,  and 
of  grasping  much  of  the  magnificence 
of  the  future.  If  they  cannot  mount 
the  whole  height  of  the  ladder,  they 
may  yet  look  on  in  its  stateliness,  and 
admire  the  celestial  troop  by  which 
it  is  traversed,  and  receive  from  the 
Lord  God,  the  mysterious  emblems 
of  whose  presence  crown  its  summit, 
intelligence  of  the  things  which  the 
eye  hath  not  seen,  and  the  ear  hath 
not  heard. 

But  now  we  address  you,  in  conclu- 
sion, as  beings  confined  for  a  while  to 
a  narrow  and  inconsiderable  scene,  but 
whose  home  is  far  away,  in  those  re- 
gions of  light  where  Deity  is  specially 
manifested,  and  where  the  angel  and 
the  archangel  have  their  abode.  We 
point  you  to  the  everlasting  hills,  whose 
glorious  and  gold-lit  summits  come  out 
to  the  eye  of  faith  from  the  mighty  ex- 
panse ;  and  we  tell  you  that  those  hills 
must  be  climbed.  We  point  you  to  "a 
city  which  hath  foundations,"  the  "Je- 
rusalem which  is  above:"  we  show  you 
its  stupendous  walls  stretching  inter- 
minably upward  ;  and  we  tell  you  that 
these  walls  must  be  scaled.  And  you 
are  staggered  at  the  greatness  of  the 
demand.  How  can  we  ascend  hills 
which  are  not  based  on  this  earth;  how 
surmount  walls,  of  which  no  eye  can 
take  the  altitude  ?  We  lead  you  with 
us  to  Bethel,  and  bid  you  behold  that 
on  which  the  patriarch  gazed.  There 
is  a  ladder,  set  up  on  the  ground,  but 
its  top  reaches  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  and  to  the  gate  of  the  city. 
Are  you  willing  to  go  up,  to  leave  the 
prison,  and  to  seek  the  palace?  Then, 
in  the  name  of  the  living  God,  we  bid 


292 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


you  plant  the  foot  on  the  first  step  of 
this  ladder  :  forsake  evil  courses,  break 
away  from  evil  habits,  and  take  part 
with  the  disciples  of  Christ.  Christ 
casteth  out  none  who  come  unto  him  : 
and  he  who  strives  to  turn  from  his  ini- 
quities at  the  call  of  his  Savior,  is  be- 
ginning to  lay  hold  on  that  propitiation, 
through  the  grasping  of  which  in  its 
several  parts  he  will  be  gradually  raised 
to  the  blessedness  of  immortality.  Are 
you  afraid  of  trusting  yourselves  to  this 
ladder  1  Thousands,  in  every  age,  have 
gone  up  by  it  to  glory;  and  not  a  soli- 
tary individual  has  found  it  give  way 
beneath  him,  however  immense  the  bur- 
den of  his  sins.  And  why  afraid  (  The 
ladder  is  He  who  is  "able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost"  all  who  would  go  unto  God 
through  him;  and  the  angels  are  as- 
cending and  descending  upon  it,  for 
they  have  charge  over  the  righteous  to 
keep  them  in  all  their  Avays ;  and  the 
Almighty  himself  looks  down  on  those 
who  are   climbing  painfully  upwards, 


that  he  may  send  them  succor  when 
the  hand  is  relaxing  and  the  foot  falling. 
I  can  answer  for  it,  that  every  one  of 
you  may,  if  he  will,  mount  by  this  lad- 
der, seeing  that  Christ  took  human  na- 
ture, and  thus  united  earth  and  heaven, 
as  the  substitute  of  all.  I  can  answer 
for  it,  that  none  who  strive  to  mount 
by  this  ladder  shall  fail  of  everlasting 
life  ;  for  those  who  believe  on  Christ 
can  never  perish,  neither  shall  any 
pluck  them  out  of  his  hand.  The  ca- 
nopy of  the  sky  seems  lined  with  the 
''cloud  of  witnesses."  Those  who  have 
gone  before  are  bidding  us  climb, 
through  the  one  Mediator,  to  their  lofty 
abode.  We  come,  we  come.  Your  call 
shall  be  obeyed.  Your  voices  animate 
us,  as  they  steal  down  in  solemn  and 
beautiful  cadence.  And  God  helping, 
there  shall  not  be  one  of  us  who  does 
not  seek  salvation  through  the  blood 
and  righteousness  of  Jesus;  not  one 
who  shall  not  share  with  you  the  throne 
and  the  diadem. 


SERMON  II. 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


But  Jesus  answered  them,  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work." — St.  John,  5:17. 


It  is  a  very  peculiar  argument  which 
Christ  here  employs,  to  disprove  the 
charge  of  having  broken  the  Sabbath. 
We  will  refer,  for  a  few  moments,  to 
the  context,  that  you  may  understand 
the  drift  and  force  of  the  reasoning. 
Christ  had  healed  the  impotent  man, 
who  had  lain  for  a  long  time  by  the 
pool  of  Bethesda.  He  had  bidden  him 
take  up  his  bed,  and  walk ;  and  the 
cripple  was  immediately  enabled  to 
obey  the  command.  It  was  on  the  Sab- 
bath-day that  this  great  miracle  was 
wrought  J  and  the  circumstance  of  the 


man's  carrying  his  bed  through  the 
streets,  attracted  the  notice  of  those 
who  were  jealous  for  the  ceremonial 
law.  They  taxed  the  man  with  doino- 
what  it  was  not  lawful  to  do  on  the 
Sabbath  :  he  justified  himself  by  plead- 
ing the  direction  of  the  Being  by  whom 
he  had  been  healed.  This  led  to  an  in- 
quiry as  to  the  author  of  the  miracle; 
and  so  soon  as  the  Jews  had  ascertain- 
ed that  it  was  Jesus,  they  persecuted 
him,  and  "  sought  to  slay  him,  because 
he  had  done  these  things  on  the  Sab- 
bath-day."  In  order  to  show  them  the 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


293 


unreasonableness  of  their  conduct,  and 
to  prove  that  he  had  authority  for  what 
he  had  done,  Christ  made  use  of  the 
words  of  our  text,  words  by  which  he 
seemed  to  the  Jews  to  claim  essential 
Divinity,  however  modern  objectors 
may  fail  to  find  in  them  such  assump- 
tion. You  read  that,  so  soon  as  Christ 
had  said,  "  My  Father  worketh  hither- 
to, and  I  work,"  his  enemies  took  a  new 
ground  for  seeking  his  death.  "There- 
fore the  Jews  sought  the  more  to  kill 
him,  because  he  not  only  had  broken 
the  Sabbath,  but  said  also  that  God  was 
his  Father,  making  himself  equal  with 
God." 

It  is  very  observable,  that  the  Jews 
considered  Christ  as  claiming  actual 
equaljiy  with  God — a  plain  indication, 
we  think,  that  such  was  the  meaning 
which  his  words  bore.  The  contempo- 
raries of  the  Savior,  addressed  by  him 
in  their  native  tongue,  were  more  like- 
ly to  perceive  the  true  sense  of  what 
he  said  than  ourselves,  who  receive  his 
discourses  in  a  dead  language.  At  all 
events,  supposing  that  the  Jews  mis- 
took his  meaning,  what  can  be  said  of 
his  not  correcting  the  mistake  I  So 
soon  as  he  knew  that  they  were  enraged 
at  him  for  a  supposed  violation  of  the 
Sabbath,  he  entered  on  his  vindication, 
and  sought  to  prove  the  charge  ground- 
less. But  did  he  do  any  thing  similar 
when  he  knew  himself  accused  of  "ma- 
king himself  equal  with  God?"  The 
charge  was  far  heavier.  If  Christ  had 
been  only  a, creature,  a  mere  man  like 
one  of  ourselves,  it  would  have  been 
nothing  short  of  blasphemy  had  he  pro- 
claimed himself  "  equal  with  God."  We 
may  be  sure,  therefore,  that  if  the 
Jews  had  been  wrong  in  inferring  from 
Christ's  words  a  claim  to  divinity,  they 
would  not  have  been  suffered  to  con- 
tinue in  error.  We  may  be  sure,  we 
say,  of  this ;  for  even  those  who  are 
most  earnest  in  contending  that  Christ 
was  only  man,  allow  that  he  was  a  good 
man,  and  no  deceiver :  they  are  not 
ready  to  accuse  him  of  uttering  blas- 
phemy, or  of  being  wholly  indifferent 
as  to  what  construction  might  be  put 
upon  his  words.  Yet  it  is  very  certain, 
that,  when  Christ  knew  himself  charg- 
ed with  making  himself  "  equal  with 
God,"  he  attempted  no  denial,  but  spake 
in  terms  which  must  have  confirmed  the 
Jews  in  the  inference  which  they  had 


drawn  from  our  text.  We  find  him  im- 
mediately afterwards  saying,  "  What 
things  soever  the  Father  doeth,  these 
also  doeth  the  Son  likewise," — words 
which,  in  place  of  contradicting  the 
supposition  that  he  meant  to  declare 
himself  every  way  divine,  admit  no 
consistent  interpretation,  unless  the 
power  of  the  Son  be  precisely  the 
same  with  that  of  the  Father.  And  thus 
it  would  appear,  either  that  it  was  a 
true  inference  which  the  Jews  drew 
from  our  text,  when  they  concluded 
that  Christ  affirmed  himself  equal  with 
God  ;  or  that  Christ,  when  he  knew 
the  interpretation  put  upon  his  words, 
took  no  pains  to  defend  himself  against 
the  charge  of  blasphemy,  but  made 
statements  which  rather  went  to  prove 
the  charge  just. 

We  do  not  well  see  how  the  deniers 
of  Christ's  divinity  are  to  extricate 
themselves  from  this  dilemma.  The 
Redeemer  had  used  words,  which  the 
Jews  interpreted  into  a  claim  of  equa- 
lity with  God.  The  interpretation  was 
either  correct  or  incorrect.  If  correct, 
Christ  meant  to  declare  himself  divine, 
and  there  can  be  no  debate  that  he  actu- 
ally was.  If  incorrect,  then  Christ,  who 
was  not  silent  under  a  charge  of  Sab- 
bath-breaking, would  not  have  been  si- 
lent under  a  charge  of  the  worst  pos- 
sible blasphemy  :  at  least,  he  would  not 
have  countenanced  the  charge,  by  using 
more  of  the  same  suspicious  language. 
Hence  the  only  fair  conclusion  seems 
to  be,  that  the  Jews  had  put  the  right 
construction  on  our  text ;  and  that 
Christ  actually  designed  to  assert  his 
proper  deity,  when,  in  order  to  prove 
that  he  had  not  broken  the  Sabbath  by 
healing  on  that  day,  he  said,  "  My  Fa- 
ther worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work." 

Indeed  we  know  not  what  force  there 
would  be  in  the  argument,  on  any  sup- 
position but  that  of  Christ's  being  equal 
with  God.  The  accusation  against 
Christ  was,  that  he  had  broken  the 
Sabbath  by  working  a  miracle.  How 
does  he  meet  the  charge!  Simply  by 
saying,  "My  Father  worketh  hitherto, 
and  I  work,"  But  what  answer,  what 
apology  is  this  I  There  is  an  answer, 
and  there  is  an  apology,  on  the  suppo- 
sition that  Christ  was  God,  but  not  on 
any  other.  God,  though  he  had  ceased 
from  creating,  was  continually  occu- 
pied in  sustaining  and  preserving,  so 


294 


THK    CONTINtJED    AGENCY    OF    THE    FATHER    AND    THE    SON. 


that  he  performed  works  of  mercy  on 
tlie  Sabbath-day,  as  well  as  on  every 
other,  making  his  sun  to  shine  on  the 
evil  and  the  good,  and  his  rain  to  de- 
scend on  the  just  and  the  unjust.  And 
if  Christ  were  God,  then,  in  curing  the 
impotent  man  on  the  Sabbath,  he  had 
only  exercised  the  prerogative  of  Dei- 
ty, and  continued  what  had  been  his 
practice  from  the  very  beginning  of  the 
world.  The  Jews,  therefore,  might  as 
well  have  objected,  that  God  brake  his 
own  ordinance  by  those  actings  of  his 
providence  which  took  place  without 
respect  of  days,  as  that  Christ  had  vio- 
lated the  Sabbath  by  healing  the  sick. 
But  if  Christ  were  not  God,  we  know 
not  what  right  he  had  to  refer  to  what 
God  did,  and  thereby  to  attempt  his 
own  vindication.  Unquestionably,  the 
practice  of  the  Creator  could  not  right- 
ly be  quoted  in  proof,  that  a  mere  crea- 
ture might  do  what  he  thought  fit  on 
the  Sabbath  :  it  did  not  follow  that  be- 
cause the  Creator  worked  on  the  Sab- 
bath, the  creature  might  lawfully  work: 
this  would  be  placing  the  creature  on  a 
level  with  the  Creator  ;  for  it  would  .be 
claiming  the  same  privileges  for  the 
two,  the  same  superiority  to  all  au- 
thority and  command.  But  if  Christ 
were  more  than  a  creature,  if  he  were 
Ivimself  the  Creator,  the  argument  was 
strong  and  conclusive  :  in  healing  the 
sick,  he  did  but  assert  the  independence 
which  belonged  to  him  as  God,  and  act 
as  he  had  all  along  acted,  whilst  busied 
with  upholding  the  universe.  Thus  the 
Jews  attached  to  Christ's  words  the 
only  meaning  which,  we  think,  they 
will  bear,  when  considered  as  furnish- 
ing the  reason  why  he  might  lawfully 
cure  on  the  Sabbath.  The  reason  was, 
that,  being  himself  God,  he  might  act 
as  God,  and  therefore  work  on  all  days 
alike.  But  the  moment  you  throw  doubt 
on  the  fact  of  his  being  God,  the  reason 
disappears,  and  our  text  contains  only 
the  presumptuous,  and  even  blasphe- 
mous insinuations,  that  a  creature  might 
lawfully  guide  himself  by  the  actions 
of  the  Creator,  without  regard  to  his 
positive  commands. 

But  we  will  not  insist  at  greater 
length  on  the  argument  furnished  by 
our  text  and  its  context  in  support  of 
the  divinity  of  Christ.  We  have  proba- 
bly said  enough  to  convince  you,  that 
this  argument  is  of  more  than  common 


strength  ;  inasmuch  as,  in  interpreting 
the  passage  as  containing  a  claim  to 
divinity,  we  advance  only  the  interpre- 
tation which  was  put  upon  it  by  the 
Jews,  and  which  Christ  allowed  to  pass 
without  censure,  nay,  which  he  even 
confirmed  by  his  subsequent  discourse. 
We  will  now,  however,  wave  further 
reference  to  the  circumstances  which 
occasioned  the  delivery  of  the  text; 
and,  assuming  your  belief  in  that  fun- 
damental article  of  Christianity,  the  di- 
vinity of  Christ,  proceed  to  examine 
the  assertions  which  are  made  in  re- 
gard both  of  the  Father  and  the  Son. 
We  have  only  to  premise,  that  our  Sa- 
vior must  be  understood  as  speaking 
in  his  character  of  Mediator,  the  being 
who  had  united  in  his  person  tKe  di- 
vine nature  and  the  human.  Jt  was  not 
altogether  as  God,  but  rather  as  God- 
man,  that  he  had  healed  the  cripple, 
who  had  vainly  waited,  year  after  year, 
by  the  pool  of  Bethesda.  The  miracles 
which  Jesus  wrought  were  desifjned  as 
credentials,  by  which  his  authority,  as  a 
teacher  sent  from  God,  might  be  clearly 
established.  Hence  in  working  a  mira- 
cle, he  is  to  be  considered  as  acting  in  his 
mediatorial  capacity,  carrying  forward 
that  great  undertaking  on  which  he  had 
entered  so  soon  as  man  transgressed. 
Hence,  when  he  justifies  his  perform- 
ing a  miracle  on  the  Sabbath,  by  say- 
ing, "  My  Father  worketh  hitherto,  and 
I  work,"  he  is  to  be  regarded  as  af- 
firming tnat  the  mediatorial  office  had 
been,  and  was  to  be,  discharged  with 
that  uninterrupted  activity  which  mark- 
ed the  Creator's  providential  dealings. 
It  might  not  perhaps  have  been  a  suffi- 
cient vindication  of  the  act  which  had 
excited  the  anger  of  the  Jews,  that  he 
who  wrought  it  was  God,  and  therefore 
not  bound  by  such  an  ordinance  as  that 
of  the  Sabbath.  Christ  had  assumed  the 
nature  of  man,  and  voluntarily  brought 
himself  under  the  law.  It  did  not,  there- 
fore, necessarily  follow,  that  he  had  a 
right  to  do,  as  man,  whatever  it  was 
his  prerogative  to  do  as  God.  But  as 
God-man,  or  Mediator,  he  might  be 
called  on  for  the  same  continued  exer- 
cise of  energy  as  that  by  which  the 
Creator  sustained  the  work  of  his 
hands.  And  this  it  is  which  he  must 
be  supposed  to  affirm — even  that,  as 
the  Father,  as  the  universal  upholder, 
had  been  occupied  from  the  first  with 


THE    CONTINUED    AGENCY    OF    THE    FATIIEK    AND    THE    SON. 


295 


providential  operations,  so  had  the  Son 
been  actively  employed  from  the  first 
in  his  Mediatorial  capacity  ;  and  that, 
in  the  one  instance,  as  well  as  in  the 
other,  the  work  proceeded  without  re- 
spect of  days. 

But  this  will  be  better  understood  as 
we  advance  with  our  discourse.  We 
shall  consider  the  text  as  affirming-,  in 
the  first  place,  the  continual  working 
of  the  Father  ;  in  the  second  place,  the 
continual  working  of  the  Son  ;  and  we 
shall  strive  so  to  speak  of  each,  as  to 
prove  the  words  "profitable  for  doc- 
trine, and  instruction  in  righteousness." 

Now  there  is,  perhaps,  in  all  of  us 
a  tendency  to  the  substituting  second 
causes  for  the  first,  to  the  so  dwelling 
on  the  laws  of  matter,  and  the  opera- 
tions of  nature,  as  to  forget,  if  not  de- 
ny, the  continued  agency  of  God.  If 
our  creed  were  to  be  gathered  from 
our  common  forms  of  speech,  it  might 
be  concluded  that  we  regarded  nature 
as  some  agent  quite  distinct  from  dei- 
ty, having  its  own  sphere,  and  its  own 
powers,  in  and  with  which  to  work. 
We  are  wont  to  draw  a  line  between 
what  we  call  natural,  and  what  super- 
natural; assigning  the  latter  to  an  infi- 
nite power,  but  ascribing  the  former  to 
ordinary  causes,  unconnected  with  the 
immediate  interference  of  God.  But  is 
not  our  philosophy  as  defective  as  our 
theology,  so  long  as  we  thus  give  ener- 
gy to  matter,  and  make  a  deity  of  na- 
ture 1  We  do  not  believe  that  it  would 
furnish  any  satisfactory  account  of  the 
thousand  beautiful  arrangements,  dis- 
coverable in  the  visible  creation,  to  say 
that  matter  was  endued  with  certain 
properties,  and  placed  in  certain  rela- 
tions, and  then  left  to  obey  the  laws 
and  perform  the  revolutions  originally 
impressed  and  commanded.  This  is 
ascribing  a  permanence,  as  well  as  a 
power,  to  second  causes,  for  which  it 
seems  to  us  as  unscientific  as  it  cer- 
tainly is  unscriptural  to  contend.  We 
do  not  indeed  suppose  that  God  exerts 
any  such  agency  as  to  supersede  the 
laws,  or  nullify  the  properties  of  mat- 
ter;  but  we  believe  that  he  is  continu- 
ally acting  by  and  through  these  laws 
and  properties  as  his  instruments,  and 
not  that  these  laws  and  properties  are 
of  themselves  effecting  the  various  oc- 
currences in  the  material  world.  What 
is  that  nature,  of  which  we  rashly  speak. 


but  the  Almighty  perpetually  at  work? 
What  are  those  laws  of  matter,  to 
which  we  confidently  appeal,  and  by 
which  Ave  explain  certain  phenomena, 
but  so  many  manifestations  of  infinite 
power  and  intelligence,  proofs  of  the 
presence  and  activity  of  a  being  who 
produces,  according  to  his  own  will, 
"All  action  and  passion,  all  perma- 
nence and  change  V*  I  count  it  not 
owing  to  inherent  powers,  originally 
impressed,  that  year  by  year  this  globe 
walks  its  orbit,  repeating  its  mysterious 
march  round  the  sun  in  the  firmament  ; 
I  rather  reckon  that  the  hand  of  the 
Almighty  perpetually  guides  the  plan- 
et, and  that  it  is  through  his  energies, 
momentarily  applied,  that  the  ponder- 
ous mass  effects  its  rotations.  1  do  not 
believe  it  the  result  of  properties, 
which,  once  imparted,  operate  of  them- 
selves, that  vegetation  goes  forward, 
and  verdure  mantles  the  earth  :  I  ra- 
ther believe  that  Deity  is  busy  Avith 
every  seed  that  is  cast  into  the  ground, 
and  that  it  is  through  his  immediate 
agency  that  every  leaf  opens,  and  every 
flower  blooms,  1  count  it  not  the  con- 
sequence of  a  physical  organization, 
the  eflect  of  a  curious  mechanism, 
which,  once  set  in  motion,  continues 
to  work,  that  pulse  succeeds  to  pulse, 
and  breath  follows  breath  :  I  rather  re- 
gard it  as  literally  true,  that  in  God 
"  we  live  and  move,  and  have  our  be- 
ing," that  each  pulse  is  but  the  throb, 
each  breath  the  inspiration  of  the  ever- 
present,  all-actuating.  Divinity. 

Away  with  the  idolatry  of  nature. 
Nature  is  but  a  verbal  fiction,  invent- 
ed to  keep  out  of  sight  the  unwearied 
actings  of  the  great  First  Cause.  The 
Bible  ascribes  to  God  the  preserva- 
tion, and  not  only  the  production,  of  all 
things.  The  Levites,  when  Nehemiah 
had  proclaimed  a  solemn  fast,  thus 
poured  forth  their  confession  of  the 
greatness  of  God,  "Thou,  even  thou, 
art  Lord  alone  :  thou  hast  made  hea- 
ven, the  henven  of  heavens,  with  all 
their  host ;  the  earth,  and  all  things 
that  are  therein ;  the  seas,  and  all  that 
is  tiierein  ;  and  thou  freservest  them 
all,  and  the  host  of  heaven  worship- 
peth  thee."  The  Apostle,  when  preach- 
ing the  true  God  to  the  idolatrous 
Athenians,  declared,  "  He  giveth  to  all 

'  WliewcU.  Biidgow ater  Tn-aiise. 


296 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


life  and  breath,  and  all  things."   There 
is  scarcely  a  natural  production,  or  oc- 
currence, which  we  do  not  find  refer- 
red, in  some  part  or  other  of  tlie  Bible, 
immediately   to    the   agency  of  God. 
He  it  is,  if  we  believe  the  statements 
of  Holy  Writ,  who  maketh  the  sun  to 
arise,  and  the  rain  to  descend.    He  it 
is,   saith  the  Psalmist,  ''  who  maketh 
grass  to  grow  upon  the  mountains." 
"  He  giveth  snow  like  wool;  he  scat- 
tereth    the    hoar-frost     like     ashes." 
^'  When  he  uttereth  his  voice,  there  is 
a  multitude  of  waters  in  the  heavens  ; 
he   maketh   lightnings  with  rain,  and 
bringeth   forth   the    wind    out    of   his 
treasures."    These    are    the    terms  in 
which  inspired  writers   speak    of    the 
agency  of  God  ;  terms  which  seem  de- 
cisive on  the  fact,  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  in  the  material  universe  as  the 
working  of  second  causes,  without  the 
interference  of  the  first ;  but  that  the 
Divine  Being,  though  he  have  ceased 
from  creating,  is  momentarily  engaged 
in   actuating   and   upholding    the   vast 
system  which  he  originally  constructed. 
And  if,  though  he  have  instituted  laws, 
and    communicated    properties,    these 
laws  and  properties  are  but  instruments 
in  God's  hands,  by  and  through  which 
he  effects  the  results  and  calls  forth  the 
productions  which  Vv'e  are  wont  to  refer 
to  natural  causes — yea,  if  each  planet,  as 
it  turns  on  its  axis  and  traces  out  its  orbit 
is  moved  by  his  hand  ;  if  his  breath  be  in 
every  gale,  his  glance  in  every  beam,  his 
voice  in  every  sound  ;  if  his  be  the  ve- 
getable power  which  makes  the  valleys 
thick  with  corn,  his  the  pencil  which 
traces  beauty  on   the  flowers,  his  the 
strength  which  marshals  the  elements, 
bis  the  wisdom  which  provides  for  all 
animated    being  ;    who    will    not    own 
that  so  universal  and  uninterrupted  an 
agency  is  exercised  by  God,  as  bears 
out,  in  its  largest  signification,  the  de- 
claration of  Christ,  "  Hitherto  my  Fa- 
ther worketh  1" 

We  go  on  to  observe,  that  it  is  not 
only  in  the  material  universe  that  there 
is  the  perpetual  and  immediate  agency 
of  God.  We  know  that  God  has  re- 
vealed himself  as  a  moral  governor, 
having  all  orders  of  intelligent  being  as 
his  subjects,  employing  them  in  his 
service,  and  taking  cognizance  of  their 
actions.  And  it  is  a  mighty  field  of  em- 
ployment which  is  thrown  open  before 


us,  when  we  thus  view  in  God  the  Gov- 
ernor as  well  as  the  Creator.    If  we  li- 
mit our  thoughts  to  our  own  globe  and 
race,  how  immense  is  the   occupation 
with  which  we  suppose  Deity  charged. 
To  observe  every  motion  of  the  human 
will,  and  make  it  subserve  his  own  pur- 
poses; to  note  whatsoever  occurs,  and 
register  it  for  judgment;  to  instigate 
to    every   good   action,   and   overrule 
every  bad, — this  is  the  business,  if  we 
may  use   the  word,  Avhich  belongs  to 
the  Moral    Governor ;    a    business    in 
which  there   cannot  have   been  a  mo- 
ment's  cessation    since  the    first   man 
was  made,  and  in  which  there  will  not 
be  a  pause  till  the  last  man  hath  died. 
You  are  to  add  to  this,  that,  with  re- 
spect to  every  one  of  us,  the  occupa- 
tion is  just  as   individual  as   though 
there  were  none   other  upon   earth  to 
engage    the     watchfulness   of    Deity. 
"  Thou    understandest,"    saith   David, 
"  my  thought  afar  off."  "  There  is  not 
a  word  in  my  tongue,  but  lo,  O  Lord, 
thou  knowest  it  altogether."     "  Thou 
tellest  my   wanderings  :  put  thou  my 
tears  into  thy  bottle  ;  are   they  not  in 
thy  book  1"    It  is  certainly  the  repre- 
sentation  of  Scripture;    a  representa- 
tion, of  which   it  is  hard  to  say  whe- 
ther it  more  surprises  us  by  the  view 
which   it   gives    of    the   unsearchable 
greatness  of  God,   or    delights   us  by 
the    exquisite   tenderness  of  which  it 
proves  us  the  objects  ;  that  no  calamity 
can  befall  the  meanest  amongst  us,  no 
anxiety  disquiet  him,  no  joy  cheer  him, 
no   prayer   escape   him,  of  which   our 
heavenly  Father  is  unobservant,  or  iu 
which  he  takes  no  immediate  concern. 
We  are  directed  to  ask  him  for  our  dai- 
ly bread  ;  we  are  bidden  to  cast  all  our 
care  upon  him  ;  we  are  assured  that  he 
will  wipe  away  our  tears;  we  are  told 
that  he  is  a  present  help  in  every  time 
of  trouble  ;  that  "  this  poor  man  cried, 
and   the   Lord   heard    him;"  that  "he 
healeth  the  broken  in  heart,  and  bind- 
eth  up  their  wounds." 

We  will  not  now  insist  on  tlie  un- 
measured condescension  and  compas- 
sion which  such  directions  and  assuran- 
ces indicate.  Wc  wish  to  fasten  your 
attention  on  that  inconceivably  vast 
employment  which  is  hereby  attributed 
to  the  Almighty.  We  are  showing  you 
God,  as  the  God  of  all  the  families  of 
the  earth,  exercising  over  the  whole 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OP  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


297 


extent  of  the  human  population  a  watch-  [ 
fulness  which  nothing-  can  escape,  and 
a  carefulness  which  nothing  can  wea- 
ry. He  has  to  give  audience  every  mo- 
ment to  unnumbered  beings,  who  lay 
before  him  the  expressions  of  their 
wants  and  desires;  and  every  moment 
he  has  to  minister  to  the  necessities  of 
unnumbered  others,  who  live  upon  his 
bounty,  and  yet  yield  him  no  worship. 
It  is  not  by  day  alone,  it  is  not  by  night 
alone,  it  is  not  at  stated  seasons  alone, 
but  perpetually  as  well  as  universally, 
at  every  instant,  in  every  land,  in  every 
household,  in  everj'-  heart,  that  the  Al- 
mighty must  be  busy  :  busy,  wherever 
there  is  life,  in  ministering  animation  ; 
wherever  there  is  death,  in  dismissing 
the  spirit  5  wherever  there  is  righte- 
ousness, in  producing  it ;  wherever 
there  is  wickedness,  in  controlling  it ; 
wherever  there  is  sorrow,  wherever 
there  is  peace,  wherever  there  is  sup- 
plication, in  sanctifying,  bestowing,  re- 
ceiving. We  know  not  where  to  find 
terms  in  which  to  set  forth  to  you  what 
we  may  dare  to  call  the  industry  of 
Deity.  But  if  you  can  number  the  ac- 
tions which  are  daily  wrought  upon 
the  earth,  the  words  which  are  spoken, 
the  thoughts  which  are  thought,  the 
tears  which  are  shed,  the  joys  which 
are  felt,  the  wishes  which  are  breath- 
ed, then  you  number  the  occupations 
with  which  this  single  creation  fur- 
nishes the  Creator  ;  for  with  every  the 
most  minute  and  insignificant  of  these 
he  has  a  close  and  immediate  concern  ; 
either  causing,  or  overruling,  or  mode- 
rating, or  answering. 

And  is  it  not  then  true  that  there 
must  be  an  activity  in  God,  which  is, 
at  least,  as  wonderful  as  aught  else 
which  reason  and  revelation  concur  in 
ascribing  to  him  1  We  have  spoken  on- 
ly of  a  solitary  globe,  inhabited  by  be- 
ings who  have  been  made  "  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels,"  But  there  are 
worlds  upon  worlds,  scattered  through- 
out immensity,  each,  it  may  be,  the 
home  of  life  and  intelligence.  And  all 
tliat  inconceivable  employment,  which 
is  furnished  to  God  by  a  single  pro- 
vince of  his  infinite  empire,  is  probably 
but  an  inconsiderable  fraction  of  that 
total  of  occupation  which  is  devolved 
upon  him  as  the  ruler  and  upholder  of 
"thrones  and  dominions,  and  princi- 
palities and  powers,"  the  end  as  well 


as  the  origin  of  all  that  is,  the  guar- 
dian, the  refuge,  the  life,  of  every  crea- 
ture in  every  spot  of  unlimited  space. 
The  human  mind  shrinks  from  the 
effort  to  compass  the  multitudinous 
transaction.  And  it  is  not  the  business 
of  a  day,  or  a  year,  or  a  century.  If  we 
follow  the  leadings  of  science, — lead- 
ings which  seem  not  the  less  trust- 
worthy, because  only  the  fragments  of 
a  shell,  or  the  footprints  of  an  insect, 
may  have  guided  her  along  the  path  of 
discovery, — we  find  dates  graven  on 
the  visible  universe,  which  seem  to 
prove  that,  thousands  of  ages  back,  in 
periods  too  remote  for  the  flight  of  all 
but  imagination,  there  were  systems 
and  beings  to  engage  the  unremit- 
ted attention  of  the  Creator;  just  as, 
throughout  the  coming  eternity,  my- 
riads upon  myriads  will  hang  momen- 
tarily on  his  support.  Oh,  it  were  to  be 
as  God,  to  comprehend  what  God  has 
to  do  !  But  this  we  may  safely  say,  that 
if,  as  the  protector  and  moral  gover- 
nor of  whatsoever  he  hath  formed,  the 
Almighty  be  observant  of  all  the  ac- 
tions of  all  his  intelligent  creatures  ;  if 
he  inspect  every  heart,  record  every 
motive,  supply  every  Avant,  hear  every 
petition,  appoint  every  judgment,  em- 
ploy every  instrument, — and  this  too 
in  every  section  of  an  unmeasured  do- 
minion,— then  all  must  acknowledge 
the  truth  of  the  simple  but  sublime 
statement  of  Christ,  ''Hitherto  my  Fa- 
ther worketh." 

We  have  now,  in  the  second  place, 
to  consider  what  our  Savior  here  af- 
firms of  himself:  he  associates  himself 
with  the  Father  in  the  perpetual  work- 
ing of  which  he  speaks  :  "  My  Father 
worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work."  We 
may  suppose  that  Christ  partly  refer- 
red to  that  perfect  union  of  will  and 
operation  which  subsists  among  the 
persons  of  the  Trinity,  and  which  makes 
them  to  be  not  more  one  in  nature  than 
in  purpose.  When  St.  Paul,  in  writing 
to  the  Hebrews,  had  described  the  Son 
as  "  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glo- 
ry, and  the  express  image  of  his  per- 
son," and  had  thus  assigned  him  the 
honors  of  Godhead,  he  went  on  to 
speak  of  him  as  '*  upholding  all  things" 
by  the  word  of  his  power,"  and  thus 
attributed  to  him  that  continued  agen- 
cy on  which  we  have  discoursed  as 
characteristic  of  Deity.    It  might  then 


298 


THE    CONTINUED    AGENCY    OF    THE    FATHEIi    AND    THE    SON, 


have  been  a  sufficient  explanation  of 
our  text,  if  uttered  by  Christ  in  his  di- 
vine capacity,  to  have  referred  to  that 
oneness  which  there  is  among  the  per- 
sons of  the  Trinity,  and  to  have  con- 
cluded from  it  that  "  what  things  so- 
ever the  Father  doeth,  these  also  doeth 
the  Son  likewise."  But  we  have  alrea- 
dy stated  that  it  was  in  the  discharge 
of  his  mediatorial  office  that  Christ 
had  wrought  a  miracle  on  the  Sabbath  ; 
and  that  it  must  therefore  have  been  as 
the  Savior,  rather  than  as  the  Creator 
of  the  world,  that  he  spake,  when  af- 
firming his  own  continued  agency. 
This  opens  before  us  a  most  interest- 
ing truth  ;  for  Christ  exhibits  himself 
as  having  been  all  along  occupied  with 
redeeming,  just  as  the  Father  had  been 
with  preserving  mankind.  In  his  me- 
diatorial capacity,  for  in  this  he  now 
spake,  he  had  not  been  inactive  up  to 
the  time  of  his  incarnation,  as  though, 
until  the  Word  were  made  flesh,  there 
had  been  nothing  to  be  done  on  behalf 
of  transgressors.  On  the  contrary,  there 
had  been  the  same  uninterrupted  agen- 
cy as  is  exercised  by  God,  as  Creator 
and  Governor  of  the  universe,  so  that 
the  one  perpetual  action  might  be 
paralleled  by  the  other,  "My  Father 
worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work." 

We  speak  of  this  as  a  most  interest- 
ing, though  well-known  truth,  which 
it  would  be  for  our  profit  frequently 
to  ponder.  It  hath  pleased  God,  Avho 
"  worketh  all  things  after  the  counsel 
of  his  own  will,"  to  place  men  beneath 
various  dispensations,  commanding  du- 
ties, and  enjoining  observances  pecu- 
liar to  each.  We  have  but  faint  traces 
of  patriarchal  religion;  but  we  know 
that,  whilst  the  world  was  yet  young, 
and  evil  only  of  recent  introduction, 
God  held  intercourse  with  the  fathers 
of  humankind,  and  instructed  them  as 
to  the  mode  in  which  he  would  be  wor- 
shipped. It  would  seem  that  he  went 
on  revealing  his  purposes,  with  greater 
and  greater  distinctness,  to  a  favored 
few,  until  he  separated  one  people  from 
the  rest  of  the  world,  and  made  them 
the  depositary  of  truth.  And  then  he 
gradually  imposed  on  this  people  an  as- 
semblage of  mystical  rites,  and  taught 
ihem  by  a  succession  of  prophets  and 
seers — every  instituted  ordinance  con- 
veying a  new  lesson,  and  every  inspir- 
ed messenger  adding  a  fresh  leaf  to  the 


volume  of  knowledge.  This  dispensa- 
tion had  its  period;  and  then,  the  ful- 
ness of  time  having  at  length  arrived, 
the  Jewish  temple,  with  its  mysterious 
shadows  and  sacramental  treasures,  de- 
parted from  the  scene,  and  a  new  order 
of  things  was  introduced  by  Christ  and 
his  apostles. 

To  those  who  take  only  a  cursory 
survey  of  the  dealings  of  God,  it  might 
seem  as  though  there  had  been  no  same- 
ness in  these  various  dispensations,  but 
that  difTerent  modes  of  obtaininar  the 
divine  favor  had  been  prescribed  in  dif- 
ferent ages.  They  may  not  perceive 
that  close  connection  between  the  pa- 
triarchal, Jewish,  and  Christian  reli- 
gions, that  uniformity  in  the  appointed 
method  of  salvation,  which  is  apparent 
on  attentive  inspection,  and  affirmed  by 
the  whole  tenOr  of  the  Gospel.  There 
is  abundant  demonstration,  both  from 
express  statements  of  Scripture,  and 
from  the  nature  of  each  successive  dis- 
pensation, that,  from  the  first,  men 
recovered  the  forfeited  immortality 
through  the  suretyship  of  the  everlast- 
ing Word  ;  that,  from  the  first,  in  every 
age  and  every  land,  it  hath  been  equal- 
yltrue  that  there  "  is  none  other  name 
under  heaven,"  but  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ,  "  given  among  men,  whereby 
we  must  be  saved."  There  were  vast 
differences  in  the  degrees  in  which 
Christ  was  made  known;  but,  all  along, 
there  was  but  one  Savior,  and  that  one, 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  The  early  patriarch, 
vv'ho  assembled  his  family  round  some 
rude  altar,  built  at  God's  command,  on 
the  mountain,  or  in  the  valley,  and 
there  offered  the  firstlings  of  his  flock ; 
the  Jew  in  Egypt,  sprinkling  his  door- 
posts with  the  blood  of  the  Paschal 
Lamb,  or  in  the  wilderness,  following 
the  pillar  of  fire  and  cloud ;  his  chil- 
dren, settled  in  Canaan,  thronging  to  a 
magnificent  temple,  v/ith  the  blast  of 
silver  trumpets,  and  the  floating  of 
incense,  and  the  pomp  of  a  splendid  ' 
priesthood, — these  were  all,  notwith- 
standing the  striking  differences  in  ex- 
ternal circumstance,  seeking  the  salva- 
tion of  the  soul  through  the  same  chan- 
nel as  ourselves,  to  whom  the  Gospel 
is  preached  in  its  beauty  and  fulness. 
We  find  it  said  of  Abraham,  that  he  re- 
joiced to  see  Christ's  day;  that  he  saw 
it,  and  was  glad.  We  read  of  Isaiah, 
that  he  "  saw  Christ's  glory,  and  spake 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


299 


of  him."    We  are  told  of  Moses,  that 
he  "  esteemed  the  reproach  of  Christ 
greater  riches  than  all  the  treasures  of 
Egypt."  And  does  not  St.  Peter,  speak- 
ing of  the  righteous  men  who  had  ob- 
tained justification  under  the  law,  use 
this  remarkable  expression  :  ''  We  be- 
lieve   that   through   the    grace  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  be  saved 
even  as  they  1"  an  expression  which  puts 
it  beyond  controversy,  that,  from  the 
earliest  days,  there  had  been  but  one 
mode    of   salvation ;    and   that,    when 
there  appeared  on  the  earth  the  "  one 
Mediator  between  God  and  man,"  no 
new  way  was  opened  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven ;  there  was    only  poured  a 
flood    of   glorious    light    on    the   path 
which  had  been  trodden  by  good  men 
under  every  dispensation.    It  were  al- 
most to  quote  the  whole  Bible  to  pro- 
duce, if  we  may  use  such  expression, 
the  footprints  of  a  Mediator  which  are 
discernible  along  the  line  of  the  patri- 
archal and  legal  economy.    "  To  Him 
give  all  the  prophets  witness."    He  it 
was  whom  seers  beheld,  when  the  train 
of  future  things  swept  before  them  in 
mysterious  procession.   He  died  in  eve- 
ry sacrifice  ;  he  ascended  in  every  cloud 
of  incense;  his  name  was  in  every  ju- 
bilee shout;  his  majesty  in  the  awful- 
ness  of  the  holy  of  holies. 

And  if  it  be  true  that  Christ  was  a 
Savior  as  well  before  as  after  his  in- 
carnation ;  that,  at  the  very  instant  of 
human    aposlacy,   he    entered    on    his 
great  ofhce  ;  and  that  he  hath  labored 
in  its  discharge,  whensoever  there  was  ! 
a  soul  to  be  saved;  must  it  not  be  al- j 
lowed  that  there  was  demanded  as  un-  { 
interrupted  an   activity  from  the  Re-  I 
deemer,    as   from    the    Upholder   and  | 
moral  Governor  of  the  universe  1    As  ! 
soon  as  there  was  sin,  there  was  salva-  j 
tion — salvation  through  Christ.   And  if  i 
there  were  salvation,  there  must  have  j 
been   the  interference  and   agency   of 
the   Savior,  who  anticipating  his  pas-  j 
sion  and  death,  must  have  acted  as  an  j 
advocate    with    God,    presenting    the  ' 
virtues  of  his  own  sacrifice,  and  thus  j 
averting   from   the    guilty   the    doom  [ 
they    had   deserved.     We    know   not  j 
whether  many,  or  whether  only  few, 
were   gathered  in  early  days  into  the 
kingdom   of  heaven.    But   the    deter- 
mining this  is  not  material  to  our  be- 
ing certified  of  the  incessant  occupa- 


tion  with   which    the    Mediator   was 
charged.    Enough  that  he  had  to  act 
as  Mediator  ;  and  we  might  almost  say 
that  he  had  the  same  amount  of  labor, 
whether  men  were  saved,  or  whetiier 
they  perished.     Who  shall  doubt  that 
Christ    has  toiled   for   a    lost   soul,  as 
well  as  for  a  rescued — toiling  through 
the  striving  of  his  Spirit,  and  with  the 
shedding  of  his  blood,  though  he  have 
not  won  from  unrighteousness  the  be- 
ing with  whom  he  hath  pleaded,  and 
for  whom  he  died  (    He  had  been  busy, 
not  only  with  the  eight  who  were  en- 
closed in  the  ark,  but  with  the  thou- 
sands  upon    thousands   who  wrestled 
vainly  with  the  deluge.    He  had  been 
busy,  not   only  with  those  among   the 
Jews  who  died   in   faith,  but  with  the 
great  body  of  the  people,  who  trusted 
in  ceremonies,  and  put  shadow  for  sub- 
stance.   He  had  been  busy,  not  only 
with  this  single  and  isolated  nation, 
but  with  those  vast  masses  of  human- 
kind who  had  only  the  feeble  notices  of 
truth  derivable  from  tradition  and  con- 
science.   He  had  been  busy  with  ma- 
king men  inexcusable,  chargeable  alto- 
gether with  their  own  condemnation, 
when  he  could  not  prevail  on  them  to 
deny   ungodliness   and  worldly   lusts, 
and  give  themselves  in  good  earnest 
to  the  seeking  their  God.    Thus  every 
human   being    had  furnished  employ- 
ment to  the  Mediator,  as  well  as  to  the 
Creator.  The  individual  had  not  sprung 
of  Adam's  line,  who  had  not  drawn  the 
notice,  and  engaged  the  operations  of 
the   Surety  of  the  fallen,  even  as   he 
had  been  watched  by  the  Providence 
which  is  about  our  path,  ancl  about  our 
bed,  and  spieth  out  all  our  ways.    And, 
therefore,  might  the  uninterrupted  ac- 
tivity of  a  Redeemer  be  spoken  of  in 
the  same  terms  with  that  of  the  uni- 
versal    Guardian    and     Governor — no 
pause   in  the    one   any  more   than  in 
the  other,  no  moment  of  idleness,  no 
interval  of  repose — and    Christ   could 
employ  the  present  tense  in  speaking 
not  only  of  the  Father's  operations, 
but  of  his  own,  just  as  he  could  apply 
to  himself  the   sublime  definition,  "  I 
am  that  I  am ;"   and  say  to  the  Jews 
when  they  arraigned  him  for  healing 
on  the  Sabbath,  "  My  Father  worketh 
hitherto,  and  I  work." 

Now  we   are  aware,  that,  in   thus 
showing  you  the  unremitting  activity 


300 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


which  had  been  required  from  the  Me- 
diator, we  do  not  apparently  take  as 
wide  a  sweep,  or  display  as  mighty  a 
work,  as  under  our  first  head  of  dis- 
course, when  the  employments  of  the 
Creator  engaged  our  attention.  We 
have  confined  ourselves  to  the  single 
globe  on  which  we  dwell,  and  to  the 
single  race  to  which  we  belong :  where- 
as before,  we  had  immensity  across 
which  to  travel,  and  countless  orders 
of  being  to  gather  under  the  wing  of 
the  one  Great  Protector.  But  possibly 
we  take  a  contracted  view  of  the  office 
and  occupation  of  the  Son,  when  we 
reduce  them  within  narrower  limits 
than  those  of  the  Father.  It  may  be, 
that  our  world  is  the  only  world  on 
which  evil  gained  footing,  and  our  race 
the  only  race  over  which  Satan  tri- 
umphed. But  if  this  opinion  were  in- 
contestably  proved  just,  it  would  not 
follow  that  the  mediatorial  work  of 
Christ  was  confined,  in  its  consequen- 
ces, to  Adam  and  his  posterity.  If  all 
those  worlds,  AVhich  we  see  travelling 
in  their  brightness,  be  inhabited  by  be- 
ings who  never  transgressed,  I  do  not 
conclude  that  they  cannot  have  inter- 
est in  the  office  assumed  by  the  second 
person  in  the  Trinity.  We  know  that 
the  possibility  of  falling  is  inseparable 
from  creatureship  ;  so  that  there  must 
be  some  external  security,  ere  any  fi- 
nite being  can  be  certain  to  keep  its 
first  estate.  We  know  this  from  the 
very  nature  of  the  case :  for  it  is  to 
make  the  creature  equal  to  the  Creator, 
to  suppose  it  in  itself  incapable  of  sin. 
We  know  this  moreover  from  the  his- 
tory of  fallen  angels.  They  were  the 
very  loftiest  of  created  beings  :  they 
lived  in  the  light  of  God's  immediate 
presence  :  there  was  nothing  from  with- 
out to  originate  temptation  :  and  ne- 
vertheless they  rebelled  against  their 
Maker,  and  procured  for  themselves  an 
eternity  of  torment. 

But  if  the  possibility  of  falling  away 
must  thus  exist  throughout  the  uni- 
verse, why  are  we  to  conclude  that 
Christ,  in  his  office  of  Mediator,  has 
done  nothing  for  those  ranks  of  intelli- 
gent being  which  have  maintained  their 
allegiance  1  If  ihey  are  now  secured 
against  falling  away,  what  has  made 
them  secure  1  What  has  thrown  round 
them  such  a  rampart  against  the  incur- 
sions of  evil,  that  there  is  certainty  of 


their  continuing  the  obedient  and  the 
happy  1  We  know  of  no  satisfactory 
answer  to  these  questions — and  they 
are  questions  which  force  themselves 
upon  every  man  who  considers  what  ■ 
creatureship  is — but  that  which  sup-  " 
poses  the  whole  universe  interested  in 
the  suretyship  of  Jesus,  and  affected 
by  his  mediation.  Of  course,  we  do  not 
mean,  that,  where  no  sin  had  been  com- 
mitted there  could  be  need  of  the  shed- 
ding of  blood.  But  those  who  required 
not  expiation,  required  the  being  con- 
firmed and  established  ;  they  required 
to  have  their  happiness  made  perma- 
nent through  some  correction  of  its 
natural  mutability.  When,  therefore, 
the  Son  of  God  undertook  to  link  the 
created  with  the  uncreated,  the  finite 
with  the  infinite,  in  his  own  divine  per- 
son, he  probably  did  that  which  gave 
stability  to  unfallen  orders,  as  well  as 
wrought  the  recovery  of  a  fallen.  He 
maintained  the  obedient,  as  well  as 
raised  the  disobedient ;  and,  by  the 
same  act,  rendered  it  impossible  that 
those  then  pure  should  be  polluted, 
and  possible,  that  men,  though  pollu- 
ted, might  be  cleansed.  And  now,  if 
you  tell  me  of  glorious  worlds,  where 
the  inhabitants  have  no  sins  of  which 
to  repent,  I  do  not,  on  that  account, 
conclude  that  they  cannot  join  with  me 
in  gratitude  to  a  Mediator.  Whilst  I 
thank  and  bless  him  for  my  restoration, 
they  may  thank  and  bless  him  for  their 
preservation.  His  the  arm  which  has 
raised  me  from  ruin  :  his  may  be  the 
arm  which  has  retained  them  in  glory. 
Why,  then,  may  Ave  not  think  that  the 
mediatorial  energy  is  every  jot  as  wise- 
ly diffused  and  as  incessantly  occupied, 
as  that  of  the  Upholder  and  Governor 
of  the  universe?  It  is  not  this  globe 
alone,  it  is  every  world  throughout  a 
teeming  immensity,  which  furnishes 
employment  to  the  Father,  engaging 
his  inspections,  requiring  his  support, 
and  offering  him  homage.  And  equally 
may  the  Son  be  occupied  with  every 
home  of  intelligent  being,  ministering, 
throughout  the  broad  sweep  of  the  spi- 
ritual creation,  to  the  retaining  those 
in  obedience  who  are  by  nature  in  con- 
stant danger  of  apostacy.  Hence,  just 
as  Ave  refer  it  to  the  immediate  agency 
of  God,  that  stars  and  planets  retain 
their  places,  and  perform  their  revolu- 
tions, so  Avould  Ave  refer  it  to  the  im- 


THE  CONTINUED  AGENCY  OF  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 


301 


mediate  agency  of  Christ,  that  the  suc- 
cessive ranks  of  the  heavenly  hosts 
preserve  their  glory,  and  walk  their 
brilliant  circuits:  and  we  have  no  ac- 
count to  give  why  there  is  no  jostling 
in  the  material  world,  and  no  apostacy 
in  the  moral:  why  the  wants  of  what- 
soever liveth  are  supplied,  and  all  that 
is  holy  in  created  orders  is  kept  from 
decay — none  but  that  furnished  by  the 
combination  of  providential  and  media- 
torial activity,  which  is  here  affirmed 
by  Christ,  "  My  Father  worketh  hither- 
to, and  I  work." 

There  is  yet  another  consideration, 
suggested  by  these  words  of  our  Lord, 
with  which  we  would,  in  conclusion, 
engage  your  attention.  Christ  had 
wrought  a  miracle  on  the  Sabbath ; 
and  he  justified  his  so  doing  by  stating 
that  his  work  allowed  of  no  interrup- 
tions, but  must  be  prosecuted  inces- 
santly, like  that  of  actuating  and  sus- 
taining the  universe.  The  effect  of  this 
statement  should  be  to  give  us  the  same 
confidence  in  addressing  ourselves  to 
Christ  as  our  Mediator,  and  to  God  as 
our  Father. '  The  providence  on  which 
we  depend  for  daily  bread  is  not,  it  ap- 
pears, more  active  or  unwearied  than 
the  intercession  through  which  must 
come  our  daily  grace.  And  as  that 
providence  watches  what  is  mean  and 
inconsiderable,  so  that  not  even  a  spar- 
row falls  unobserved,  we  conclude  that 
the  intercession  leaves  not  out  the  very 
poorest;  and  that,  consequently,  insig- 
nificance can  no  more  exclude  "s  from 
the  sympathy  and  succor  of  a  Savior, 
than  from  the  bounty  and  guardianship 
of  God.  There  should  be  something 
very  consolatory  to  the  timid  and  down- 
cast, in  the  parallel  which  our  text 
draws  between  the  agencies  of  the  Fa- 
ther and  the  Son.  The  Son,  it  appears, 
is  as  assiduously  employed  in  his  office 
of  Mediator,  as  the  Father  in  that  of 
the  common  Parent  and  Ruler :  then 
let  me  judge  what  may  be  expected 
from  the  one,  by  what  I  know  of  the 
other.  The  Father  "  feedeth  the  young 
ravens,"   espouseth  the   cause  of  the 


widow,  and  declares  and  proves  him- 
self the  helper  of  the  friendless.    Then 
the  Son  will  do  no  less:  ''  He  will  not 
break  the  bruised  reed,  and  the  smok- 
ing flax  he  will  not  quench."    He  will 
be  the  High  Priest  of  those  who  have 
only,  like  the  widow,  two  mites  to  pre- 
sent; and   will  sprinkle    his  blood   on 
the  unworthiest,  "  without  money  and 
without    price."     "My   Father   work- 
eth ;"  and  whom  does  he  neglect,  whom 
fail    to    sustain  1     "  I    work ;"    and    to 
whom  will  I  refuse  pardon,  who  shall 
come  to  me  and  be  cast  out  1    It  were 
to  destroy  all  the  energy  of  the  sen- 
tence, to  take  all  force  from  the  com- 
bination, to  doubt  that  Christ  is  as  vi- 
gilant about  my  soul,  as  earnest  in  no- 
ting my  spiritual  dangers,  as  liberal  in 
supplying  my  spiritual  wants,  as  is  God 
in  reference  to  my  body,  though  I  can- 
not breathe  the  breath  which  he  does 
not  inspire,  nor  eat  the  morsel  which 
he  does  not  provide.    And  this  should 
produce  great  confidence  in  Christ  as 
a  Mediator.    If  there  be  one  of  us  who 
has  long  lain,  like  the  impotent  man, 
by  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  deriving  no 
benefit  from   the   salutary   waters,    let 
him  look  up  in  faith  to  the  Savior,  who 
is  now  saying  to  him,  "  Wilt  thou  be 
made  whole  ("  and  as  a  proof  that  this 
Savior  yet  worketh  on  the  Sabbath,  he 
shall  find  his  limbs  strengthened,  and 
he  shall  depart  from  the  temple,  "walk- 
ing, and  leaping   and   praising    God." 
Yes,   if  ye  will  indeed   be   earnest  in 
breaking   loose    from   evil    habits,    re- 
nouncing practices,   and  forsaking  as- 
sociates,    against    which    conscience 
warns  you,  we  can  promise  that  Christ 
will  so  communicate  unto  you  the  as- 
sistances of  his  Spirit,  that  you  shall 
become    living  proofs   that  the  medi- 
atorial   energy   is  not   abated;  v/hilst 
stars,   and  forests,  and  mountains  are 
witnessing  to  the  unwearied  activities 
of  our  Maker,  ye   shall  witness  to  the 
unwearied  activities  of  our  Redeemer: 
and  thus  shall   full  evidence  be  given 
that  Christ   might  still   say,  "  My  Fa- 
ther worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work." 


302 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    DRY    BONES. 


SERMON    III. 


THE   RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


"  And  ho  said  unto  m?,  Son  of  man,  can  thcsn  bnnos  live  ?   And  I  answered,  O  Lord  God,  thou  knowcst." 
'  Ezekiel,  37  :  3. 


la  the  preceding  chapter  Ezekiel  had 
delivered  very  animated  and  encoura- 
ging predictions  of  the  prosperity  of 
the  houses  of  Israel  and  Judah.  There 
is  a  fulness  in  these  predictions  which 
will  scarce  admit  of  our  applying  them 
exclusively  to  events  which  have  al- 
ready occurred.  Ezekiel  prophesied 
during  the  Babylonish  captivity;  and 
we  may  believe  that  the  words  which 
he  was  commissioned  to  utter,  had  a 
primary  reference  to  the  then  desolate 
estate  of  his  country  and  nation.  When 
he  speaks  of  dispersion  and  captivity, 
and  when  he  pours  forth  announce- 
ments of  restoration  and  greatness,  it 
may  well  be  supposed  that  there  is,  at 
least,  an  allusion  to  the  existing  cir- 
cumstances of  the  Jews,  and  their  ap- 
proaching deliverance  by  Cyrus.  And 
it  is  possible  that  those,  who  first  heard 
his  predictions,  received  them  only  in 
their  primary  sense,  and  looked  not  on 
to  a  more  thorough  fulfilment,  worthy 
of  the  splendor  of  the  figures,  and  the 
amplitude  of  the  language.  But  to  our- 
selves, who  can  compare  the  event 
with  the  prophecy,  it  must  be  evident 
that  a  deliverance,  greater  than  any 
past,  was  foreseen  by  Ezekiel.  Even  if 
it  could  be  shown  that  the  condition  of 
the  Jews,  after  their  return  from  Ba- 
bylon, answered  to  the  prophet's  lofty 
descriptions  of  national  prosperity,  we 
should  be  unable  to  interpret  the  pre- 
dictions without  having  respect  to  yet 
future  things.  There  can  hardly  be 
dispute  that  the  ten  tribes,  which  con- 
stituted the  kingdom  of  Israel,  have 
never  been  restored  to  their  own  land, 
but  are  still  in  some  mysterious  seclu- 
sion, exiles  from  Palestine.  Only  the 
tribes  of  Judah  and  Benjamin  were  led 


captive  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  sent 
back  by  Cyrus.  Undoubtedly,  certain 
individuals,  who  belonged  to  the  king- 
dom of  Israel,  were  mixed  with  these 
in  captivity  and  in  restoration.  But  as 
a  body,  the  ten  tribes  have  never  yet 
been  restored;  so  that,  if  predictions, 
j  which  refer  to  the  house  of  Judah, 
could  be  proved  accomplished  by  their 
return  home  from  Babylon,  the  like 
account  could  not  be  given  of  those 
which  have  to  do  with  the  kingdom  of 
Israel. 

And  if  you  examine  the  predictions 
of  Ezekiel  in  the  foregoing  chapter, 
and  in  that  which  contains  our  text, 
you  will  perceive  that  Israel  is  so  as- 
sociated with  Judah,  that  no  restora- 
tion can  be  ultimately  intended,  which 
does  not  include  both.  This  might  be 
proved  of  each  part  of  the  prophecies 
in  question ;  but  we  will  confine  our- 
selves to  the  close  of  the  second  of  the 
chapters.  The  prophet  is  directed  to 
take  two  sticks  ;  to  write  on  one,  "  For 
Judah,  and  for  the  children  of  Israel 
his  companions  ;"  on  the  other,  ''  For 
Joseph,  the  stick  of  Ephraim,  and  for 
all  the  house  of  Israel  his  companions." 
These  sticks,  thus  inscribed,  are  to  be 
held  in  the  hand  of  Ezekiel;  they  are 
to  become  one  stick  in  his  hand;  and 
then  he  is  to  utter  a  prediction,  expla- 
natory of  this  symbolical  transaction, 
declaring  that  both  Judah  and  Israel 
should  be  gathered  back  from  their  dis- 
persions ;  that  they  should  no  longer 
be  two  nations,  but  be  combined,  like 
the  sticks,  into  one  people  under  one 
king.  You  can  give  no  fair  interpreta- 
tion of  such  a  prophecy  as  this,  if  you 
[limit  its  scope  to  the  events  of  past 
' days :  for  you  can  find  no  account  in 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    DIIY    BOKES. 


303 


history  of  such  a  restoration  of  the 
twelve  tribes,  and  of  their  re-establish- 
ment as  one  nation  under  David  their 
prince. 

Accordingly,  we  conclude  that  yet 
future  occurrences  passed  before  the 
view  of  the  prophet.  We  believe  that 
the  seer  had  his  eye  on  a  restoration 
of  the  children  of  Abraham,  of  which 
none  that  has  yet  happened  can  have 
been  more  than  a  type.  And  we  refer 
these  chapters,  though  without  deny- 
ing that  they  may  have  had  a  primary 
and  partial  accomplishment  in  events 
connected  with  the  close  of  the  Baby- 
lonish captivity,  to  a  glorious  season, 
when  God  shall  bring  to  their  own  land 
the  people  whom  he  hath  cast  off  in 
displeasure,  and  who  have  been  wan- 
derers for  centuries  over  the  habitable 
earth.  Then,  when  from  the  east  and 
west,  from  the  north  and  south,  there 
shall  have  flowed  into  Judea  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  those  to  whom  the 
land  was  originally  given,  and  the  re-in- 
stated people  shall  hold  the  sovereignty 
of  the  globe  beneath  the  sceptre  of  the 
long-rejected  Christ,  will  there  be  a 
deliverance  worthy  of  the  triumphant 
strains  of  Isaiah,  and  a  greatness  com- 
mensurate with  the  majestic  descrip- 
tions of  Ezekiel. 

Such  is  the  first  point  which  it  is  ne- 
cessary to  settle  before  entering  on  the 
examination  of  our  text  and  its  context. 
We  must  determine  the  period  whose 
occurrences  the  prophet  delineates ; 
else  we  may  easily  go  far  wrong  in  ex- 
plaining his  sketches.  But-  this  is  not 
all ;  there  is  a  second  preliminary  to 
which  we  would  direct  your  attention. 
The  Jews  are  to  be  regarded  as  atypi- 
cal nation,  so  that  their  history  is  figu- 
rative, and  may  be  studied  as  a  parable. 
You  cannot  ask  proof  of  this  5  for  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  read  the  books  of 
^Vloses,  to  follow  the  Israelites  into  their 
prison  in  Egypt,  and  then  through  the 
wilderness  to  their  rest  in  Canaan,  with- 
out feeling  that  what  happened  to  this 
people  describes,  as  by  a  figure,  what 
happens  to  the  church.  There  is  mani- 
festly amoral  in  all  that  occurs;  or,  to 
speak  more  accurately,  our  spiritual 
history  is  traced  in  the  events  which 
befell  the  Jews  as  a  nation.  With  them 
we  are  naturally  slaves  under  an  impe- 
rious task-master;  with  them  we  are 
delivered  from  bondage,  though  by  a 


mightier  than  Moses;  with  them  we 
march  through  a  wilderness,  dreary  in 
itself,  but  rendered  more  appalling  by 
our  murmuring  and  unbelief,  to  a  land 
that  floweth  with  the  milk  and  the  ho- 
ney. And  it  may  be,  that  this  typical 
character  of  the  Jews  extends  beyond 
these  simple  and  self-evident  particu- 
lars. We  should  be  disposed  to  say  of 
the  history  of  this  people,  taken  in  its 
spreadings  over  the  future  as  well  as 
the  past,  that  it  is  the  exact  miniature 
of  that  of  the  human  race.  The  Jews 
have  lost  their  peculiar  position  in  the 
favor  of  God,  and  are  wanderers  from 
the  land  which  is  specially  their  own. 
But  they  are  yet  to  be  restored  to  their 
forfeited  place,  and  to  enjoy  in  Canaan 
a  higher  than  their  first  dignity.  Thus 
the  human  race,  having  apostatized 
from  God,  is  left  for  a  while  in  the 
dreariness  of  exile,  but  is  reserved  for 
the  richest  splendors  of  immortality. 
Men,  therefore,  in  general,  may  be  to 
angels  what  the  Jews  are  to  the  rest  of 
humankind.  Angels  may  read  in  the 
records  of  the  fallen  but  yet  beloved 
race,  precisely  what  we  read  in  those 
of  the  rejected,  but  not  forgotten,  peo- 
ple. And  as  we  look  forward  to  the 
restoration  of  the  Jews,  as  big  with  in- 
terest to  all  the  dwellers  on  this  globe, 
so  may  angels  expect  the  final  "  mnni- 
festation  of  the  sons  of  God,"  when 
Christ  and  his  church  shall  shine  out  in 
their  glory,  as  fraught  with  the  mighti- 
est results  to  every  rank  of  intelligent 
being. 

But  without  examining,  more  at 
length,  the  respects  in  which  the  Jews 
may  be  regarded  as  a  typical  people, 
we  may  consider  the  general  fact  so 
readily  acknowledged  that  we  may  safe- 
ly assume  it  in  any  process  of  reason- 
ing. And  as  a  consequence  on  this  al- 
lowed fact,  we  may  suppose  that,  when 
we  meet  with  a  figurative  delineation 
of  things  that  were  to  happen  to  the 
Jews,  it  is  to  be  also  treated  as  a  figu- 
rative delineation  of  things  that  relate 
to  the  whole  human  race.  At  least,  and 
this  is  probably  as  far  as  we  shall  find 
it  necessary  to  go  in  our  present  dis- 
course, there  can  be  no  ground  for  call- 
ing an  interpretation  fanciful,  if,  after 
treating  a  parable  as  descriptive,  in  the 
first  instance,  of  the  state  or  expecta- 
tion of  the  Jews,  we  assign  it  a  spirit- 
ual meaning,  and  apply  it,  in  the  second 


304 


THE    RESURRECTIOrV    OF    DRY    BONES. 


place,   to   our  own  circumstances,   or 
those  of  the  church. 

Now  we  have  thus  cleared  the  way 
for  our  entering  on  the  examination  of 
that  very  singular  portion  of  holy  writ 
with  which  our  text  is  associated.  We 
have  determined  that,  so  far  as  it  is 
prophetic  of  occurrences  in  the  history 
of  the  Jews,  its  accomplishment  is  to 
be  mainly  sought  in  the  future  rather 
than  the  past ;  we  have  also  ascertained 
that,  though  in  its  primary  application, 
it  belongs  only  to  a  solitary  people,  it 
may  be  regarded  as  referring,  in  its  spi- 
ritual meaning,  to  the  whole  human 
race.  Let  these  preliminaries  be  borne 
in  mind,  and  they  will  aid  us  in  avoid- 
ing mistake,  and  discovering  truth. 

The  portion  of  Scripture  which  Ave 
are  about  to  investigate,  is,  as  we  have 
just  hinted,  one  of  the  most  singular 
which  its  pages  present.  It  relates  what 
may  be  considered  as  a  vision  granted 
to  the  prophet  Ezekiel,  though  the  nar- 
rative might  pass  for  that  of  an  actual 
occurrence.  Ezekiel,  after  uttering  pre- 
dictions which  breathe  the  future  glo- 
ries of  Israel  and  Judah,  is  "  carried  out 
in  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,"  and  set  down 
in  a  valley  full  of  bones.  These  bones, 
so  numerous  that  they  lay  on  all  sides 
of  the  prophet,  appeared  to  have  be- 
longed to  men  long  dead,  for  "  they 
were  very  dry,"  as  though  they  had  been 
for  years  thus  scattered  and  exposed. 
As  Ezekiel  gazed  on  this  ghastly  spec- 
tacle, there  came  to  him  from  God  the 
question  of  our  text,  "  Son  of  man,  can 
these  bones  live  V  It  was  a  hard  ques- 
tion, at  a  time  when  "  life  and  immor- 
tality" had  not  been  "brought  to  light 
by  the  Gospel  :"  and  therefore  the  pro- 
phet, without  casting  doubt  on  the  pow-. 
er  of  the  Almighty,  returns  the  modest 
and  half-inquiring  answer,  "0  Lord 
God,  thou  knowest."  The  heavenly 
voice  then  commands  him  to  prophesjr 
upon  these  bones,  to  address  them  as 
though  they  were  living  and  intelli- 
gent, and  to  predict  their  being  recon- 
structed into  symmetry,  and  re-anima- 
ted with  breath.  The  prophet  betrays 
no  reluctance :  he  does  not  hesitate 
because  it  seemed  useless  to  address 
these  fragments  of  skeletons  ;  but  at 
once  obeys  the  command,  and  delivers 
the  message.  And  whilst  he  was  in  the 
very  act  of  uttering  the  prophecj\  lo, 
a  noise  was   heard  as   of  a   rustling 


among  the  bones  ;  they  began  to  move, 
as  though  instinct  with  life,  each  seek- 
ing his  fellow,  so  that  bone  came  to 
bone  Avith  the  very  nicest  precision. 
Then  "  the  sinews  and  the  flesh  came 
upon  them ;"  the  sinews  bound  them, 
and  the  skin  covered  them  :  and  thus 
the  valley  was  filled  with  human  bo- 
dies. These  bodies,  however,  were  as 
yet  without  breath  ;  but  the  voice  of 
the  Lord  was  again  heard,  directing 
the  prophet  to  prophesy  to  the  wind, 
that  it  might  come  and  breathe  upon 
the  slain.  This  having  been  done,  the 
breath  came  into  the  carcasses ;  they 
started  from  the  ground  as  animated 
things,  "and  stood  up  upon  their  feet, 
an  exceeding  great  army." 

Such  was  the  vision  granted  to  Eze- 
kiel;  and  God  immediately  informed 
him  of  its  purport.  He  told  him  that 
these  bones  were  the  whole  house  of 
Israel ;  and  that,  however  desolate  the 
condition  of  that  people  might  appear, 
he  would  yet  open  their  graves,  and 
cause  them  to  come  out  of  their  graves. 
As  the  bones  had  been  rebuilded  into 
human  bodies,  so  should  the  disjointed 
and  shattered  people  of  Israel  be  recon- 
structed into  a  kingdom ;  and  God 
would  put  in  them  his  spirit,  and  make 
them  live,  and  place  them  once  more 
in  their  own  land.  It  admits,  therefore, 
of  no  dispute  that  the  parable — for  such 
may  the  vision  justly  be  styled — was 
primarily  designed  to  predict  a  resto- 
ration to  Palestine  of  its  rightful  but 
exiled  possessors.  But  with  this  design 
we  are  at  liberty  to  connect  another, 
that  of  representing,  under  figures  de- 
rived from  things  happening  to  the 
Jews,  truths  in  which  all  men  have  in- 
terest. And  thus  our  business,  whilst 
endeavoring  to  explain  the  parable 
more  at  length,  will  be  to  apply  it  to 
the  children  of  Abraham,  in  the  first 
place  in  their  national,  and  in  the  se- 
cond in  their  typical  capacity,  and  to 
show  in  both  cases  the  fidelity  of  the 
representation. 

Now  you  are  to  observe  the  position 
in  which  the  vision  stands:  it  is  not  a 
detached  thing,  but  occurs  in  the  midst 
of  a  continuous  prophecy,  having  mani- 
fest respect  to  what  precedes,  and 
what  follows.  The  two  chapters,  the 
36th  and  37th  of  the  book  of  Ezekiel, 
contain  one  noble  prediction  of  glories 
to  be   reached   by  Judah   and   Israel  : 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


3C5 


and  though  this  prediction  may  seem 
interrupted  hy  the  vision,  a  little  in- 
quiry will  show  you  that  it  is  but  illus- 
trated and  confirmed.  The  Jews,  to 
Avhom  Ezekiel  addressed  the  glowing 
announcements  of  the  36th  chapter, 
would  probably  look  on  their  forlorn 
and  seemingly  hopeless  estate,  and  con- 
clude it  impossible  that  what  was  so 
fallen  should  ever  reach  the  predicted 
eminence.  To  meet  this  suspicion  the 
vision  is  granted.  The  wretchedness, 
and,  on  all  human  appearance,  the  hope- 
lessness, of  their  condition  is  freely  ac- 
knowledged ;  for  they  are  represented 
as  whitening  bones,  scattered  over  a 
plain,  in  regard  of  which  there  could 
he  no  expectation  of  a  resurrection  un- 
to life.  But  when  these  bones  move, 
and  "an  exceeding  great  army  "  of  liv- 
ing men  succeeds  to  the  array  of  dis- 
jointed skeletons,  the  Jews  are  most 
powerfully  taught  how  wrongly  they 
argued  from  the  difficulty  to  the  im- 
probability. There  could  not  be  a  tran- 
sition less  to  have  been  expected  than 
that  exhibited  in  the  valley  of  vision : 
and,  if  God  could  effect  this,  why 
should  it  be  thought  that  he  could  not 
make  good  his  promises  to  a  conquer- 
ed and  dispersed  people  1  Thus  the  vis- 
ion seems  introduced  into  the  midst  of 
the  prophecy,  not  to  break  its  continu- 
ity, but  to  obviate  an  objection  which 
might  be  rising  in  the  minds  of  the 
hearers ;  and  we  are  therefore  to  take 
the  vision  as  a  part  of  the  prophecy, 
and  to  refer  it  with  the  rest  to  yet  fu- 
ture times.  In  so  doing,  we  deny  not, 
as  we  stated  at  the  outset,  that  one 
purpose  of  the  vision  may  have  been 
to  comfort  the  Jews  then  in  Babylon, 
and  to  assure  them  of  a  speedy  return 
to  the  land  of  their  fathers.  But  foras- 
much as  the  whole  prediction,  of  which 
the  vision  forms  part,  can  be  satisfied 
by  nothing  which  has  already  occurred, 
we  seem  bound  to  seek  the  fulfilment 
of  the  vision  itself  in  the  yet  coming 
fortunes  of  Judah  and  Israel.  Let  us 
then  regard  the  parable  before  us  as 
figuring  the  condition  of  God's  people 
in  their  dispersion,  and  that  restoration 
which  we  are  yet  bidden  to  expect ; 
and  w^e  shall  find  an  accuracy  and  a 
fulness  of  description,  not  surpassed 
in  any  portion  of  prophecy.  Of  course, 
we  can  only  gather  our  arguments  and 
illustrations  from  the   history  of  the 


Jews;  for  we  are  ignorant  of  what  has 
befallen  the  ten  tribes,  since  carried 
into  captivity  by  the  king  of  Assyria. 
But  this  will  suffice.  If  the  description 
be  proved  correct,  so  far  as  we  have 
the  power  of  examining  its  accuracy, 
we  shall  have  little  cause  to  question 
j  its  fidelity  on  points  which  lie  beyond 
our  range  of  information. 

We  observe  the  state  of  the  Jews 
during  long  centuries  past ;  and  we  ask 
whether  it  have  not  been  described  to 
the  letter  by  what  Ezekiel  beheld  in 
the  valley  of  vision  %  Ever  since  the 
Romans  were  let  loose  on  the  devoted 
land  and  people,  the  whole  globe  has 
been  this  valley  of  vision;  for  every- 
where have  been  scattered  the  frag- 
ments of  the  once  favored  nation. 
Both  the  civil  and  the  ecclesiastical 
polity  of  the  Jews  were  completely 
broken  up ;  and  there  has  never  been 
the  least  approach  towards  the  recon- 
struction of  any  government  of  their 
own.  They  have  lived  indeed  under 
every  sort  of  rule,  having  been  mix- 
ed with  every  people  under  heaven, 
though  all  along  kept  marvellously  dis- 
tinct. But  never,  since  their  sins  pro- 
voked God  to  give  them  up,  have  they 
had  governors  and  laws  of  their  own  ; 
and  never,  therefore,  have  they  been 
ought  else  than  the  skeleton  of  a  na- 
tion, and  that  too  a  skeleton  whose 
bones  have  been  detached,  and  spread 
confesedly  throughout  the  whole  vallej-. 
And  if  there  had  come,  at  any  time,  a 
voice  from  heaven,  demanding  whether 
these  dry  bones  could  live,  whether 
the  dispersed  Jews  could  ever  again 
be  gathered  under  one  head,  and  with- 
in their  own  land,  the  answer  of  those, 
who  most  acknowledged  the  divine 
power,  must  have  been,  "  0  Lord  God, 
thou  knowest."  On  all  human  compu- 
tation, there  lies  an  improbability, 
which  is  little  short  of  an  impossibi- 
lity, against  the  return  of  the  children 
of  Abraham,  from  every  section  of  the 
earth,  to  Judea,  and  their  re-establish- 
ment as  an  independent  people.  The 
bones  are  many :  who  shall  collect  so 
vast  a  multitude  1  The  bones  are  dry  : 
who  shall  animate  what  hath  so  long 
wanted  vitality  1  Yet,  we  are  com- 
manded to  prophesy  over  these  bones  ; 
to  declare,  in  unqualified  language, 
that  the  Jews  shall  return  home,  when 
"  the  times  of  the  Gentiles"  are  fulfill- 
39 


306 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    DRY    BONES, 


cd,  rebuild  their  Jerusalem,  and  pos- 
sess the  sovereignty  of  the  earth.  If 
there  be  a  point  on  which  prophecy  is 
clearer  and  more  diflLise  than  on  an- 
other, it  seems  to  us  to  be  this  of  the 
restoration  of  Israel,  and  of  the  setting 
up  of  the  throne  of  David  in  the  land 
which  the  stranger  has  long  possessed 
and  profaned.  And  whilst  we  have  this 
"sure  word  of  prophecy,"  it  is  not  the 
apparent  difficulty  which  can  make  us 
hesitate  to  expect  the  marvellous  oc- 
currence. There  shall  be  a  stirring 
amongst  the  dry  bones.  We  know  not 
by  what  mysterious  impulse  and  agen- 
cy a  people,  spread  over  the  whole 
earth,  shall  be  suddenly  and  simulta- 
neously moved:  but  bone  shall  come 
to  bone,  Jew  shall  seek  out  and  com- 
bine with  Jew:  the  sinew  and  the 
flesh  shall  come  up  upon  these  bones 
— there  shall  be  a  principle  of  union, 
combining  what  have  long  been  detach- 
ed ;  and  thus  shall  the  scattered  ele- 
ments be  reconstructed  into  the  skele- 
ton, and  then  the  skeleton  shall  give 
place  to  the  full  grown  body.  This  body 
will  yet  have  to  be  quickened— the  Jews 
must  not  only  be  re-united  as  a  people, 
they  must  be  converted  to  the  faith 
which  they  have  long  despised,  and  be 
brought  to  the  confessing  their  crucifi- 
ed Messiah.  And  this  must  be  special- 
ly the  work  of  the  Spirit  of  the  livinsr 
God,  entering  within  them,  and  stir"- 
ring  them  from  that  moral  deadness  in 
which  they  have  lain  during  their  long 
alienation.  A  separate  prophecy  is  ut- 
tered in'  reference  to  the  coming  of 
the  breath  into  the  body;  and  it  is  not 
improbable  that  this  assigning  different 
times  to  the  reconstruction  and  reani- 
raation  of  the  body,  might  be  intended 
to  mark,  what  seems  elsewhere  indi- 
cated, that  the  Jews  will  be  recombin- 
cd  into  a  separate  people,  before  pre- 
vailed on  to  acknowledge  the  Christ; 
that  it  will  not  be  until  after  their  re- 
settlement in  Canaan,  that  they  will 
nationally  embrace  Christianity.  Cer- 
tainly, this  is  Avhat  seems  taught  us 
by  the  prophecies  of  Zechariah  ;  for  it 
is  after  beholding  the  Jews  in  posses- 
sion of  Jerusalem  that  wc  read,  "  I 
will  pour  upon  the  house  of  David, 
and  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusa- 
leni,  the  spirit  of  grace  and  of  suppli- 
cation ;  and  they  shall  look  upon  me 
whom    they   have    pierced,  and    they 


shall  mourn  for  him  as  one  mourneth 
for  his  only  son."  So  that  the  conver- 
sion of  the  people  is  to  follow  their  re- 
storation ;  just  as,  in  the  vision  be- 
fore us,  the  quickening  of  the  body  by 
God's  Spirit  is  quite  separate  from  the 
binding  of  the  bones,  and  the  covering 
them  with  flesh. 

But,  Avhatever  the  order  of  events, 
the  final  result  is  to  be  that  the  Jews 
shall  be  reinstated  in  Judea,  and  re- 
ceive Jesus  as  Messiah.  The  bones 
having  been  formed  into  the  body,  and 
the  body  animated  from  above,  the  dis- 
persed and  powerless  people  shall  be 
"  an  exceeding  great  army,"  ready  to 
wage  the  battle  of  the  Lord  God  Al- 
mighty.  The  valley  of  vision,  hereto- 
fore covered  with  the  fragments  of  a 
nation  which  has  long  ceased  to  have 
a  name  amongst  kingdoms,  shall  be 
crowded  with  emissaries  from  Jeru- 
salem, bearing  in  their  hands  the  cross 
which  their  fathers  erected'  and  pro- 
claiming the  Savior  whom  those  fathers 
denied.  We  admit  again,  that,  on  every 
human  calculation,  such  result  is  al- 
most incredible;  and  that,  though  we 
live  in  the  old  age  of  the  world,  when 
the  day  is  perhaps  not  distant  which  is 
to  witness  this  stupendous,  resurrec- 
tion, we  are  unable  to  assign  the  mode 
in  which  it  will  be  eflected.  But  the 
vision  of  Ezekiel  sets  before  us  an  im- 
mediate interference  of  God,  showing 
that  there  will  be  miracle  in  the  resto- 
ration of  Israel,  as  there  would  be  ia 
the  gathering  of  the  bones  with  which 
the  valley  was  strewed.  But  if  there 
is  to  be  miracle,  the  strangeness  brings 
no  evidence  against  the  truth ;  and  we 
wait  with  conlidenee  the  issuing  of  a. 
divine  edict,  Vihich  shall  be  heard  and 
obeyed  by  the  dispersed  seed  of  Abra- 
ham. The  aspect  of  the  valley  may 
still  be  the  same  as  when  Ezekiel  was 
carried  thither  "  in  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord."  Still,  in  the  wliole  compass  of 
imagery  there  may  be  no  more  faithful 
representation  of  the  national  condi- 
tion of  the  Jews,  than  that  which  sets 
them  before  us  as  the  pieces  into 
which  skeletons  have  been  shivered, 
and  which  have  been  tossed  over  the 
globe  by  some  irresistible  deluge.  Ne- 
vertheless we  are  listening,  with  the 
prophet,  for  a  sound  as  of  a  shaking 
amongst  these  bones.  It  shall  be 
heard :    and    the    nations,    on    whose 


THE    nESURRECTION    OF  DRY    BONES. 


307 


mountains,  and  in  whose  valleys,  the 
bones  are  thickly  strewn,  shall  be 
startled  by  the  mysterious  noise.  And 
when,  as  though  actuated  by  one  un- 
controllable impulse,  the  thousands  in 
every  land  who  have  been  mixed  with 
its  population,  and  yet  not  confound- 
ed ;  who  have  lived  under  its  laws, 
and  yet  been  aliens,  made  themselves 
homes  in  its  cities,  and  yet  been  for- 
eigners 5  the  remains  of  a  dead  nation, 
the  wreck  of  a  lost  state,  the  shreds'of 
a  scattered  community — when  these 
shall  arise,  and  league  themselves  to 
one  purpose,  and  pour  into  Judea,  till 
the  waste  and  desolate  places  swarm, 
as  in  ancient  days,  with  the  tribes  of 
the  Lord — then  will  there  be  accom- 
plished to  the  full  what  Ezekiel  saw  in 
strange  vision  ;  and  the  whole  world 
shall  confess  that  the  marvel  would 
not  be  exceeded,  nay,  would  only  be 
represented  as  in  a  figure,  if  piles  of 
human  bones  were  formed  suddenly 
into  bodies,  and  a  vast  army  sprang 
from  the  dust  of  the  sepulchres. 

But  we  proceed  from  considering 
the  Jews  in  their  national,  to  the  con- 
sidering them  in  their  typical  capacity. 
We  have  already  given  you  reasons 
for  regarding  the  Jews  as  a  typical 
people,  and  which  therefore  warrant 
our  searching  for  truths  which  concern 
the  whole  race,  in  representations  which 
primarily  belonged  to  a  solitary  nation. 
And  if  your  minds  be  informed  on  the 
great  doctrines  of  Scripture,  you  can 
scarcely  read  the  parable  without  feel- 
ing that  it  was  written  for  our  instruc- 
tion, that  it  presents  as  accurate  a  pic- 
ture of  men  in  general,  as  of  the  Jews 
in  particular.  You  know  that  the  foun- 
dation truth  of  the  whole  christian  sys- 
tem, that  which  is  taken  for  granted  in 
every partoftheGospel, and  to  disprove 
which  would  be  to  disprove  the  necessi- 
ty for  a  Mediator's  interference,  is  the 
truth  of  human  corruption  and  helpless- 
ness. It  would  not  be  easy  to  exagge-  { 
rate  this  triith,  to  overstate  it  as  taught 
in  holy  writ,  though  erroneous  inferen- 
ces may  be  deduced  from  it,  or  false  re- 
presentations given  of  its  character.  The 
important  thingis,that  we  carefully  dis- 
tinguish between  man  as  the  citizen  of 
this  world,  and  man  as  the  citizen  of 
another  world  ;  for  unless  such  distinc- 
tion be  kept  in  mind,  we  may  easily 
advance  statements  in  regard  of  human 


degeneracy,  which  men  will  justly  re- 
ject as   unfair   and    overcharged.    So 
long  as  man  is  viewed  only  as  a  mem- 
ber of  society,  he  is  undoubtedly  ca- 
pable of  much  that  is  noble  and  excel- 
lent ;  it  were  absurd  to  make  the  sym- 
pathies which  he  can  display,  and  the 
virtues  which  he  can  cultivate,  the  sub- 
ject of  one  sweeping  and  indiscriminate 
censure.    If  he  did  not  belong  to  two 
worlds;  if  he  owed  every  thing  to  his 
fellow-creatures,    and    nothing  to    his 
j  Creator ;    we    should   be    met,    on   all 
I  hands,  by  fine  instances  of  what  is  ge- 
nerous, and  upright,  and  amiable,  which 
I  would  tell  strongly  against  our  theory 
j  of  the  corruption  of  nature,  and  almost 
I  force  us  to  confess  that  man  cannot  be 
I  "  very  far  gone  from   original  righte- 
i  ousness."    But  when   you    survey  the 
I  human   race  in  relation  to  its  Maker, 
I  then  it  is  that  the  corruption  may  be 
proved  radical  and  total.    You  will  not 
find  that  those  who  are  most  exempla- 
ry in  the  discharge  of  relative  duties, 
and  whose    conduct,   in  all  the  inter- 
courses of  life,  wins  the  most  of  respect  • 
and  admiration,  are  by  nature  one  jot 
more  disposed  to  love  God,  and  recog- 
nize his  authority,  than  the  openly  dis- 
solute.   There  are  the  very  widest  dif- 
ferences  between    men,    regarded   as 
members  of   society ;    there  is  a  tho- 
rough uniformity  amongst  them,  if  you 
judge  by  aversion  from  God,  and  de- 
termination to  sacrifice  the  eternal  for 
the  temporal.    If  they  belonged  to  this 
world  alone,  they  could  not  be  proved 
totally  and    equally  corrupt  :    for   this 
would  be  to  deny  that  lovely  things, 
and  things  of  good  report,  yet  linger 
amid  the  ruins  of  humanity.    But  for- 
asmuch as  they  belong  also  to  another 
world,    and    have    obligations    laid  on 
them  by  their  relation  to  their  Maker, 
the  corruption    may   be  demonstrated 
without    the    slightest    exception ;  for 
you  cannot  find  the  solitary  instance 
of  a  man  who  has  by  nature  any  love 
of  God,  or  any  hatred  of  sin,  or  any 
desire  after  holiness.     This,  as  we  be- 
lieve, is  the  fair  statement  of  the  doc- 
trine of  human  depravity — a  depravity 
which   does   not   prevent   the   play  of 
much  that  is  amiable,  and  the  circula- 
tion of  much  that  is  estimable,  between 
man  and  man;  but,  in  consequence  of 
which,  all  men  are  alike  indisposed  to 
the  having  God  in  their  thoughts,  and 


308 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


alike    incapacitated    for    seeking   his 
favor. 

And  when  the  Bible  would  set  this 
doctrine  before  us,  it  employs  undoubt- 
edly strong  figures  ;  but  not  stronger, 
if  the  case  be  examined,  than  are  war- 
ranted by  the  facts.  Thus,  as  you  are 
all  aware,  there  is  no  more  common 
representation  than  one  which  suppo- 
ses men  in  a  state  of  death,  morally 
dead,  and  therefore  totally  disqualified 
for  the  functions  of  spiritual  life.  We 
may  admit  that  this  looks,  at  first  sight, 
like  an  overcharged  representation; 
and  men  accordingly  are  very  loth  to 
allow  its  correctness.  They  know  that 
the  soul  has  vast  powers  and  capaci- 
ties, and  that  she  can  exert  herself 
mightily  in  investigating  truth.  They 
know  also  that  the  faculties  and  feel- 
ings of  the  inner  man  are  far  enough 
from  torpid,  but  possess  much  of  vital 
energy.  Hence  they  see  not  how,  in  a 
nnoral  point  of  view,  any  more  than  in 
a  physical,  men  can  justly  be  called 
dead  ;  and  they  suppose,  that  in  this 
instance  at  least,  the  figurative  lan- 
guage of  Scripture  is  to  be  explained 
with  many  deductions  and  allowances. 
But  we  are  scarcely  disposed  to  admit 
that  the  language  is  in  this  case  figura- 
tive at  all.  We  believe  that  the  soul, 
considered  relatively  to  that  other 
world  to  which  she  rightly  belongs, 
betrays  precisely  that  insensibility, 
and  that  incapacity  of  action,  which 
characterize  a  dead  body,  in  reference 
to  the  world  of  matter  by  which  it  is 
surrounded.  If  the  body  be  reckoned 
dead,  because  it  can  no  longer  see,  nor 
hear,  nor  speak,  nor  move,  there  are 
the  same  reasons  why  the  soul,  in  her 
natural  state,  should  be  reckoned  dead  ; 
for  she  has  no  eye  for  the  light  of  hea- 
ven, no  ear  for  its  melodies,  no  taste 
for  its  pleasures,  and  no  energy  for  its 
occupations.  The  soul  is  as  insensible 
and  powerless  with  regard  to  the  world 
of  spirit,  as  the  dead  bodj'^  with  regard 
to  that  of  matter  ;  why  then  should  we 
not  use  the  same  language,  and  declare 
the  soul  dead  ;  and  that  too  with  no 
more  of  a  figure  of  speech  than  when 
the  term  is  applied  to  the  inanimate 
corpse  1  The  soul  may  be  quite  alive, 
so  far  as  this  ear;h  is  concerned,  for 
she  may  be  able  to  seek  with  the 
greatest  ardor  whatever  it  can  offer, 
and  nevertheless  be  quite  dead,  so  far 


as  heaven  is  concerned,  for  she  may 
be  totally  incapable  of  either  pursuing 
or  desiring  what  is  invisible  and  eter- 
nal. And  hence  we  conclude  that  the 
representing  unconverted  men  as  "dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,"  is  not  the  draw- 
ing an  overharsh  or  exaggerated  pic- 
ture, but  rather  the  delineating,  with 
great  faithfulness,  that  depravity  of  our 
nature  which  was  a  consequence  on 
Adam's  transgression.  This  depravity 
is  total  when  men  are  viewed  relatively 
to  God,  whatever  it  may  be  when  you 
consider  them  in  the  relationships  of 
life ;  so  that  they  are  dead  in  regard  of 
their  Immortality,  however  alive  as  ci- 
tizens of  earth. 

Let  then  the  world  be  surveyed  by 
one  who  knows  and  feels  that  men  are 
destined  for  eternity,  and  what  aspect 
will  it  wear  if  not  that  of  the  valley  of 
vision,  through  which  the  prophet  Eze- 
kiel  was  commissioned  to  pass  1  On  all 
sides  are  the  remains  of  mighty  be- 
ings, born  for  immortality,  but  disloca- 
ted by  sin.  Can  these  be  men,  creatures 
fashioned  after  the  image  of  God,  and 
constructed  to  share  his  eternity  1 
What  disease  hath  been  here,  eating 
away  the  spiritual  sinew,  and  consum- 
ing the  spiritual  substance,  so  that  the 
race  which  walked  gloriously  erect  in 
the  free  light  of  heaven,  and  could 
hold  communion  with  angels,  hath  was- 
ted down  into  moral  skeletons,  yea, 
disjointed  fragments,  from  which  we 
may  just  guess  its  origin,  whilst  they 
publish  its  ruin  1  It  is  not  that  men  are 
the  spectres,  the  ghosts,  of  what  they 
were,  as  made  in  the  likeness  of  God, 
and  with  powers  for  intercourse  with 
what  is  loftiest  in  the  universe.  They 
have  gone  beyond  this.  It  is  in  their 
spiritual  and  deathless  part  that  they 
have  become  material  and  lifeless  :  it 
is  the  soul  from  which  the  breath  of 
heaven  has  been  taken  :  and  the  soul, 
deprived  of  this  breath,  seemed  turned 
into  a  thing  of  earth,  as  though  com- 
pounded, like  the  body,  of  dust;  and 
dwindled  away  till  its  fibres  were  shri- 
velled and  snapped,  and  its  powers  la}?^ 
scattered  and  enervated,  like  bones 
where  the  war  has  raged  and  the  winds 
have  sv.'ept.  It  may  indeed  seem  like 
ascribing  what  is  corporeal  to  spirit, 
and  forgetting  the  very  nature  of  the 
soul,  thus  to  speak  of  man's  imperish- 
able part,  as  we   would  of  his  body 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


309 


when  resolved  into  its  elements.  But 
the  very  thing  of  which  we  accuse 
man,  is  that,  by  his  apostacy,  he  has 
assimilated  the  soul  to  the  body;  he 
has  so  buried  the  immaterial  in  the 
material,  the  half  deity  in  the  half  dust, 
that  we  know  him  not  as  the  compound 
of  the  ethereal  and  the  earthly,  but  as 
all  flesh,  just  as  though  the  mortal 
had  crushed  and  extinguished  the  very 
principle  of  immortality.  And,  there- 
fore, do  we  describe  him,  in  his  moral 
capacity,  by  terms  which,  in  their  strict 
import,  apply  to  him  only  as  formed 
out  of  matter  :  "  a  spirit,"  said  Christ, 
"  hath  not  flesh  and  blood  ;"  but  never- 
theless we  may  speak  of  the  soul  as 
wasted  into  a  skeleton,  and  then  of 
that  skeleton  as  broken  into  fragments, 
because  it  may  be  declared  of  the 
whole  man,  that  he  "  is  of  the  earth, 
earthy,"  that  he  has  become,  in  his 
every  respect,  as  though  made  of  the 
corruptible,  and  resolvable  into  it. 

We  declare  then  again,  that,  if  this 
globe  be  taken  as  the  valley  of  vision, 
it  is   strewed  with   bones,  as  though 
countless  armies  had   been   slain,  and 
their  bodies  left  unburied.  We  declare 
of  any  narrow  section  of  this  valley, 
which  God  may  set  us  specially  to  ob- 
serve, that,   if  not  filled  with  the  re- 
mains of  slaughtered  thousands,   it   is 
occupied  by  souls  ''  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins ;"  that  there  are,  on  the  right 
hand  and  on  the  left,  enervated  pow- 
ers,   and  torpid  energies,    and   extin- 
guished affections,  which  belonged  ori- 
ginally to  an  immortal  spirit,  but  which 
now  serve  only  to  remind  us  of  such  a 
spirit,  as  the  confused  relics  in  a  char- 
nel-house can  but  remind  us  of  the  hu- 
man form.    Ay,  if  the  Spirit  of  the  liv- 
ing God  were  to  enable  us  to  inspect 
this   assembly,   as  it  enabled  the   pro- 
phet to  take  the  survey  of  the  valley, 
we   know    that  we  should    find   in    it, 
spiritually  considered,  a   vast  mass  of 
wasted    strength,  and   withered    fibre, 
and  broken  muscle  ;  evidences  as  irre- 
sistible  of  souls    that    have    long  lain 
dead,  as  were  the  bones  <vhich  had  no 
flesh  without  and  no  marrow  within,  of 
bodies  long  since  decomposed  and  dis- 
solved.    We   know  that,   with  all  that 
elasticity  and   activity  which   the  un- 
converted   amongst   you   can    display, 
when  the  objects  of  sense   solicit  their 
pursuit,  we  should  find  every  faculty 


so  benumbed,  and  every  capacity  so 
closed,  in  regard  to  the  high  things  of 
eternity,  that  we  should  be  as  much 
forced  to  pronouce  them  the  mere  ske- 
letons of  immortal  beings,  as  to  pro- 
claim them  only  the  fragments  of  men, 
were  we  to  see  what  might  be  left  from 
the  gnawings  of  the  grave.  And,  if  we 
had  nothing  to  judge  by  but  the  appa- 
rent probability,  so  little  ground  would 
there  be  for  expecting  the  resurrection 
of  these  souls,  and  their  re-endowment 
with  the  departed  vitality,  that  if,  after 
wandering  to  and  fro  through  the  val- 
ley, and  mourning  over  the  ruins  of 
what  had  been  created  magnificent  and 
enduring,  there  should  come  to  us,  as 
to  the  prophet,  the  voice  of  the  Al- 
mighty, "  Son  of  man,  can  these  bones 
live  1"  our  ainswer  could  be  only  the 
meek  confession  of  ignorance,  "  0 
Lord  God,  thou  knowest." 

But  we  go  on  to  observe  that  the 
parable  is  not  more  accurate,  as  deli- 
neating our  condition  by  nature,  than 
as  exhibiting  the  possibility  of  a  resto- 
ration to  life.  It  might  have  seemed  a 
hopeless  and  useless  thing,  that  Eze- 
kiel  should  prophesy  to  the  dry  bones 
in  the  valley  ;  and  if  the  souls  which 
we  desire  to  convert,  be,  as  we  have 
described  them,  actually  dead,  it  may 
appear  a  vain  thing  to  preach,  and  thus 
to  deal  with  them  as  though  they  were 
the  living.  But  the  prophet  did  not  he- 
sitate ;  his  commission  was  clear  ;  and 
he  allowed  not  unbelief  to  withhold 
him  from  addressing  the  inanimate 
piles  by  which  he  was  surrounded. 
Neither  are  we  to  be  deterred  by  the 
lifelessness  of  the  parties  on  whom  we 
have  to  act ;  the  command  is  positive  ; 
we  are  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  those  of 
whom  we  believe  that  they  are  spiri- 
tually in  the  grave,  and  to  say  to  them, 
without  any  wavering  because  they 
seem  unable  to  hear,  "Awake,  thou 
that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead, 
and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light."  And 
we  bless  God  that,  however  weak  and 
inefficient,  to  all  appearance,  the  instru- 
mentality employed,  there  is  often  the 
same  result  as  followed  the  prophesy- 
ing of  Ezekiel ;  as  the  dry  bones  were 
stirred,  so  are  the  dead  souls  also  start- 
led. It  cometh  frequently  to  pass,  more 
frequently,  it  may  be,  than  shall  be 
known  till  all  secrets  are  laid  bare  at 
the  great  day  of  judgment  j  that,  when 


310 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    DRY    BO.NES. 


the  minister  of  Christ  is  launching  the 
thunders  of  the  word,  or  dilating,  with 
all  persuasiveness,  on  the  provision 
which  has  been  made  for  the  repentant, 
a  sound  is  heard,  if  not  by  men,  yet  by 
the  attendant  angels  who  throng  our 
sanctuaries  ;  the  sound  of  an  agitated 
spirit,  moving  in  its  grave-clothes,  as 
though  the  cold  relics  were  mysterious- 
ly perturbed.  The  prophesying  goes 
on  in  the  valley  of  vision  ;  and  there  is 
a  shaking  amongst  the  bones,  as  close 
appeals  are  made  to  the  long  torpid 
conscience,  and  the  motives  of  an  af- 
ter state  of  being  are  brought  to  bear 
upon  those  Avho  are  dead  in  their  sins. 
And  then  may  it  be  said  that  bone  com- 
eth  unto  bone — the  different  faculties 
of  the  soul,  which  have  heretofore  been 
disjointed  and  dispersed,  combining 
into  one  resolve  and  eflbrt  to  repent 
and  forsake  sin — and  that  sinews  and 
llcsh  knit  together,  and  clothe  the 
bones,  the  various  powers  of  the  inner 
man  being  each  roused  to  its  due  work  ; 
so  that,  as  there  appeared  before  the 
prophet  the  complete  human  body  in 
exchange  for  the  broken  skeleton,  we 
have  now  a  spirit  stung  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  its  immortality,  where 
we  had  before  the  undying  without 
sign  of  animation. 

But  this  is  not  enough.  There  may 
be  conviction  of  sin,  and  a  sense  of  the 
necessity  that  some  great  endeavor  be 
made  to  secure  its  forgiveness ;  and 
thus  may  the  soul,  no  longer  resolved 
into  inefficient  fragments,  be  bound  to- 
gether as  the  heir  of  eternity  ;  yet  there 
may  not  be  spiritual  life,  for  the  soul 
may  not  have  been  quickened  with  the 
breath  which  is  from  heaven.  There  is 
a  great  difTerence  between  the  man 
who  is  not  caring  for  salvation  at  all, 
and  another  who  has  been  stirred  to 
anxiety,  but  nevertheless  has  not  sub- 
mitted himself  to  the  teachings  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  The  former  has  only  the 
skeleton,  the  naked  and  broken  frame- 
work of  a  soul;  whereas  in  the  latter 
there  has  been  the  compacting  and 
clothing  the  anatomy.  Yet  the  one 
may  not  have  spiritual  life  any  more 
than  the  other.  He  may  execute  some 
of  the  motions  of  a  living  thing,  and 
not  be  actually  resuscitated  ;  as  such  a 
power  as  galvanism  might  have  caused 
the  limbs  of  the  bodies,  which  thronged 
suddenly  the  valley  of  vision,  to  stir  as 


with  life,  though  there  had  been  no  vi- 
tal principle.  Accordingly,  the  parable 
does  not  end  with  the  formation  of  the 
perfect  body,  figurative  as  that  was  of 
the  reconstruction  of  the  soul  into  a 
being  aware  of  its  immortality;  it  pro- 
ceeds to  the  animating  the  body,  and 
thus  to  the  representing  the  quicken- 
ing of  the  soul.  The  prophet  is  com- 
manded to  prophesy  unto  the  wind, 
and  then  breath  comes  into  the  bodies 
which  he  had  seen  succeed  the  scat- 
tered bones.  This  part  of  the  parable 
is  expressly  interpreted  as  denoting  the 
entrance  of  God's  Spirit  into  the  house 
of  Israel,  that  they  might  live ;  and  we 
therefore  learn  the  important  truth, 
that,  whatever  the  advances  which  may 
be  made  towards  the  symmetry  and 
features  of  a  new  creature,  there  is  no- 
thing that  can  be  called  life,  until  the 
Holy  Ghost  come  and  breathe  upon  the 
slain.  And  we  have  to  bless  God  that, 
in  this  part  also,  the  vision  is  continu- 
ally receiving  its  accomplishment.  We 
preach  the  word  unto  these  bones;  we 
say  unto  them,  "  O  ye  dry  bones,  hear 
the  word  of  the  Lord !"  We  preach  it 
in  the  belief,  that,  though  there  seem 
no  organ  of  hearing,  God  can  procure 
it  admission  where  he  designs  it  to 
be  effectual ;  and  accordingly  there  is 
often,  as  we  have  told  you,  a  shaking 
amongst  the  bones;  and  souls  which 
had  heretofore  seemed  sepulchred  in 
matter,  arise  as  if  elastic  with  im- 
mortality, and  eagerly  inquire,  "  What 
must  we  do  to  be  saved  1"  But  this  is 
not  necessarily  conversion;  this  may 
be  only  conviction;  after  a  few  strug- 
glings  and  heavings,  what  we  had  look- 
ed upon  as  revived  may  relapse  into 
insensibility.  It  would  do  so,  if  the  Spi- 
rit of  the  living  God  were  not  to  enter 
as  the  breath  of  the  soul.  But  it  does 
thus  enter  ;  and  the  "  dead  in  trespass- 
es and  sins"  stand  upon  their  feet,  and 
"  run  with  patience  the  race  set  before 
them."  It  is  the  special  office  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  to  open  the  graves  in  which 
sinners  lie,  and  to  animate  the  moral 
corpse,  so  that  the  dead  are  "  born 
again."  There  would  be  no  use  in  our 
prophesying  upon  the  bones,  if  there 
were  not  this  divine  agent  to  revivify  the 
buried  :  we  mio-ht  indeed  cjo  down  into 
the  sepulchres,  and  gather  together  the 
mouldering  remains  of  humanity,  and 
compound  them  into  a  body,  and  then, 


THE    RESURRECTION    OF    DRY    BONES, 


311 


as  by  the  strange  power  of  electricity,  I  the  valley  which  Ezekiel  traversed, 
work  the  limbs  into  a  brief  and  fearful  such  was  the  result  of  his  prophesying. 
imitation  of  the  living  thing :  but  the  On  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  be- 
active  and  persevering  wrestler  for  the  i  fore  and  behind,  the  bones  stirred  as  if 
prizes  of  eternity,  oh!  the  Spirit  of  i  instinct  with  life,  and  the  seer  was 
God  must  be  in  every  member  of  this  |  quickly  encompassed  by  rank  upon 
creature,  and  in  every  nerve,  and  in  j  rank  of  the  children  of  the  resurrec- 
every  muscle;  and  let  that  Spirit  only  '<  tion.  What  would  be  the  parallel  to 
be  taken  from  him,  and  presently  would  I  this,  if,  at  this  moment,  and  in  this 
you  observe  a  torpor  creeping  over  his  place,  the  parable  were  to  be  spiritual- 
frame,  and  all  the  tokens  of  moral  death  !  ly  fulfilled  1  It  would  be,  that,  if  there 
succeeding  to  the  line  play  of  the  pulses  j  be  still  amongst  you  the  tens,  or  the 
of  moral  life.  I  fifties,  or  the  hundreds,  of  souls  sepul- 

To  the  Spirit,  then,  of  God  we  refer    chred  in  flesh,  these  tens,  or  these  fif- 
exclusively  that  work  of  resuscitating    ties,  or  these  hundreds,  would  be  rous- 


dead  souls,  which  was  represented  in 
vision  to  the  prophet  Ezekiel.  We  say 
to  every  one  of  you,  that,  if  he  have 


ed  by  the  announcement  of  wrath  to 
come,  and  spring  into  consciousness 
that  they  have  been  born  for  eternity ; 


not  this  spirit,  it  is  not  his  being  awake  I  so  that,  however,  at  the  commencement 


to  the  fact  of  his  having  a  soul,  it  is 
not  his  admission  of  a  system  of  ortho- 
dox divinity,  it  is  not  his  membership 
with  an  apostolical  church,  it  is  not  his 
diligent  performance  of  a  certain  set  of 
duties,  which  can  assure  us  that  he 
lives — we  read  in  the  book  of  Revela- 
tion of  some  who  had  a  name  that  they 
lived,  and  yet  were  dead — all  this  may 
prove  nothing  more  than  the  binding 
of  bone  to  bone,  and  the  covering  them 
with  flesh,  so  that  the  ghastliness  of 
the  skeleton  has  been  exchanged  for 
the  comeliness  of  the  perfect  body. 
Unless  you  are  actuated  by  the  Holy 
(ihost  as  your  vital  principle,  feeling 
and  obeying  his  motions,  depending  on 
his  influences,  laboring  in  his  strength, 
Ave  are  bound  to  tell  you  that  you  are 
duped  by  the  worst  jugglerj'^  ever  prac- 
tised on  a  rational  creature  ;  the  dead 


of  oilr  worshipping,  the  dry  bones  had 
been  scattered  profusely  amongst  us, 
at  its  close  the  whole  assembly  would 
be  one  mass  of  life,  and  no  individual 
would  depart,  as  he  came,  "dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins."  It  would  be — we 
dare  not  expect  so  mighty  a  resuscita- 
tion, and  yet  days  shall  come  when 
even  nations  shall  be  "  born  in  a  day," 
— that  whatsoever  is  human  within 
these  walls  would  bear  traces  of  a  new 
creation,  and  man,  woman,  child,  be 
"alive  unto  God"  through  Christ  Jesus 
their  Lord.  And  if  the  spiritual  fulfil- 
ment were  efl'ected  throughout  the 
whole  valley  of  vision,  we  should  be 
living  beneath  the  millennial  dispensa- 
tion, in  that  blessed  season  when  all 
are  to  know  the  Lord  "  from  the  least 
to  the  greatest,"  and  the  knowledge  of 
his  glory  is  to  fill  the  earth,  "  as  the 


is  made  to  pass  for  the  living,  and  the  j  waters  cover  the  sea."  In  exchange  for 
fantastic  movements  of  an  image  are  '  the  millions  who  now  sit  in  darkness 
mistaken  for  the  free  soarings  of  an  in-    and  the  shadow  of  death,  buried  in  su- 


telligent  being. 

But  there  is  one  respect  in  which  the 
vision,  as  thus  interpreted,  appears  not 
to  be  thoroughly  accomplished.     We 


perstition  and  ignorance,  we  should 
have  the  universal  population  of  this 
globe  rejoicing  in  acquaintance  Avith 
Christ,  and  bringing  forth  the  fruits  of 


carry  on  our  prophesying  over  the  \  righteousness  to  his  praise.  And  what 
heaps  of  dry  bones;  and  now  and  then  j  though  the  valley  be  still  full  of  dry 
there  may  be  produced  the  effects  of  i  bones,  life  having  only  here  and  there 
which  we  have  spoken  :  a  solitary  sin-  I  entered  into  the  funeral  pilesl  a  thou- 
ner  arises  from  his  lethargy,  and  sets  {  sand  prophecies  centre  in  the  future, 
himself  to  the  working  out  salvation,  j  all  assuring  us  of  a  spiritual  resurrec- 
But  what  is  there  in  any  one  district  tion,  general  as  will  be  that,  when  sea, 
of  the  A-'alley ;  nay,  what  is  there  in  the  and  mountain,  and  desert  shall  give  up 
combined  districts  of  the  valley,  sup-  their  dead.  It  seems  the  representation 
posing  that  valley  to  incltxde  the  whole  of  these  prophecies,  that  Christianity 
earth  ;  which  answers  to  the  starting  ,  shall  not  advance,  by  successive  steps, 
up  of  "an  exceeding  great  army  V  In  [  to  universal  dominion,  but  that  a  time 


312 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  DRY  BONES. 


of  great   depression,    yea,    almost    of 
extinction,  shall  immediately  precede 
that  of  unlimited  sovereignty.     When 
Isaiah  calls  to  the  prostrate  Jerusalem, 
"Arise,  shine,  for  thy  light  is  come," 
he  adds,  "  Behold,  the  darkness  shall 
cover  the  earth,  and  gross  darkness  the 
people" — thus  intimating,  that,  at  the 
very  moment  of  the  restitution  of  all 
things,  a  deeper  than  the  ordinary  night 
shall  rest  on  the  nations  of  the  world. 
And,  therefore,  may  it  be  that  the  as- 
pect of  the  globe,  as  the  day  draws  on 
of  its  glorious  renovation,  will  be  more 
than  ever  that  of  the  valley  of  vision, 
ere  the  prophesying  commenced,  and 
the  skeletons  moved.    Ezekiel  might 
be  brought  from  his  rest,  and  set  down 
in  the  midst  of  the  valley  ;  and  he  would 
still  have  to  say  that  the  bones  were 
very   many,   and    very   dry.     But    the 
Lord's  arm  will  not  be  "  shortened  that 
it  cannot  save  :"   suddenly,  \vhen  there 
might  appear  least  likelihood  of  a  shak- 
ing amongst  the  countless  heaps,  shall 
a  vivifying  energy  go  out  through  the 
length  and  the   breadth   of  the    slain 
population.    "  The  dead  shall  hear  the 
voice  of  the  Son  of  man,  and  they  that 
hear  shall  live."  Every  where  shall  the 
process  be  rapidly  carried  on  of  the 
bones  being  combined  into  the  skele- 
ton,  and  covered  with  the  flesh,  and 
animated  by  the  Spirit,  till  the  whole 
earth  shall  ring  with  the  tread  of  the 
"  exceeding  great  army."    This  will  be 
the  perfect  accomplishment  of  the  pro- 
phetic vision.    When  every  nation,  and 
tribe,  and  tongue,  shall  have  cast  its 
idols  "to  the  moles  and  to  the  bats;" 
when  the  religion  of  Christ  shall  have 
extirpated     every     superstition,     and 
shrined    itself    in    every    heart ;    then 
shall  there    be    a   moral    resurrection 
commensurate    with    the     marvellous 
quickening  of  the  dead  on  which  Eze- 
kiel   gazed :    the    spiritual    sepulchres 
will  be  emptied,  and  the  almost  quench- 
ed immortality  be  every  where  re-il- 
lumined. 

Yet  though  the  parable,  when  moral- 
ly interpreted,  be  thus  now  receiving  a 
partial,  and  expecting  a  plenary,  ac- 
complishment, who  can  doubt,  that,  in 
its  literal  import,  it  had  respect  to  that 
resurrection  of  the  dead  which  will 
precede  the  general  judgment  1  We 
regard  the  parable  as  one  of  those  few 
portions  of  the  Old  Testament  from 


which  might  be  inferred  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  body.     The  illustrating  by 
the  imagery  of  a  resurrection,  was  al- 
most the  inculcating  the  doctrine  of  a 
resurrection.    And,  whether   thus  un- 
derstood or  not  by  the  Jews,  we  may 
safely  affirm    that,   to    ourselves,    the 
whole  transaction  in  the  valley  of  vis- 
ion should  present,  under  figures  of  ex- 
traordinary energy,  man's  final  coming 
up  from  the   dust  of  the   earth.    The 
trumpet  of  the  archangel  shall  prophe- 
sy over  the   dry  bones:    its  piercing 
blast  shall  say,  "  0  ye  dry  bones,  hear 
the  word  of  the  Lord."    Who  can  tell 
the  shaking  that  shall  follow  this  pro- 
phecy— the  earth  heaving  at  its  very 
core,  that  myriads  upon  myriads  may 
burst  from  its  womb  1    Then  shall  be 
the  coming  of  bone  unto  bone  :  myste- 
rious announcement!    the    dust    shall 
seek  its  kindred  dust ;  and  though  the 
elements  of  the  body  may  have  been 
dispersed  to  the  four  quarters  of  the 
earth,  yet  will  they  re-assemble,  so  that 
every  man   shall  have  his  own.    And 
then  shall  there  be  a  prophesying  to  the 
souls  in  the  separate  state,  as  well  as 
to  the  bones  in  the  sepulchres.    The 
souls  shall  know  that  the  moment  of 
reunion  has  arrived,  and  rush  down  to 
possess   their   reconstructed    taberna- 
cles.   Then,  when  the  whole  man  lives 
again,  and  the  buried  generations,  from 
Adam  to  the  last-born  of  his  line,  have 
put    on   immortality,    "  the   exceeding 
great  army"  shall  march  to  judgment. 
We    cannot   follow  them — the  eye  is 
blinded  by  the  interminable  multitude, 
and  the  ear  deafened  by  the  tramp  of 
the  countless  millions.     But   we  shall 
be  there,  every  one  of  us  shall  be  there, 
to  augment  the  crowd,  and  swell  the 
thunder.    O  God,  breathe  now  on  the 
dry  bones,  that   none  of  us  be   here- 
after amongst  those  who   shall   awake 
"to  shame  and  everlasting  contempt." 
Again    and  again  we   prophesy  upon 
the  dry  bones.    We  are  not  deterred 
by   the    apparent    hopelessness.     We 
have  often  prophesied  in  vain.    There 
has  been  no  shaking  amongst  the  bones. 
Numbers  have  come  unconverted,  and 
numbers  have  gone  away  unconverted. 
But  we   will   execute  our  commission 
once  more,  and,  0  that  this  time  it  may 
startle  and  agitate  the  dead — "  let  the 
wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  un- 
righteous man  his  thoughts,  and  let 


PROTESTANTISM  AND  POPERY. 


313 


him   return   unto    the    Lord  5   and   he  I  our  God,  for   he  will  abundantly  par- 
will   have  mercy  upon   him  ;   and    to  |  don." 


SERMON   lY. 


PROTESTANTISM    AND    POPERY. 


If  it  be  pos.-;ible,  as  much  as  lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably  with  all  men."— Romans,  12  :  IS. 


In  one  of  those  touching  addresses 
which  Christ  delivered  to  his  disciples 
shortly  before  his  crucifixion,  he  be- 
queathed them,  as  you  will  remember, 
the  legacy  of  peace.  "  Peace  I  leave 
with  you  5  my  peace  I  give  unto  you  : 
not  as  the  world  giveth,  give  I  unto 
you."  It  is  observable  that  the  peace, 
thus  left  us  by  Christ,  is  emphatically 
his  peace  ;  "  my  peace  I  give  unto  you  " 
— and  accordingly,  we  have  a  petition 
in  our  litany,  "O  Lamb  of  God,  that 
takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  grant 
us  thy  peace."  Though  bearing  the  ti- 
tle of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  we  know 
that  Christ  said  in  regard  of  himself, 
"Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  send 
peace  on  the  earth;  I  am  not  come  to 
send  peace,  but  a  sword."  Hence  it 
may  be  inferred  that  the  peace,  which 
may  be  called  Christ's  peace,  that 
which  Christ  bequeathed  and  for  which 
we  pray,  is  not  a  peace  which  is  neces- 
sarily to  banish  all  divisions,  but  which 
is  rather  to  subsist  in  the  midst  of  di- 
visions. The  peace  w^hich  Christ  en- 
joyed as  the  founder  of  Christianity, 
and  which  he  may  be  regarded  as  in- 
tending when  he  spake  of  his  peace, 
resulted  from  a  consciousness  that  he 
was  doing  the  will  of  God,  and  pro- 
moting the  good  of  man.  It  was  an  in- 
ternal rather  than  an  external  peace: 
for  without  were  wars  and  fightings, 
the  opposition  of  avowed  enemies,  and 
the  coldness  and  suspicion  even  of 
friends.    His  peace,  therefore,  was  not 


peace  with  those  around.  There  was 
charity,  full  and  fervent  charity,  to- 
wards men  most  vehement  in  their  en- 
mity; but,  at  the  same  time,  there  was 
an  unflinching  exposure  of  their  faults, 
and  a  determined  opposition  to  their 
practices. 

We  may  safely  declare  of  Christ, 
that  he  never  purchased  peace  by  any 
thing  like  compromise.  Though  his 
heart  overflowed  with  love  towards 
the  Avhole  human  race,  he  was  far  from 
being  indulgent  to  their  sins;  on  the 
contrary,  he  was  too  much  their  friend 
to  be  any  thing  but  the  stern  reprover 
of  their  vices.  Hence  he  had  peace  of 
conscience,  rather  than  of  condition; 
he  indeed  desired,  and  labored  for 
both ;  but  living  in  the  midst  of  a  sin- 
ful and  perverse  generation,  he  could 
not  be  at  peace  with  mankind,  save 
by  leaving  them  unrebuked  ;  and  this 
would  have  been  to  purchase  quiet  by 
neglecting  duty.  The  church,  there- 
fore, may  thoroughly  possess  the  lega- 
cy of  peace  bequeathed  to  her  by  Christ, 
and  yet  have  no  concord  with  the  great 
mass  of  men.  It  may  even  be  bound  on 
her  to  do  much  by  which,  to  all  appear- 
ance, divisions  will  be  fomented  :  for  if 
she  would  imitate  Christ,  and  thus  en- 
joy his  peace,  she  must  be  bold  in  de- 
nouncing every  error,  and  never  think 
that  true  brotherhood  can  be  main- 
tained by  compromising  principles.  It 
is  unquestionably  her  business  to  fol- 
low after  the  things  *'  that  make  for 
40 


31-i 


PROTESTjtNTISM    AND    POPERY. 


peace  ;"  but  she  is  to  take  special  care, 
lest,  in  her  eagerness  to  prevent  dis- 
cord, she  surrender  truth,  and  ward  off 
separations  by  unwarrantable  sacrifices. 
Now  the  words  of  our  text  may  be 
said  to  contemplate  exactly  that  peace 
which  may  thus  be  regarded  as  be- 
ijueathed  to  ns  by  Christ.  The  apostle 
enjoins  as  a  duty,  that  we  strive  to 
live  peaceably  with  all ;  but  plainly  in- 
timates that  it  would  be  difficult  to  do 
so,  or  perhaps  even  impossible.  He  in- 
troduces two  restrictive  clauses,  "  if  it 
be  possible,"  and,  "  as  much  as  lieth 
in  you  :"  the  latter  implying  that  there 
were  cases  in  which  it  would  be  a 
christian's  own  fault  if  disunion  en- 
sued ;  the  former,  that,  probably,  no 
amount  of  diligence  and  care  could  in- 
sure the  universal  harmony.  It  would 
seem,  indeed,  from  the  context  of  the 
verse,  that  St.  Paul  refers  not  so  much 
to  schisms  in  the  visible  church,  as  to 
differences  and  quarrels  between  man 
and  man.  But  a  rule,  designed  for  the 
guidance  of  christians  in  their  indivi- 
dual, must  be  applicable  also  in  their 
collective  capacity.  If  it  be  the  duty 
of  every  member  of  the  church,  so  far 
as  in  him  lies,  to  live  peaceably  with 
others,  it  must  undoubtedly  be  the  du- 
ty of  the  church,  as  a  body,  to  do  all 
m  her  power  towards  promoting  union 
and  preventing  schism.  In  each  case, 
however,  there  may  be  a  point  at  which 
separation  becomes  unavoidable  ;  and 
therefore  are  the  words,  "  if  it  be  pos- 
sible," prefixed  to  the  precept.  In  the 
instance  of  an  individual,  the  conduct 
of  others  may  be  so  injurious  and  op- 
pressive, that,  with  every  disposition 
to  concede,  and  the  greatest  patience 
under  wrong,  it  may  be  absolutely  ne- 
cessary to  shun  intercourse,  and  even 
to  adopt  measures  for  self-defence.  In 
the  instance  of  a  church,  the  tenets  of 
some  of  her  professed  members  may 
be  so  inconsistent  with  truth,  or  their 
practice  so  opposed  to  the  Gospel,  that 
to  retain  them  in  hercommunion  would 
be  faithlessness  to  her  Master.  Or  a 
church,  in  her  collective  capacity,  may 
grievously  depart  from  the  faith  "  once 
delivered  to  the  saints:"  she  may  in- 
troduce unsound  doctrines,  or  supersti- 
tious observances  :  and  then  may  it  be 
the  duty  of  those  of  her  members,  who 
are  still  zealous  for  "truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,"   to  protest  firmly  against  the 


abomination,  and  finally  to  dissolve 
their  union  with  that  church,  if  she 
will  not  put  from  her  the  falsehood  and 
idolatry. 

The  main  thing  to  be  borne  in  mind, 
is,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  that 
peace  is  too  dearly  purchased,  if  pur- 
chased by  the  least  surrender  of  prin- 
ciple. That  unity  deserves  not  the 
name,  which  is  produced  by  the  reso- 
lution of  avoiding,  by  mutual  conces- 
sions, all  differences  in  opinion.  On 
points  which  are  not  fundamental  much 
may  be  done  by  mutual  concessions  ; 
and  they  must  have  much  to  answer 
for,  who  have  torn  and  divided  the  vi- 
sible church,  when  the  matter  in  de- 
bate has  been  one  of  mere  ceremony^ 
or,  at  least,  one  involving  nothing  of 
indispensable  truth.  We  doubt  whe- 
ther the  mass  of  those,  who,  in  mo- 
dern days,  have  introduced  sects  and 
divisions  amongst  christians,  could 
prove,  in  vindication  of  their  conduct, 
that  they  had  implicitly  obeyed  the  di- 
rection of  our  text.  It  might  be  hard 
to  shov/,  if  the  grounds  qf  separation 
w^ere  rigidly  examined,  that  the  impos- 
sible point  had  been  reached,  the  point, 
that  is,  at  which,  if  union  be  preserved, 
fundamental  truth  must  be  compro- 
mised. It  should  then  only  be  impos- 
sible to  a  christian  to  live  peaceably, 
when,  to  avoid  schism,  he  must  toler- 
ate fatal  error.  And  if  separatists  can- 
not make  good  their  separation  on  this 
simple  principle,  their  failing  to  live 
peaceably  is  not  to  be  sheltered  under 
the  first  clause  of  our  text :  it  must 
rather  vindicate  itself  by  the  second, 
"  as  much  as  in  you  lieth  ;"  and  then 
there  is  a  question  %vhich  none  but 
God  can  decide,  how  far  the  infirmity, 
which  caused  unnecessary  division, 
was  sinful,  and  how  far  unavoidable. 

But  whatever  may  be  determined  in 
regard  of  any  particular  case  of  an  in- 
fraction of  peace,  the  general  rule,  al- 
ready stated,  is  manifestly  correct,  that 
whatever  is  not  fundamental  should  be 
given  up  for  the  sake  of  peace  5  but 
that  there  must  be  war  and  separation, 
if,  in  maintaining  peace,  we  have  to 
compromise  truth.  We  admit  indeed 
that  there  will  be  difficulty  in  applying 
this  rule  ;  for  since  the  Bible  nowhere 
divides  doctrines  into  those  which  are 
fundamental,  and  those  which  are  not, 
there  may  be  difference  of  opinion  as  to 


I'ROTESTANTISM    AND    POPERY. 


315 


the  class  to  which  a  certain  truth  be- 
longs, and,  therefore,  also  doubt  as  to 
whether  it  should  be  enforced  at  the 
risk  of  a  schism.  But  if  Scripture  have 
not  made  a  division  of  its  truths,  there 
are  some  which  manifestly  belong  to 
the  very  essence  of  Christianity ;  whilst 
others,  though  full  of  worth  and  in- 
struction, are  as  manifestly  subordi- 
nate, and  fill  a  lower  place  in  the  chris- 
tian economy.  There  are  points  on 
which  difference  of  opinion  may  be 
safely  permitted,  and  others  on  which 
unanimity  is  indispensable.  There  can, 
for  example,  be  no  sufficient  reason  for 
breaking  the  bond  of  peace  in  t^e  mat- 
ter of  predestination  ;  the  members  of 
a  church  may  abide  in  perfect  harmo- 
ny, though  some  hold,  and  others  do 
not,  the  doctrine  of  personal  election. 
But  if  the  debated  point  be  the  divinity 
of  Christ,  or  the  impossibility  of  justi- 
fication except  through  his  merits, 
there  must  be  unanimity,  at  whatever 
cost  obtained.  Christianity  is  nothing 
if  these  points  be  denied  ;  and  there- 
fore must  a  christian  church,  if  it  would 
not  forfeit  its  charactei*,  separate 
boldly  from  all  by  whom  they  are  re- 
jected. 

It  might  justly  be  expected  from  us, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  that  we 
should  examine,  in  greater  detail,  and 
with  more  precision,  where  the  point 
lies  at  which  peace  can  be  preserved 
only  by  compromising  principle.  But 
the  occasion  requires  us  to  speak  with 
peculiar  reference  to  Popery  and  the 
English  Reformation.  And  I,  for  one, 
am  glad  to  avail  myself  of  the  opportu- 
nity. I  cannot  put  away  the  persuasion, 
that  there  has  been  amongst  protest- 
ants  a  growing  ignorance  and  indiffer- 
ence with  regard  to  points  in  dispute 
between  the  Reformed  Church  and  the 
Papal ;  and  a  strengthening  opinion 
that  the  two,  after  all,  differ  in  little 
that  is  vital.  And  this  degeneracy  of 
protestantism  has  given  encouragement 
to  popery;  so  that  the  false  system, 
against  which  our  fathers  rose  man- 
fully up,  and  in  expelling  which  they 
perilled  substance  and  life,  has  been 
putting  forth  tokens  of  strength  and 
expansion.  If  this  be  true,  great  and 
manifest  is  the  need,  that  you  be  re- 
minded of  your  privileges,  and  warned 
against  "the  man  of  sin;"  and  I  could 
not  feel  justified  in  neglecting  an  op- 


portunity of  addrcfssing  you  specifical- 
ly as  protestants. 

Now  we  have  selected  our  text  in 
preference  to  many  which  might  seem 
more  appropriate,  because  we  consider 
that  every  point,  on  which  it  is  import- 
ant that  your  minds  be  strengthened 
or  informed,  is  involved  in  the  ques- 
tion, can  we,  as  disciples  of  Christ,  live 
peaceably  with  Rome  '?  "  If  it  be  possi- 
ble," saith  the  apostle,  "  as  much  as  in 
you  lieth,  live  peaceably  with  all  men." 
Apply  this  rule  to  achurch  ;  and  then, 
as  we  have  shown  you,  it  undoubted- 
ly demands  that  there  be  nothing  of 
schism  or  separation,  so  long  as  prin- 
ciples are  not  sacrificed  for  the  sake  of 
keeping  peace.  It  warrants  us  in  no- 
thing that  can  be  called  a  rending  of 
the  visible  church,  if  we  cannot  prove 
that  we  have  reached  the  point  at 
which  union  is  no  longer  possible ;  at 
which,  that  is,  if  union  be  preserved,  it 
must  be  at  the  expense  of  conscience, 
and  with  mortal  injury  to  truth.  And 
therefore  our  text  requires  us,  if  we 
would  vindicate  any  separation — such, 
for  instance,  as  that  of  the  English 
church  from  the  Roman — to  prove,  by 
most  rigid  demonstration,  that  separa- 
tion had  become  absolutely  a  duty  ;  and 
that,  if  it  had  been  avoided  in  order  to 
preserve  peace,  there  would  have  been 
a  surrender  of  the  principles  of  the 
Gospel  of  Christ.  Thus  we  are  thrown 
on  examining  the  reasons  which  led 
our  forefathers  to  break  off  commu- 
nion with  the  Roman  catholic  church, 
and  which  justify  our  own  refusal  to 
give  to  that  church  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship.  We  need  hardly  observe 
that  these  reasons  cannot  be  expound- 
ed, save  by  a  statement  of  the  doctrines 
of  popery,  as  contrasted  with  those  of 
protestantism  ;  so  that,  in  proving  to 
you  that  the  Reformation  involved  no 
disobedience  to  the  precept  of  our  text, 
we  shall  inform  or  remind  you  of  those 
great  points  of  difference  which  sepa- 
rate between  our  own  church  and  the 
papal.  It  will  be  well,  however,  that 
before  entering  on  the  inquiry  thus 
suggested,  we  take  notice  of  the  com- 
mon accusation,  that  we  were  guilty  of 
schism  at  the  Reformation,  and  conti- 
nue chargeable  with  this  guilt,  so  long 
as  we  return  not  into  the  bosom  of 
the  Roman  catholic  church.  We  shall, 
therefore,  make  it  our  business  to  en- 


316 


PEOTESTANTISM    AND    POPEKY. 


deavor,  in  the  first  place,  to  show  you 
that  there  was  no  schism,  properly  so 
called,  in  our  separation  from  Rome  ; 
in  the  second  place,  to  prove  to  you 
that  the  separation  was  demanded,  and 
is  still  justified  by  the  corruptions  of 
Rome. 

Now  it  is  one  of  the  great  doctrines 
of  popery,  as  you  must  all  be  aware, 
that  the  pope,  who  is  the  bishop  of  the 
Roman  church,  is  the  head  also  of  the 
universal  church  of  Christ,  so  that  he 
is  vested  with  supreme  authority  over 
all   bishops   and  pastors  in  every  sec- 
tion of  the  earth.     This  pretended  su- 
premacy of  the  pope  we  utterly  reject ; 
declaring  that  it  can  find  no  syllable  of 
vindication  in  the  Bible,  and  maintain- 
ing it  to  be  a  modern  and  insolent  as- 
sumption,  of  which  no   trace   can   be 
found  in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity, 
The  Bible  no   where  hints  that   there 
was  to  be   such   an  universal  head  of 
the   church  as   the   pope   professes  to 
be  ;  and   centuries  elapsed  before  the 
bishops  of  Rome  discovered,  that,  as  St. 
Peter's  successors,  they   had  right  to 
this  universal   lordship.    We   contend, 
therefore,  against  the  doctrine  of  pa- 
pal supremacy  as  utterly  unsanctioned, 
whether  by  Scripture  or  antiquity;  and 
we  maintain  that  the  pope  could  have 
had  no  power,   except  by  usurpation, 
over  the  branch  of  Christ's  church  es- 
tablished in  this  land.  He  indeed  claim- 
ed a  power,  and,  during  the  long  night 
of  ignorance,  the  claim  was  conceded. 
But  we  utterly  deny  that  he  had  right 
to  any  power,  because  Ave  utterly  deny 
that,  as  bishop  of  Rome,  he  was  vest- 
ed with  authority  over  other  parts  of 
Christ's   church.     Whatever   his  sway 
in   his  own  district,  England   was   no 
part  of  that  district ;  and  if  England, 
in  her  ignorance,  had  given  him  pow- 
er, England,  when  better  taught,   did 
but  justly  in  withdrawing  that  power. 
Hence  there  was  nothing  which,  with 
the  least  show  of  justice,  could  be  call- 
ed schism,  in  the  separation  of  the  Eng- 
lish  church   from   the  Roman.    There 
might  have  been  schism,  had  the  doc- 
trine of  Roman  catholics   been  true,  | 
that  the  pope  is  the  universal  head  of  I 
the   church ;    for   then   would   the    re- 
formers have  Avithdrawn  an  allegiance 
which  they  were  required  to  yield,  and 
detached  themselves  from  the  visible 
body  of  Christ.   It  is  another  question, 


what  would  have  been  their  duty  un- 
der such  circumstances;  we  now  only 
state  that,  before  the  charge  of  schism, 
properly  so  called,  can  be  substantia- 
ted, popery  must  be  proved  true,  in 
the  article  of  the  universal  headship 
of  the  pope  ;  for  unless  this  be  true, 
there  could  be  nothing  schismatical  in 
England's  refusing  to  acknowledge  any 
longer  the  authority  of  the  Roman  bi- 
shop, and  re-establishing  the  suprema- 
cy of  her  own  king  in  all  causes,  ec- 
clesiastical and  civil. 

And  we  need  not  say  that  Ave  are 
not  much  troubled  with  the  accusation 
of  schism,  so  long  as  it  cannot  be  made 
good  till  popery  have  been  proved  true. 
It  is  somewhat  bold  to  call  us  schisma- 
tics, Avhen  the  name  takes  for  granted 
what  we  contend  against  as  false,  that 
the  Roman  Catholic   Church  includes 
the  whole  visible.  And  we  wish  you  to 
observe,   that  there  Avere   no   spiritual 
ties  Avhich  necessarily  bound  together 
England  and  Rome.     We  were  not  in- 
debted  to  Rome   for  our  Christianity. 
W^hatever  may  be  thought  of  the  opi- 
nion  Avhich   has  been   supported  with 
great  learning  and  ability,  that  St.  Paul 
himself  preached  the  Gospel  in  Britain, 
and  ordained  a  bishop  here  before  there 
Avas  any  in  Rome  ;  so  that  the  Anglican 
Church   would   be   older  than  the   Ro- 
man;  it  is,  at  least,  certain  that  Chris- 
tianity made  its  way  into  these  islands 
at  a  very  early  period  ;  and  that,  Avhen 
the   missionaries   of   Rome  first  visit- 
ed our  shores,  they  found  a  christian 
church   already  established,  a  church 
whose  bishops  refused   submission  to 
the  pope,  though,  in  process  of  time, 
that  submission  was  yielded.    On  what 
principle,  then,  is  it  to  be  maintained, 
that  the   English  church  Avas  so  inte- 
gral a  portion  of  the  Roman,  that  there 
could    be   no   separation    without    the 
guilt  of  schism  1    The  English  church 
had  been  independent,  governed  by  its 
own  officers,  and  having  no  connection 
but  that  of  a  common  brotherhood  with 
other   parts   of   Christ's   visible   body. 
And  Rome  came  down  upon  it  in  sub- 
tilty  and  pride,  putting  forward  arro- 
gant claims,  and  asking  to  be  receiv- 
ed as  supreme  in  every  ecclesiastical 
cause.   The  times  Avere  those  in  Avhich 
moral  darkness  and  mental  were  fast 
pervading  the  earth,  and  Avhich  there- 
fore favored  the  bold  pretensions  of 


PROTESTANTISM    AND    POPERY. 


317 


ambitious  and  unprincipled  pontiffs. 
And  no  marvel,  if  England  yielded 
witii  the  rest  of  Christendom;  so  that 
a  church,  founded  in  apostolic  days, 
and  owing  no  allegiance  to  any  foreign 
power,  joined  in  the  false,  though  al- 
most univ^ersal,  confession,  that  the 
pope  was  the  vicegerent  of  Christ,  en- 
dowed with  unbounded  authority  over 
every  ecclesiastical  section. 

But  at  length  God  mercifully  inter- 
posed, and  raised  up  men  with  power 
and  disposition  to  examine  for  them- 
selves, and  with  intrepidity  to  proclaim 
the  result  of  their  searchings.  In  one 
country  after  another  of  Europe  arose 
those  who  had  prayerfully  studied  the 
Bible,  and  who  were  too  zealous  for 
truth,  too  warm  lovers  both  of  God 
and  of  man,  to  keep  silent  as  to  an 
assumption  which  Scripture  did  not 
sanction.  And  England  was  not  with- 
out her  worthies  and  champions  in  this 
great  and  general  struggle  for  eman- 
cipation. There  were  those  arfiongst 
her  children  who  felt  that  she  crouch- 
ed beneath  a  yoke  which  God  had  not 
ordained,  and  who,  therefore,  summon- 
ed her  to  rise,  and  reassert  her  inde- 
pendence. And  when  she  hearkened 
to  the  call,  and  rose  up  in  the  majesty 
of  a  strength  which  still  commands 
our  wonder,  and  shook  from  her  the 
yoke  of  papal  oppression,  declaring 
that  the  Roman  Pontiff  had  no  author- 
ity within  her  coasts — what  did  she  do 
but  resume  a  power  which  ought  never 
to  have  been  delegated,  and  resist  a 
claim  which  ought  never  to  have  been 
admitted!  In  the  season  of  ignorance, 
when  all  Europe  bent  to  the  spiritual 
tyrant,  she  had  made  herself  subject  to 
the  bishop  of  Rome  ;  and,  therefore,  in 
the  season  of  greater  knowledge,  when 
she  joined  other  lands  in  daring  to  be 
free,  she  did  nothing  but  take  what 
was  inalienably  her  own,  what  she  had 
parted  with  in  blindness,  but  what,  all 
the  while,  could  not  lawfully  be  sur- 
rendered. We  can  admit  then  nothing 
in  her  separation  from  the  Roman 
church  which  approximates  to  schism. 
She  had  committed  a  grievous  error, 
as  a  church,  in  acknowledging  the 
pope's  supremacy  ;  but  there  could  be 
nothing  like  schism  in  her  correcting 
the  error,  and  denying  that  supremacy. 
And  there  may  be  employed  all  the 
resources  of  casuistry  on  this  matter, 


the  partisans  of  Rome  laboring  to  brand 
the  reformers  as  schismatics ;  but  un- 
til it  can  be  proved,  proved  from  Scrip- 
ture and  the  early  fathers,  that  there 
is  no  other  church  but  the  Roman,  and 
that  the  head  of  this  church  has  been 
ordained  of  God  to  be  supreme  through- 
out Christendom  in  every  ecclesiasti- 
cal matter,  it  will  never  be  proved  that 
our  ancestors  in  the  sixteenth  century 
would  have  been  justified  in  continuing 
allegiance  to  the  pope  ;  never  there- 
fore, that,  in  transferring  that  allegi- 
ance to  their  own  anointed  king,  they 
were  unmindful  of  the  precept,  "If  it  be 
possible,  live  peaceably  with  all  men." 

Now  we  have  endeavored  to  set  this 
fact  under  the  most  simple  point  of 
view,  because  it  is  easy  to  involve  it 
in  mystery  and  perplexity.  The  act,  by 
which  we  separated  from  the  church 
of  Rome,  and  by  which,  therefore,  if 
by  any,  we  are  guilty  of  schism,  was 
the  act  by  which  we  denied  that  the 
pope  had  any  authority  whatsoever  in 
this  kingdom.  It  was  not,  strictly 
speaking,  by  our  denouncing  image 
worship,  by  our  denying  transubstan- 
tiation,  by  our  rejecting  the  mediation 
of  angels  and  saints,  that  we  ceased  to 
be  a  part  of  the  Roman  church:  that 
which  made  us  a  part  of  this  church 
was  the  acknowledging  the  pope  as  the 
ecclesiastical  head  ;  and  that  which  dis- 
solved our  union  with  this  church,  was 
the  refusing  to  continue  such  acknow- 
ledgment. Had  the  Roman  church  been 
free  from  all  the  corruptions  to  which 
we  have  referred,  holding  no  errone- 
ous doctrine  but  that  of  papal  supre- 
macy, separation  would  still  have  been 
a  duty:  there  would  still  have  been 
the  usurpation  of  our  monarch's  pow- 
er by  the  pope,  and  it  could  not  have 
been  schism  to  restore  that  power  to 
its  right  owner. 

But  we  will  now  wave  the  question 
of  schism  :  we  have  to  examine,  in  the 
second  place,  the  chief  points  of  dif- 
ference between  the  reformed  church 
and  the  Roman,  that  you  may  be  re- 
minded of  the  reasons  of  protestants 
for  refusing  peace  with  papists.  We 
formally  separated  from  Rome,  as  we 
have  just  explained,  by  refusing  to  ac- 
knowledge the  supremacy  of  the  pope  : 
but  it  was  chiefly  by  rejecting  cer- 
tain doctrines  and  observances,  and  by 
standing  up  for  truth  in  opposition  to 


318 


PEOTESTANTISM    AND    POPERY. 


error,  that  we  became  emphatically  a 
reformed  church,  and  gained  the  ho- 
norable title  of  protestants. 

We  do  not  deny,  and  this  we  must 
state  clearly  before  entering  on  the 
errors  of  Rome,  that  the  Roman  ca- 
tholic church  is  a  true  and  apostolic 
church — her  bishops  and  priests  deriv- 
ing their  authority,  in  an  unbroken  line, 
from  Christ  and  his  apostles.  Accord- 
ingly, if  a  Roman  catholic  priest  re- 
nounce what  we  count  the  errors  of 
popery,  our  church  immediately  re- 
ceives him  as  one  of  her  ministers,  re- 
quiring no  fresh  ordination  before  she 
will  allow  him  to  officiate  at  her  altars, 
though  she  grants  not  the  like  privi- 
lege to  other  claimants  of  the  ministe- 
rial office.  If  his  ordination  be  not,  in 
every  sense,  valid,  neither  is  our  own  : 
for  if  we  have  derived  ours  from  the 
apostles,  it  has  been  through  the  chan- 
nel of  the  Roman  catholic  church  ;  so 
that,  to  deny  the  transmission  of  au- 
thority in  the  popish  priesthood  since 
the  reformation,  would  be  to  deny  it 
before  ;  and  thus  should  we  be  left  with- 
out any  ordination  which  could  be  tra- 
ced back  to  the  apostles.  Hence  there  is 
no  question,  that,  on  the  principles  of 
an  Episcopal  church,  the  Roman  catho- 
lic is  a  true  branch  of  Christ's  church, 
however  grievously  corrupted  and  fear- 
fully deformed.  It  is  a  true  church,  in- 
asmuch as  its  ministers  have  been  duly 
invested  with  authority  to  preach  the 
word  and  dispense  the  sacraments  :  it 
is  a  true  church  moreover,  inasmuch  as 
it  has  never  ceased  to  "  hold  the  head, 
which  is  Christ,"  and  to  acknowledge 
the  fundamental  truth  of  our  religion, 
that  Jesus,  God  as  well  as  man,  died 
as  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the 
world. 

And  all  this  was  distinctly  recogni- 
zed by  the  reformers  of  the  English 
church,  whatever  it  may  have  been  by 
those  of  other  countries.  They  made 
no  alteration  in  the  constitution  of  the 
church  :  they  saw  in  the  Roman  catho- 
lic churcii  the  true  foundation  and 
framework  of  a  church;  but  they  saw 
also  that  on  this  foundation  had  been 
laid,  and  into  this  framework  had  been 
woven,  many  and  gross  errors,  which 
were  calculated  to  destroy  the  souls  of 
its  members.  And  it  was  to  the  work 
of  removing  these  errors  that  they  stren- 
uously gave  themselves— not  wishing 


[  to  meddle  with  the  foundation,  or  to 
[destroy  the  framework;  but  simply 
to  take  away  those  human  inventions 
and  "Superstitious  observances,  beneath 
which  genuine  Christianity  was  almost 
hidden,  or  rather  almost  buried.  And 
so  blessed  were  they  of  God  with  sin- 
gular discretion,  as  well  as  courage, 
that  they  achieved  the  noble  result  of 
a  church  holding  all  that  is  apostolic  in 
doctrine,  without  letting  go  one  jot  of 
what  is  apostolic  in  government.  They 
achieved  the  result,  the  only  result  at 
which,  as  reformers,  they  could  law- 
fully aim,  of  making  the  church,  both 
in  creed  and  in  discipline,  what  the 
church  had  been  in  primitive  times;, 
removing  from  it  whatsoever  had  not 
the  sanction  of  Scripture  and  antiquity, 
and  retaining  whatsoever  had.  And 
thus  there  sprang  from  their  labors 
what  might  literally  be  called  a  reform- 
ed church — not  a  new  church,  as  is 
more  strictly  the  name  of  many  of  those 
which"bear  the  title  of  reformed — but 
a  reformed  church,  the  old,  the  origi- 
nal church,  stripped  of  those  incrus- 
tations, and  freed  from  those  pollu- 
tions, which  had  fastened  upon  it  dur- 
ing a  long  night  of  ignorance.  Theirs 
was  the  work  of  renovating  an  ancient 
cathedral,  majestic  even  in  decay,  pre- 
senting the  traces  of  noble  architec- 
ture, though  in  ruins  on  this  side,  and 
choked  with  rubbish  on  that.  They  did 
not  attempt  to  batter  down  the  walls, 
and  plougli.  up  the  foundations,  of  the 
venerable  edifice,  and  then  to  erect  on 
the  site  a  wholly  modern  structure. 
They  were  better  taught,  and  better  di- 
rected. They  removed,  with  the  great- 
est carefulness  and  diligence,  the  coat- 
ing from  the  beautiful  pillars  which 
men  had  daubed  with  "  untempered 
mortar;"  and  they  swept  away  but- 
tresses which  did  but  disfigure,  with- 
out sustaining  the  building ;  and,  above 
all,  they  opened  the  windows  which  ig- 
norance, or  superstition,  had  blocked 
up;  and  then  the  rich  light  of  heaven 
came  streaming  down  the  aisles,  and 
men  flocked  to  its  courts  to  worship 
the  one  God  through  the  one  Mediator, 
Christ.  And  therefore,  as  we  would 
again  tell  you,  were  they  the  reform- 
ers, and  nothing  more  than  the  reform- 
ers of  the  church.  You  sometimes  hear 
or  read  of  the  fathers  of  the  English 
church,  the  name  being  given  to  the 


PROTESTANTISM    AND    POPEKY. 


3B 


reformers.  But  the  name  is  most  false- 
ly applied.  The  fathers  of  the  English 
church  are  the  apostles  and  those  apos- 
tolic men,  who  lived  in  the  early  days 
of  Christianity,  and  handed  down  to  us 
what  was  held  as  truth,  when  there 
were  the  best  means  of  ascertaining 
and  defining  it.  We  acknowledge  no 
modern  fathers :  it  were  to  acknow- 
ledge a  modern  birth.  We  claim  to  be 
the  ancient  church:  we  fasten  on  the 
Roman  catholic  the  being  the  modern — 
the  modern,  not  in  constitution,  for 
therein  we  have  both  the  same  date, 
and  that  date  apostolic ;  but  the  mo- 
dern in  a  thousand  innovations  on 
genuine  Christianity — Christianity  as 
preached  by  Christ  and  St.  Paul — Chris- 
tianity as  exhibited  by  the  writers  of 
the  first  four  centuries  of  the  church. 

But  it  is  here  that  we  reach  the  gist 
of  the  question :  we  must  set  before 
you  certain  doctrines  held  by  the  Ro- 
man church,  and  denounced  by  the  re- 
formed ;  or  state  particulars  in  which 
the  two  ditfer  with  regard  to  the  same 
article  of  faith. 

We  have  referred  already  to  the  pre- 
tended infallibility  of  the  Roman  church, 
and  shall  only  farther  say,  that  Rome 
must  give  up  this  doctrine  ere  there 
can  be  peace  :  it  has  no  foundation  in 
Scripture,  for  St.  Paul  addresses  the 
Roman  church  as  liable  to  err  :  it  is 
contradicted  by  facts,  for  different 
popes  and  councils  have  decreed  op- 
posite things;  and  it  is  dangerous  and 
deadly,  as  giving  the  divine  sanction 
to  every  error  which  an  ignorant  mor- 
tal may  adopt,  and  to  every  practice 
which  a  vicious  may  enjoin.  We  pro- 
test, next,  against  the  Romish  doctrine 
of  justification,  declaring  it  unscriptu- 
ralj.and  therefore  fatal  to  the  soul. 
This  doctrine  is,  that  our  own  inherent 
justice  is  the  formal  cause  of  our  justi- 
fication :  the  Council  of  Trent  having 
pronounced  any  one  accursed,  who 
should  say  that  men  are  justified,  ei- 
ther by  the  imputation  of  Christ's  righ- 
teousness alone,  or  only  by  the  remis- 
sion of  sins  ;  or  who  should  maintain 
that  the  grace  by  which  we  are  justi- 
fied is  the  favor  of  God  alone.  And  as 
to  merit,  which  is  closely  associated 
herewith,  a  famous  cardinal  has  deliv- 
ered this  noted  decision,  "A  just  man 
hath,  by  a  double  title,  right  to  the 
same  glory  ;  one  by  the  merits  of  Christ 


imparted  to  him  by  grace,  another  by 
his  own  merits."*  Can  we,  without 
treachery  to  the  souls  of  men,  be  at 
peace  with  Rome,  whilst  she  inculcates 
tenets  directly  at  variance  with  those 
which  are  the  essence  of  Christianity, 
that  we  are  ^'justified  freely  by  God's 
grace,"  "through  faith,"  and  "not  of 
works  ;"  and  that  "  the  gift  of  God  is 
eternal  life,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lordl"  We  protest  further  against  the 
Romish  doctrine  of  the  insufficiency  of 
what  we  receive  as  the  canonical  Scrip- 
tures, of  the  authority  of  the  Apocry- 
pha and  of  traditions.  The  papists 
hold,  according  to  the  decrees  of  the 
same  Council  of  Trent,  that  there  is 
not  expressly  contained  in  Scripture 
all  necessary  doctrine,  either  concern- 
ing faith  or  manners  :  we  reject  the 
tenet  as  blasphemous,  seeing  that  a 
curse  is  pronounced  by  the  Bible  on 
all  who  shall  add  to  it,  or  take  from  it  ; 
and  thus  God's  Spirit  hath  decided  the 
sufficiency  of  Scripture.  The  papists 
receive  the  apocryphal  books  as  ca- 
nonical :  the  voice  of  antiquity  is  a- 
gainst  them,  the  internal  evidence  is 
against  them,  and  we  protest  against 
the  reception,  because  we  know  that 
the  apocryphal  books  may  be  brought 
in  support  of  doctrines  which  we  re- 
pudiate as  false,  and  of  practices  which 
we  deprecate  as  impious.  And  as  to 
traditions,  of  which  the  Council  of 
Trent  decreed,  that  they  must  be  re- 
ceived with  no  less  piety  and  vene- 
ration than  the  Scriptures,  they  may 
be  mightily  convenient  for  papists,  be- 
cause a  precept  can  be  produced  with 
the  authority  of  a  revelation,  whenev- 
er a  falsehood  is  to  be  made  current 
for  truth  :  but  we  utterly  reject  these 
unwritten  traditions,  because,  at  best, 
they  are  impeachments  of  the  sufficien- 
cy of  Scripture,  and  because  they  afford 
every  facility  for  the  establishment  of 
error  under  the  seeming  sanction  of 
God. 

But  this  is  not  all :  our  protest  yet 
extends  itself  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left.  The  papists  maintain,  that,  in 
the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
there  is  a  conversion  of  the  whole  sub- 
stance of  the  bread  into  Christ's  body, 
and  of  the  whole  substance  of  the  wine 
into  his  blood.    This  is  their  doctrine 

*  Bellarniine,  quoted  by  Bishop  Hal!. 


320 


PROTESTANTISM    AND    POPERY, 


of  transubstantiation.  Against  this  doc- 
trine we  protest,  not  only  because  there 
is  a  contradiction  to  our  senses,  for 
taste,  and  touch,  and  sight  assure  us 
that  the  consecrated  bread  is  still 
bread,  and  the  consecrated  wine  still 
wine  ;  but  because  it  overthrows  the 
truth  of  Christ's  humanity:  it  makes 
his  body  infinite  and  omnipresent :  it 
makes  that  body  to  be  on  the  earth, 
when  Scripture  declares  it  to  be  in 
heaven ;  and  if  it  thus  interfere  with 
the  fact  of  Christ's  humanity,  affect- 
ing vitally  the  truth  of  his  being  a  man 
like  ourselves,  how  can  we  admit  it 
without  destroying  the  Gospell  The 
papists  further  hold  in  regard  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  that  therein  is  offered 
to  God  a  true,  proper,  and  propitiato- 
ry sacrifice  for  the  living  and  dead,  so 
that  the  priests,  daily  ministering,  make 
a  fresh  oblation  of  the  Son  of  God  to 
the  Father.  This  is  what  is  styled  the 
sacrifice  of  the  mass  :  we  reject  it  as 
unscriptural,  for  we  know  that  "  Christ 
was  once  offered  to  bear  the  sins  of 
many  ;"  we  reject  it  as  impious,  be- 
cause Christ,  as  the  great  High  Priest, 
offered  up  himself,  and  no  inferior 
priest  might  present  so  illustrious  a 
victim. 

Neither  is  it  in  this  respect  only  that 
the  papists  interfere  with  the  mediato- 
rial office  of  Christ.  What  is  to  be  said 
of  the  invocation  of  angels  and  saints  1 
The  Komish  Church  declares,  accord- 
ing to  the  creed  of  Pius  IV.  that  "  the 
saints  who  reign  with  Christ  are  to  be 
venerated  and  invoked,  and  that  they 
offer  prayers  to  God  for  us."  Nay,  has 
not  the  present  pope,  in  a  letter  circu- 
lated amongst  the  clergy  of  his  church, 
styled  the  Virgin  Mary  his  greatest 
confidence,  even  the  whole  foundation 
of  his  hope  '?  And  shall  we  not  protest 
against  a  church,  and  that,  too,  vehe- 
mently and  incessantlj'^,  shall  we  make 
peace  with  a  church  which  thus,  dis- 
guise and  varnish  and  extenuate  as  you 
will,  exalts  sinful  mortals  to  a  partici- 
pation in  the  great  office  of  Jesus,  in- 
troduces virtually  a  long  train  of  inter- 
cessors, and  thus  demolishes  the  migh- 
ty and  life-giving  truths,  that  there  is 
"  one  mediator  between  God  and  man," 
and  that,  "if  any  man  sin,  we  have  an 
advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ 
the  righteous  1"  We  must  go  further. 
We  must  not  hesitate  to   charge    the 


Roman  church  with  idolatry;  though 
many,  who  have  often  sworn  solemnly 
to  their  belief  that  its  practices  were 
idolatrous,  now  hold  such  opinion  to 
be  the  offspring  of  nothing  but  igno- 
rance and  illiberality.  The  Council  of 
Trent  decreed,  that  the  images  and  re- 
lics of  Christ  and  the  saints  are  to  be 
duly  honored,  venerated,  or  worship- 
ped :  and  no  one  who  has  visited  Ro- 
man catholic  countries  can  be  ignorant 
how  faithfully  the  decree  is  obeyed. 
W^e  call  this  idolatry.  0  no,  is  the  re- 
tort :  the  worship  is  not  rendered  to 
the  image,  but  only  to  the  being  whom 
the  image  represents.  Be  it  so  :  this 
is  nevertheless  idolatry.  The  Israel- 
ites when  they  bowed  before  the  gol- 
den calf,  professedly  designed  to  wor- 
ship the  true  God,  not  the  image  ;  but 
they  were  slain  with  a  great  slaughter, 
as  impious  idolaters.  Besides,  this  is 
mere  subterfuge  :  the  image  itself  is 
worshipped.  Else,  why  has  one  image 
a  greater  sanctity  than  another  1  Why 
are  pilgrimages  to  be  made  to  our  La- 
dy's chapel  at  Loretto,  rather  than  to 
any  other  chapel  of  our  Lady,  except 
that  the  Virgin's  image  in  the  one  is 
more  precious  and  powerful  than  that 
in  the  other  ?  and  if  it  be  thus  thought 
that  there  is  a  virtue  resident  in  the 
image,  of  what  use  is  it  to  say  that  the 
image  is  reckoned  nothing,  and  re- 
ceives no  honor'?  The  second  com- 
mandment is  broken,  distinctly  and  fla- 
grantly broken,  by  the  Roman  catho- 
lics :  and  as  worshippers  of  the  one 
true  God,  who  has  declared  himself 
"a  jealous  God,"  we  protest  against  a 
church  which  enjoins  that  incense  be 
burnt,  and  prayers  made,  before  ima- 
ges ;  and  we  demand  of  her  that  she 
sweep  from  her  temples  the  "  silver 
and  gold,  the  work  of  men's  hands," 
ere  there  can  be  place  for  our  obeying 
the  precept  of  St.  Paul,  "If  it  be  pos- 
sible, live  peaceably  with  all  men." 

And  what  shall  we  say  morel  for 
the  time  would  fail  us  to  tell  of  multi- 
plied sacraments;  of  the  cup  denied  to 
the  laity,  though  Christ  said  to  his  dis- 
ciples, "drink  ye  all  of  it;"  of  indul- 
gences, impiously  imagined  deceits, 
whereby  men  may  be  delivered  from 
purgatory,  a  place  which  exists  only 
in  their  own  fancies  and  creeds  ;  of  the 
distinctions  between  venial  sins  and 
mortal,  fine  wire-drawn  subtilties,  con- 


PROTESTANTiSM    AND    POPERF. 


321 


trary  to  the  scriptural  definitions  of 
sin,  and  calculated  to  lull  men's  con- 
sciences to  sleep  in  the  midst  of  their 
crimes  ;  of  penances  which  are  merito- 
rious, of  relics  which  are  miraculous; 
of  the  shutting  up  the  Bible  from  the 
common  people  ;  of  prayers  in  an  un- 
known tongue  ;  of  fastings  which  have 
no  authority  in  revelation,  and  of  pro- 
hibitions which  necessarily  lead  to  li- 
centiousness. We  will  not  say  that 
there  is  the  same  degree  of  error  in 
each  of  the  particulars  thus  rapidly 
enumerated  ;  nor  that  the  error,  where- 
soever it  exists,  is  equally  fundamental 
and  fatal.  But  we  can  confidently  af- 
firm that  there  is  cause,  in  each  case, 
for  the  protest  of  every  lover  of  pure 
Christianity ;  that  in  none  can  the  er- 
ror be  deemed  harmless ;  yea,  that  in 
none  can  it  be  shown  other  than  full 
of  peril  to  the  soul.  And  whatever 
may  be  your  opinion  on  one  or  another 
point  of  difference  between  the  church- 
"es,  we  may  safely  refer  it  to  the  deci- 
sion of  every  upholder  of  scriptural 
truth,  whether  the  catalogue  which 
Ave  have  given  of  Roman  Catholic  er- 
rors and  corruptions,  does  not  justify 
the  reformers  in  having  commenced, 
and  ourselves  in  continuing,  separation 
from  the  disciples  of  popery  1  We  have 
shown  you  doctrines  completely  coun- 
ter to  that  of  justification  by  faith,  as- 
cribing a  strength  to  man's  powers,  and 
a  worth  to  his  actions,  which  would 
almost  prove  him  competent  to  the 
saving  himself.  We  have  brought  be- 
fore you  tenets  irreconcilable  with 
the  truth  of  the  Redeemer's  complex 
person,  which  assail  his  office  as  Me- 
diator, and  strip  his  propitiation  of 
power  by  representing  it  as  daily  re- 
peated. We  have  told  you  of  violence 
done  to  the  sanctity  of  revelation  by 
the  honor  given  to  human  fable  and 
tradition,  of  idolatrous  worship,  of  ex- 
tenuated sin,  and  of  authority,  impi- 
ously assumed,  to  remit  the  punish- 
ments and  dispense  the  rewards  of 
futurity.  And  this  is  popery.  This  is 
popery,  not  as  libelled,  and  maligned, 
and  traduced  by  sworn  foes,  but  as  de- 
scribed, and  defined,  in  its  own  autho- 
rised and  unrcscinded  documents.  This 
is  popery,  the  religion  against  which, 
if  you  will  believe  modern  liberalism, 
it  is  little  better  than  bigotry  to  object, 
and   which   approaches   so   nearly   to 


protestantism,  that  a  little  mutual  ac- 
commodation might  remove  every  dif- 
ference, 

Yes,  it  may  approach  nearly  to  pro- 
testantism, but  only  to  protestantism 
as  it  exists  in  days  of  indifference  and 
heartlessness,  and  for  which  the  far 
truer  name  were  infidelity.  Not  the 
protestantism  of  Luther,  and  Cranmen, 
and  Ridley,  and  Hooper,  and  all  the 
noble  army  of  martyrs.  Not  the  pro- 
testantism of  the  worthies  of  the  pur- 
est days  of  Christianity.  Not  the  pro- 
testantism of  the  holy  fathers  of  the 
church.  Not  the  protestantism,  we  are 
bold  to  use  the  expression,  of  Christ 
and  his  apostles.  Yes,  the  protestant- 
ism for  which  we  contend,  and  which 
we  declare  as  incapable  of  alliance  with 
popery  as  the  east  of  junction  with  the 
west,  is  the  protestantism  of  Christ  and 
his  apostles.  The  reformed  religion  is 
no  novelty :  if  it  can  be  proved  a  day 
younger  than  Christ  and  his  apostles, 
away  with  it  from  the  earth  as  a  per- 
nicious delusion.  It  was  no  invention 
of  Luther  and  his  fellow-laborers.  The 
Roman  catholics  indeed  would  taunt 
us  with  the  recent  origin  of  our  faith, 
as  though  it  had  sprung  up  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  whilst  their  own  is  hal- 
lowed by  all  the  suflVages  of  antiquity. 
There  was  never  a  more  insolent  taunt, 
and  never  a  more  unwarranted  boast. 
Ours,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  is 
the  old  religion,  theirs  is  the  new. 
Ours  is,  at  least,  as  old  as  the  Bible  ; 
for  it  has  not  a  single  tenet  which  we 
do  not  prove  from  the  Bible.  But  theirs 
must  be  younger  than  the  Bible ;  for 
where  in  the  Bible  is  the  Bible  said 
to  be  insufficient,  and  where  is  the 
pope  declared  supreme  and  infallible, 
and  where  is  sin  divided  into  mortal 
and  venial,  and  where  are  the  clergy 
forbidden  to  marry,  and  where  are  im- 
ages directed  to  be  worshipped,  and 
where  is  the  church  intrusted  with 
the  granting  indulgences'?  There  is 
not  a  solitary  article  of  protestantism, 
in  support  of  which  we  are  not  ready 
to  appeal  to  the  canonical  Scriptures, 
and  the  writings  of  the  early  fathers; 
there  are  a  hundred  of  popery,  v.'hich 
papists  themselves  are  too  wise  to  rest 
on  such  an  appeal.  They  may  ask  us, 
where  was  your  religion  before  Luther  1 
and  our  reply  is,  in  the  word  of  the  liv- 
ing God,  in  the  creeds  of  apostles  and 
41 


322 


TKOTESTANTISM    AND  TOrERT. 


apostolical  men,  and  in  the  practice  of 
those  witnesses,  who,  in  every  age,  re- 
fused to  participate  in  the  abominations 
of  Kome.  But  we  ask  them,  where  was 
your  religion  before  such  or  sueh  an  as- 
piring pontiff  put  forth  such  or  such  a 
doctrine  or  claim  1  We  challenge  the 
documents.  We  fix  the  doctrine  of  the 
papal  supremacy  to  the  sixth  century — 
let  them  prove  it  older  if  they  can ;  of 
seven  sacraments  to  the  twelfth  centu- 
ry— let  them  prove  it  older  if  they  can ; 
of  transubstantiation  to  the  thirteenth 
century — let  them  prove  it  older  if  they 
can.  And  yet  protestantism  is  the  spu- 
rious manufacture  of  a  late  date,  whilst 
popery  is  the  venerable  transmission 
iroui  the  first  year  of  the  christian  era. 
Yes,  all  that  is  true  in  popery  has  been 
transmitted  from  the  earliest  days  of 
Christianity  :  but  all  that  is  true  in  po- 
pery makes  up  protestantism.  Popery 
is  protestantism  mutilated,  disguised, 
deformed,  and  overlaid  with  corrupt 
additions  ;  protestantism  is  popery  re- 
stored to  its  first  purity,  cleansed  from 
false  glosses,  and  freed  from  the  rub- 
bish accumulated  on  it  by  ages  of  su- 
perstition. 

We  rectir  then  to  our  former  asser- 
tion, and  declare  that  the  protestantism 
for  which  we  contend  as  irreconcil- 
able with  popery,  is  nothing  else  than 
the  protestantism  of  Christ  and  his 
apostles.  And  the  protestantism  of 
Christ  and  his  apostles  can  have  no 
peace  with  popery.  We  would,  if  pos- 
sible, "  live  peaceably  with  ail  men," 
•  and,  therefore,  with  the  Roman  church. 
But  it  is  not  possible.  We  cannot  sur- 
render justification  by  faith.  We  can- 
not multiply  mediators.  We  cannot 
bow  down  before  images.  We  cannot 
believe  bread  to  be  flesh,  and  wine  to 
be  blood.  We  cannot  ascribe  to  a  falli- 
ble man  the  unerring  wisdom  of  the 
one  living"  God.  And,  therefore,  it  is 
not  possible.  No  ;  if  popery  regain  its 
lost  power,  let  it  not  be  through  our 
giving  it  the  right  hand  of  fellowship. 
Let  it  wrest  back  ecclesiastical  endow- 
ments ;  let  it  rekindle  the  fires  of  per- 
secution; let  it  be  legislated  into  might 
by  time-serving  concessions;  but  never 
let  us  be  silent,  as  though  we  thought 
popery  to  be  truth  ;  never  supine,  as 
though  we  counted  its  errors  unim- 
jjortant. 

A  righteous  ancestry  felt  the  impossi- 


bility of  peace  with  Rome  ;  and  though 
they  could  wage  the  war  only  at  the 
risk  of  substance  and  life,  yet  did  they 
manfully  throw  themselves  into  the 
struggle ;  for  far  dearer  to  them  was 
"  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  than  wealth, 
or  honor,  or  the  quiet  comforts  of 
home  ;  and  seeing  that  this  truth  was 
disguised  or  denied,  they  could  not 
rest  till  it  was  fully  exhibited,  and  bold- 
ly proclaimed.  Their  ashes  are  yet  in 
our  land ;  our  cities  and  villages  are 
haunted  by  their  memories;  but  shall 
it  be  said  that  their  spirit  hath  departed, 
and  that  we  value  not  the  privileges 
purchased  for  us  by  their  blood  \  Chil- 
dren as  we  are  of  men  who  discovered, 
ajnd  acted  on  the  discovery,  that  to  re- 
main at  peace  with  Rome  v.ere  to  offer 
insult  to  God,  we  will  not  prove  our 
degeneracy  by  lapsing  into  an  alliance 
which  they  abhorred  as  sacrilegious. 
The  echo  of  their  voices — trumpet- 
tongued  as  they  were,  so  that,  at  the 
piercing  call,  Europe  shook  as  with  an 
earthquake — still  lingers  on  our  moun- 
tains and  in  our  valleys  ;  still  is  it  sylla- 
bling to  us  that  popery  is  the  predicted 
apostacy  of  the  latter  times;  still  is  it 
discoursing  of  Rome  as  the  mystic 
Babylon  of  the  Apocalypse,  and  reiter- 
ating the  summons,  "  Come  out  of  her, 
my  people,  that  ye  be  not  partakers  of 
her  sins,  and  that  ye  receive  not  of  her 
plagues."  Thus  it  is  reminding  us — 
though,  if  there  were  no  such  echo, 
there  is  speech  enough  in  reason, 
speech  enough  in  revelation — that,  in 
separating  from  the  Romish  church, 
v/e  are  not  forgetful  of  the  duty  of  en- 
deavoring to  keep  "the  unity  of  Spirit 
in  the  bond  of  peace  ;"  but  that,  in  re- 
fusing communion  with  that  church, 
and  requiring  her  to  renounce  her  abo- 
minations ere  we  will  keep  back  our 
protest,  we  obey  to  the  utmost  the  pre- 
cept of  the  apostle,  "If  it  be  possible, 
as  much  as  lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably 
with  all  nien." 

Now  we  have  been  the  more  ready 
to  embrace  an  opportunity  of  bringing 
protestantism  before  you  in  contrast 
with  popery,  because  we  believe  that 
the  Roman  catholic  religion  has  been 
rapidly  gaining  ground  in  this  country. 
There  must  be  great  inattention  to 
what  is  passing  on  all  sides,  if  any  of 
you  be  unaware  that  popery  is  on  the 
increase.    It  is  easy  to  meet  statements 


PROTESTANTISM    AND    POPERY. 


SM 


323 


in  regard  to  the  growing  number  of 
papal  chapels  and  colleges,  by  saying 
that  the  growth  is  but  proportioned  to 
the  growth  of  population,  and  therefore 
does  not  indicate  any  influx  of  prose- 
lytes. Of  course,  a  reply  such  as  this 
is  of  no  worth,  except  as  borne  out  by 
facts  ;  and  we  thoroughly  believe,  that, 
the  more  carefully  you  examine,  the 
more  you  will  find  that  there  is  a 
greater  growth  of  Popery  than  you  had 
right  to  expect  from  the  growth  of  po- 
pulation. When  you  have  made  due 
allowance  for  the  increased  numbers 
in  Roman  catholic  families,  there  will 
be  a  large  surplus,  only  to  be  referred 
to  a  successful  system  of  proselytism. 
It  should  suffice  to  convince  you  of 
this,  to  observe,  as  you  easily  may, 
that  Roman  catholic  chapels  are  rising 
in  neighborhoods  where  there  is  no 
Roman  catholic  population ;  and  that, 
in  cases  where  the  chapel  has  been 
reared,  in  hopes  that  a  congregation 
would  be  formed,  the  hopes  have  not 
been  altogether  falsified  by  the  event. 
What  are  we  to  say  to  this^  Men 
would  indeed  persuade  you  that  the 
enlarged  intelligence  of  the  times,  the 
diflusion  of  knowledge,  and  the  in- 
crease of  liberality,  are  an  ample  se- 
curity against  the  revival,  to  any  great 
extent,  of  a  system  so  absurd  and  re- 
pulsive as  popery.  But  they  quite  for- 
get, when  they  hastily  pronounce  that 
popery  has  no  likelihood  of  being  re- 
vived in  an  enlightened  age,  that  it  is 
emphatically  the  religion  of  human  na- 
ture ;  and  that  he,  who  can  persuade 
himself  of  its  truth,  passes  into  a  posi- 
tion the  most  coveted  by  the  mass  of 
our  race,  that  in  which  sin  may  be  com- 
mitted, with  a  thorough  security  that 
its  consequences  may  be  averted.  We 
find  no  guarantee  against  the  reinstate- 
ment of  popery,  in  the  confessed  facts 
of  a  vast  outstretch,  of  mind,  and  of  a 
general  developement  of  the  thinking 
faculties  of  our  people.  It  is  an  axiom 
with  us,  that  people  must  have  some 
kind  of  religion;  they  cannot  so  se- 
pulchre their  immortality,  that  it  will 
never  struggle  up,  and  compel  them  to 
think  of  provision  for  the  future.  And 
when  a  population  shall  have  grown 
vain  of  its  intelligence,  and  proud  of 
its  knowledge  ;  when,  by  applying  uni- 
versally the  machinery  of  a  mere  men- 
tal education,  and  pervading  a  country 


with  literature  rather  than  with  Scrip- 
ture, you  shall  have  brought  men  into 
the  condition,  0  too  possible,  of  those 
who  think  it  beneath  them  to  inquire 
after  God  ;  then,  do  we  believe,  the 
scene  will  be  clear  for  the  machina- 
tions of  such  a  system  as  the  papacy. 
The  inflated  and  self-sufficient  genera- 
tion will  feel  the  need  of  some  specific 
for  quieting  conscience.  But  they  will 
prefer  the  least  spiritual,  and  the  least 
humiliating.  They  will  lean  to  that, 
which,  if  it  insult  the  understanding, 
bribes  the  lusts,  and  buys  reason  into 
silence  by  the  immunities  which  it  pro- 
mises. It  is  not  their  wisdom  which 
will  make  them  loathe  popery.  Too 
wise  to  seek  God  prayerfully  and  hum- 
bly in  the  Bible,  they  will  be  as  open 
to  the  delusion  which  can  believe  a 
lie,  as  the  ignorant  to  the  imposition 
which  palms  off  falsehood  for  truth. 
They  will  not  want  God,  but  a  method 
of  forgetting  him,  which  shall  pass  at 
the  same  time  for  a  method  of  remem- 
bering him.  This  is  a  definition  of 
popery,  that  masterpiece  of  Satan,  con- 
structed for  two  mighty  divisions  of 
humankind,  the  men  who  would  be 
saved  by  their  merits,  and  the  men 
who  would  be  saved  in  their  sins. 
Hence,  if  a  day  of  great  intellectual 
darkness  be  favorable  for  popery,  so 
may  be  a  day  of  great  intellectual 
light.  We  may  as  well  fall  into  the 
pit  with  our  eyes  dazzled,  as  with  our 
eyes  blindfolded  :  ignorance  is  no  bet- 
ter element  for  a  false  religion  than 
knowledge,  when  it  has  generated  con- 
ceit of  our  own  powers  ;  and  intellect, 
which  is  a  defender,  when  duly  ho- 
nored and  employed,  becomes  a  be- 
trayer, when  idolized  as  omnipotent. 
You  are  told  moreover,  and  this  is 
one  of  the  most  specious  of  the  deceits 
through  wh  c'l  popery  carries  on  its 
work,  that  the  Roman  catholic  religion 
is  not  what  it  was  ;  that  it  took  its 
complexion  from  the  times ;  and  that 
tenets,' against  which  protestants  loud- 
ly exclaim,  and  principles  which  they 
indignantly  execrate,  were  held  only  in 
days  of  ignorance  and  barbarism,  and 
have  long  since  fled  before  the  advance 
of  civilization.  And  very  unfair  and  un- 
generous, we  are  told,  it  is,  to  rake  up 
the  absurdities  and  cruelties  of  a  rude 
and  uninformed  age,  and  to  charge 
them  on  the  creed  of  men  in  our  own 


324^ 


PROTESTANTISM    AND    POPEUY. 


sreneration,  who  detest  them  as  cor- 
dially as  ourselves.  Be  it  so  :  we  are  at 
all  events  dealing  with  an  infallible 
church:  and  unless  the  claim  to  infal- 
libility be  amongst  the  things  given  up, 
we  are  at  a  loss  to  know  how  this 
church  can  so  greatly  have  changed; 
how,  since  she  never  goes  wrong,  she 
can  renounce  what  she  believed,  and 
condemn  what  she  did.  And  the  Ro- 
man church  is  not  suicidal  enough  to 
give  up  her  claim  to  infallibility  :  but 
she  is  sagacious  enough  to  perceive 
that  men  are  willing  to  be  deceived, 
that  an  excess  of  false  charity  is  blind- 
ing them  to  facts,  and  that  there  is 
abroad  amongst  them  such  an  idolatry 
of  what  they  call  liberal,  that  they 
make  it  a  point  of  honor  to  believe 
good  of  all  evil,  and  perhaps  evil  of  all 
good.  Of  this  temper  of  the  times,  is 
the  Roman  church,  marvellously  wise 
in  her  generation,  adroitly  availing  her- 
self: and  so  well  has  she  plied  men 
with  the  specious  statement  that  she  is 
not  what  she  was,  that  they  are  rather 
covering  her  with  apologies  for  their 
inconsiderate  bigotry,  than  thinking  of 
measures  to  resist  her  advances.  But 
there  is  no  change  in  popery.  The  sys- 
tem is  the  same,  intrinsically,  inherent- 
ly the  same.  It  may  assume  different 
aspects  to  carry  different  purposes,  but 
this  is  itself  a  part  of  popery  :  there  is 
the  variable  appearance  of  the  chame- 
leon, and  the  invariable  venom  of  the 
serpent.  Thus  in  Ireland,  where  the 
theology  of  Dens  is  the  recognized 
text-book  of  the  Roman  catholic  clergy, 
they  will  tell  you,  when  there  is  any 
end  to  be  gained,  that  popery  is  an  im- 
proved, and  modified,  and  humanized 
thinof :  whereas,  all  the  while,  there  is 
not  a  monstrous  doctrine,  broached  in 
the  most  barbarous  of  past  times,  which 
this  very  textbook  does  not  uphold  as 
necessary  to  be  believed,  and  not  a  foul 
practice,  devised  in  the  midnight  of  the 
world,  which  it  does  not  enjoin  as  ne- 
cessary to  be  done.  Make  peace,  if  you 
will,  with  popery,  receive  it  into  your 
senate,  shrine  it  in  your  churches,  plant 
it  in  your  hearts;  but  be  ye  certain, 
certain  as  that  there  is  a  heaven  above 
you  and  a  God  over  you,  that  the  po- 
pery thus  honored  and  embraced,  is  the 
very  popery  that  was  degraded  and 
loathed  by  the  holiest  of  your  fathers. 


ness,  the  same  in  intolerance — which 
lorded  it  over  kings,  assumed  the  pre- 
rogatives of  Deity,  crushed  human  li- 
berty, and  slew  the  saints  of  God. 

0  that  England  may  be  convinced  of 
this,  before  taught  it  by  fatal  experi- 
ence.   It  may  not  yet  be  too  late.    She 
has  tampered  wiih   popery  :   in  many 
respects   she"  has    patronized    popery, 
giving  it,  by  her  compromises  and  con- 
cessions, a  vantage-ground  which    its 
best  wishers  could  hardly  have  dared 
to  expect;   but,  nevertheless,  it  may 
not  yet   be   too  late.    Let  protestants 
only  awaken  to  a  sense  of  the  worth  of 
their  privileges,  privileges  so  long  en- 
joyed that  they  are  practically  forgot- 
ten, and  this  land  may  remain,  what  for 
three  centuries  it  hath  been,  the  great 
witness  for  scriptural  truth,  the  great 
centre  of  scriptural  light.    There  is  al- 
ready a  struggle.    In  Ireland  especially, 
pope.ry  so  wrestles  with  protestantism 
that  there  is  cause  for  fear  that  false- 
hood will  gain  mastery.    And  we  call 
upon  you  to  view  the  struggle  in  its 
true  light.    It  is  not  to  be  regarded  as 
a  struggle  between  rival  churches,  each 
desiring  the  temporal  ascendency.    It 
is  not  a  contest  for  the  possession  of 
tithe,  for  right  to  the  mitre,  for  claim 
on  the  benefice.    It  is  a  contest  between 
the  Christianity  of  the  New  Testament, 
and  the  Christianity  of  human  tradition 
and  corrupt  fable — a  contest,  therefore, 
whose  issue  is  to  decide  whether  the 
pure  Gospel  shall  have  footing  in  Ireland. 
There   is,  there  will' be,  a  struggle; 
and  our  counsel  to  you  individually  is, 
that  you   examine  well   the  tenets  of 
protestantism,  and  possess  yourselves 
of  the  grounds  on  which  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  we  live  peaceably  with  Rome. 
If  you   belong  to  a  reformed  church, 
acquaint  yourselves  with  the  particu- 
lars in  which  the  reformation  consist- 
ed, that  you  may  be  able  to  give  rea- 
sons for    opposition   to    popery.    And 
when  convinced  that  they  are  not  un- 
important points  on  which  protestants 
differ  from  papists,  let  each,  in  his  sta- 
tion, oppose  the  march  of  popery,  op- 
pose it  by  argument,  by  counsel,  by  ex- 
hortation, by  prayer.  "  Watch  ye,  stand 
fast  in  the  faith,  quit  you  like  men,  be 
strong."    By  the  memory  of  martyrs, 
i  by  the  ashes  of  confessors,  by  the  dust 
of  a  thousand   saints,  we  conjure  you 
the  very  poperj' — the  same  in  haughti- 1  to  be  stanch  in  defence  of  your  religion. 


CHRISTIANITY   A    SWORD. 


325 


The  spirits  of  departed  worthies,  who 
witnessed  a  good  confession,  and  count- 
ed not  their  lives  dear,  so  that  truth 
might  be  upheld,  bend  down,  one  might 
think,  from  their  lofty  dwelling-place, 
and  mark  our  earnestness  in  defending 
the  faith  "  once  delivered  to  the  saints." 
O,  if  they  could  hear  our  voice,  should  it 
not  tell  them,  that  there  are  yet  many  in 
the  land,  emulous  of  their  zeal,  and  ea- 
ger to  tread  in  their  steps ;  ready,  if 
there  come  a  season  big  with  calamity, 
to  gird  themselves  for  the  defence  of 
protestantism  in  her  last  asylum,  and 
to  maintain  in  the  strength  of  the  living 
God,  that  system  which  they  wrought 
out  with  toil,  and  cemented  with  blood  1 
Yes,  illustrious  immortals  !  ye  died  not 
in  vain.  Mighty  group!  there  was  lit 
up  at  your  massacre  a  fire  in  those 
realms  which  is  yet  unextinguished  ; 
from  father  to  son  has  the  sacred  flame 
been  transmitted :  and  though,  in  the 
days  of  our  security,  that  flame  may 
have  burnt  with  diminished  lustre,  yet 


let  the  watchmen  sound  an  alarm,  and 
many  a  mountain  top  shall  be  red  with 
the  beacon's  blaze,  and  the  noble  vault 
of  your  resting-place  grow  illumined 
with  the  flash.  Repose  ye  in  your  deep 
tranquillity,  spirits  of  the  martyred 
dead !  We  know  something  of  the 
worth  of  a  pure  Gospel,  and  a  free  Bi- 
ble :  and  we  will  bind  ourselves  by  the 
name  of  Him  "who  liveth  and  abideth 
for  ever,"  to  strive  to  preserve  unim- 
paired the  privileges  bequeathed  at 
such  cost.  The  spirit  of  protestantism 
may  have  long  lain  dormant,  but  it  is 
not  extinct :  it  shall  be  found,  in  the 
hour  of  her  church's  peril,  that  there 
are  yet  bold  and  true-hearted  men  in 
England,  who  count  religion  dearer 
than  substance  ;  and  who,  having  re- 
ceived from  their  fathers  a  charter  of 
faith,  stained  with  the  blood  of  the  ho- 
liest and  the  best,  would  rather  dye  it 
afresh  in  the  tide  of  their  own  veins, 
than  send  it  down,  torn  and  mutilated, 
to  their  children. 


SERMON  y 


CHRISTIANITY    A    SWORD 


Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  send  peace  on  earth:   I  came  not  to  send  peace,  but  a  sword." 

Matthew,  10  :  34. 


When  Isaiah  predicted  the  birth  of 
Messiah,  "the  Prince  of  Peace"  was 
one  of  the  titles  which  he  gave  to  the 
coming  deliverer.  When  angels  an- 
nounced to  the  shepherds  that  Mes- 
siah was  born,  they  sang  as  their  cho- 
rus, "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  towards 
men."  At  first  sight,  there  scarcely 
seems  to  be  thorough  agreemenr  be- 
tween such  a  prediction,  or  such  an 
announcement,  and  the  declaration 
which  Christ  makes,  in  our  text,  with 
regard  to  his  mission.  Is  it  "  the  Prince 


of  Peace,"  the  being  whose  entrance 
upon  earth  was  hailed  by  the  heavenly 
hosts  as  insuring  peace  to  mankind, 
who  proclaims  that  he  had  not  come 
to  send  peace  j  but  that,  as  though  he 
were  the  warrior,  all  whose  battles  are 
"  with  confused  noise,  and  garments 
rolled  in  blood,"  he  had  come  to  send 
a  sword  1  Let  it  be  observed  at  once, 
though  your  own  minds  will  anticipate 
the  remark,  that  it  is  common  in  Scrip- 
ture to  represent  a  person  as  doing  that 
of  which  he  may  indeed  be  tlie  occa- 
sion, but  which  is  not  efTected  by  his 


326 


CHaiSTIANIT7    A    SWORD. 


own  will  or  agencj*^.  Sometimes,  in- 
deed, the  action  is  ascribed  to  an  indi- 
vidual who  has  not  even  been  its  occa- 
sion, whose  only  connection  with  the 
result  has  J3een  the  announcing  that  it 
should  surely  come  to  pass.  Thus  God 
says  to  Jeremiah,  "  See,  I  have  this  day 
set  thee  over  the  nations,  and  over 
the  kingdoms,  to  root  out,  and  to  pull 
down,  and  to  build,  and  to  plant."  Un- 
doubtedly the  prophet  had  no  part  in 
the  demolition  of  our  empire,  and  the 
aggrandizement  of  another.  He  was 
no  agent  in  effecting  the  revolutions 
Avhich  he  was  commissioned  to  predict. 
All  that  he  did  was  to  proclaim  a  com- 
ing destruction,  or  a  coming  exaltation  ; 
and  then  he  is  said  to  have  wrought 
what  he  merely  announced. 

You  are  moreover  aware  that  the 
Bible  often  ascribes  to  God's  author- 
ship, what  can  only  be  referred  to  his 
permission ;  so  that  the  Almighty  seems 
represented  as  interfering  to  cause  re- 
sults, which  we  are  bound  to  conclude 
that  he  simply  allows.  It  cannot,  there- 
fore, excite  surprise,  for  it  quite  con- 
sists with  the  ordinary  phraseology  of 
Scripture,  that  Christ  should  apparent- 
ly announce,  as  the  purpose  of  his  mis- 
sion, a  result  produced  onljr  by  human 
perverseness.  There  can  be  nothing 
more  easy  of  demonstration,  than  that 
the  Gospel  is  a  message  of  peace,  that 
Christianity  is  a  system  which,  cordial- 
ly received  and  fully  obeyed,  would  dif- 
fuse harmony  and  happiness  through 
all  the  world's  families.  And  if  it  once 
be  acknowledged  that  it  is  the  design 
and  tendency  of  the  religion  of  Jesus 
to  unite  in  close  brotherhood,  by  unit- 
ing in  the  fellowship  of  "  one  faith 
and  one  baptism,"  the  tribes  and  house- 
holds of  our  race,  there  is  an  end  of 
all  debate  on  the  fitness  of  appropriat- 
ing to  the  Savior  the  name  "  Prince  of 
Peace  ;"  and  we  must  search  elsewhere 
than  in  the  nature  of  the  christian  dis- 
pensation, for  reasons  why  the  sword, 
rather  than  the  olive-branch,  is  ascend- 
ant upon  earth. 

We  lay  it  down  then  as  a  position 
whose  justice  will  be  readily  admitted, 
that  our  text  announces  a  result,  and 
not  the  design,  of  the  introduction  of 
Christianity.  Our  Lord  declares  of 
himself,  that  he  came  not  to  send 
peace ;  but  we  are,  notwithstanding, 
assured  that  he  had  left  the  throne  of 


his  glory  in  order  to  reconcile  this 
creation  to  God,  and  restore  friendship 
between  man  and  his  Maker.  We  must 
conclude,  therefore,  that  he  is  not 
speaking  of  the  object  of  his  mission, 
but  only  of  the  operation  of  a  fatal  and 
perverting  power,  resident  in  the  crea- 
ture, by  which  the  greatest  blessing 
may  be  turned  into  a  curse.  Christiani- 
ty, in  its  own  nature  and  tendencies, 
may  be  emphatically  peace  :  but  Chris- 
tianity, as  clashing  with  corrupt  pas- 
sions, may  be  practically  a  sword, 
which,  wounding  and  devastating, 
brings  injury,  and  not  benefit,  to  thou- 
sands. Hence,  knowing  by  his  pre- 
science that  disastrous  consequences, 
chargeable  altogether  upon  man,  would 
follow  the  introduction  of  Christianity, 
our  Lord,  who  had  come  to  send  peace, 
might  declare  that  he  had  come  to 
send  a  sword — the  only  sense  in  which 
he  sent  the  sword,  being  that  of  pub- 
lishing doctrines  which  would  excite 
the  animosities  of  our  nature  against 
holiness  and  God. 

But  there  are  sundry  inquiries  sug- 
gested by  our  text,  besides  that  of  the 
sense  in  which  the  sending  of  the 
sword  can  be  referred  to  him  who 
came  to  send  peace.  We  have  intro- 
duced our  subject  with  the  foregoing 
remarks,  in  order  to  remove  misappre- 
hension as  to  the  true  cause  of  evils, 
which  all  must  both  observe  and  la- 
ment. We  shall  indeed  see  more  clear- 
ly in  the  sequel  whence  these  evils 
originate.  But  it  is  sufficient,  at  the 
outset  of  our  discourse,  to  have  shown 
summarily  the  unfairness  of  charging 
the  consequences  on  the  Author  of 
Christianity  ;  any  blessing,  whatever  its 
beauty  and  brightness,  may  be  abused 
by  the  recipient  :  but  assuredly,  Avhen 
turned  into  an  instrument  of  mischief, 
it  is  only  in  its  original  goodness  that 
it  can  be  ascribed  to  the  Creator,  and 
in  its  injuriousness  wholly  to  the  crea- 
ture. ThiiS  being  premised,  we  design, 
in  the  first  place,  to  consider  our  text 
as  a  prophecy;  examining  how  Christ's 
words  have  been  verified,  and  meeting 
such  objections  to  the  plan  of  God's 
dealings  as  the  subject  seems  likely  to 
suggest.  We  shall  then  endeavor,  in 
the  second  place,  to  point  out  specifi- 
cally the  causes  which  have  turned  into 
a  sword  that,  which,  in  its  own  nature, 
is  emphatically  peace. 


CHRISTIAr^ITY    A    SWOKD. 


oC7 


Now  you  must  all  be  familiar  with 
the  melantiholy  truth,  that,  from  its 
first  publication,  Christianity  has  been 
the  occasion  of  discord  and  blood- 
shed. We  might,  perhaps,  have  been 
prepared  to  expect,  that,  whilst  Chris- 
tianity strove  to  make  head  against  the 
world's  superstitions,  and  to  dethrone 
heathenism,  which  had  long  held  an 
imdispiited  sway,  the  passions  and  pow- 
ers of  interested  millions  would  be  ex- 
cited against  its  preachers.  It  was  quite 
natural,  that,  when  there  was  published 
a  religion  at  war  with  every  other  then 
dominant  and  approved,  fierce  efforts 
should  be  made  to  crush,  by  crushing 
its  advocates,  a  system  whose  esta- 
blishment must  be  the  downfall  of 
those  which  a  long  ancestry  had  be- 
queathed, and  which  every  lust  felt  in- 
terested in  upholding.  Seeing  that  the 
worst  passions  of  humanity  had  so 
much  at  stake,  it  might  fairly  have 
been  calculated  that  so  vast  a  revolu- 
tion as  that  of  the  Roman  empire  ex- 
changing paganism  for,  at  least,  nomi- 
nal Christianity,  would  not  be  effected 
without  great  private  dissatisfaction,  if 
not  political  disturbance.  Accordingly, 
as  we  all  know,  persecutions  of  the 
most  fearful  description  assailed  the 
infant  religion,  designing,  and  almost 
effecting,  its  extinction.  And  when  Sa- 
tan, battling  for  an  empire  which  it 
was  the  professed  object  of  Christianity 
to  wrench  away,  sent  forth  all  his  emis- 
saries, and  stirred  up  all  his  agents,  in 
order  that,  if  possible,  the  very  name  of 
the  crucified  might  be  banished  and 
lost,  there  was  exhibited  a  spectacle 
which  bore  out  to  the  letter  the  pre- 
diction of  our  text.  They  who  traced 
the  causes  of  massacres  which  devas- 
tated cities  and  provinces,  and  found 
that  the  christian  religion  had  occa- 
sioned such  outbreaks  of  violence, 
must  have  felt  that  Christ  had  spoken 
words  as  true  as  they  were  awful,  when 
declaring  that  he  had  come,  not  to  send 
peace,  but  a  sword,  on  the  earth. 

It  was,  however,  as  we  have  already 
stated,  fairly  to  have  been  expected, 
that,  ere  heathenism  could  be  nation- 
ally displaced,  and  Christianity  substi- 
tuted, there  would  be  such  public  con- 
vulsion as  would  bring  distress  and 
death  on  many  of  the  professors  of 
our  faith.  The  prophecy  becomes  not 
unlocked    for   in    its    fulfilment,  until 


Christianity  had  gained  ascendency, 
and  kingdoms  professed  themselves 
evangelized.  It  might  have  been  sup- 
posed— at  least  until  the  principles  of 
Christianity  had  been  narrowly  sifted — 
that,  when  the  religion  became  pro- 
fessedly that  of  all  the  members  of  a 
community,  the  sword  would  be  sheath- 
ed, and  peace  be  the  instant  produce 
of  sameness  of  faith.  But  alas,  the 
i  persecutions  by  which  paganism  strove 
I  to  annihilate  christiai>ity,  are  more 
than  rivalled  in  fierceness  by  those  of 
which  christians  have  been,  at  once, 
the  authors  and  objects.  The  darkest 
page  in  the  history  of  mankind  is  per- 
haps that  on  which  are  registered  the 
crimes  that  have  sprung  from  the  reli- 
gious differences  of  Christendom.  It 
were  a  sickening  detail,  to  count  up  the 
miseries  which  may  be  traced  to  these 
differences.  Our  very  children  are  fa- 
miliar with  the  history  of  times  when 
Europe  shook  as  though  with  an  earth- 
quake, and  when  a  haughty  and  tyran- 
nical church  devoted  all  to  execration 
and  death  who  dared  to  think  for  them- 
selves, or  to  take  the  Bible  as  their 
standard  of  faith.  Our  own  land  be- 
came a  battle-plain,  on  which  was  car- 
ried on  the  struggle  for  religious  free- 
dom ;  heresy,  as  the  bold  confession  of 
truth  was  insolently  termed,  marked 
out  thousands  of  our  forefathers  for 
the  stake  or  the  scaffold.  In  this  did 
Christianity  differ  broadly  from  those 
false  systems  of  theology  which  had 
been  set  up  in  the  long  night  of  hea- 
thenism ;  these  systems  were  tolerant 
of  each  other,  because,*  whatever  their 
minor  difierences,  they  had  the  same 
mighty  errors  in  common  :  but  popery 
opposed  itself  to  protestantism  as  ve- 
hemently as  paganism  had  done  to 
Christianity  ;  for,  though  both  confess- 
ed Christ  as  a  Mediator,  the  agreement 
of  the  two  systems  was  as  nothing  to 
their  separation  on  grand  and  funda- 
mental tenets. 

It  is,  then,  but  too  true,  that  Christi- 
anity has  been  a  sword  to  Christendom 
itself.  The  prophecy  of  our  text  has 
registered  its  fulfilment  in  the  blood  of 
the  multitudes  who,  at  various  times, 
have  been  immolated  on  the  altars  of 
bigotry  and  ignorance.  And  if  one  of 
that  angelic  host  which  thronged  the 
firmament  of  Bethlehem,  and  chanted 
of  "  peace  on  earth,  good  will  towards 


328 


CHRISTIANITV    A    SWOKD. 


men,"  had  taken  the  survey  of  Chris- 
tendom, when  persecution  was  at  its 
height,  and  the  Romish  hierarchy, 
backed  by  the  kings  and  great  ones 
of  the  earth,  hunted  down  the  revivers 
of  apostolic  doctrine  and  discipline, 
we  may  doubt  whether  he  Avould  have 
poured  forth  the  same  rich  melody ; 
whether,  if  left  to  frame  his  message 
from  his  observation,  he  would  have 
announced  that  Christ  had  come  to 
send  peace,  in  the  face  of  so  tremen- 
dous a  demonstration,  that,  practically 
at  least,  he  had  come  to  send  a  sword. 
But  you  are  not  to  suppose  that  the 
prediction  of  our  text  is  accomplished 
in  no  days  but  those  of  intolerance  and 
persecution.  We  learn,  from  the  suc- 
ceeding verse,  that  Christ  specially  re- 
ferred to  the  family  disturbances  which 
his  religion  would  occasion.  "  For  I 
am  come,"  saith  he,  "  to  set  a  man  at 
variance  against  his  father,  and  the 
daughter  against]  her  mother,  and  the 
daughter-in-law  against  her  mother-in- 
law."  Here  we  have  a  prophecy,  whose 
fulfilment  is  not  limited  to  a  past  gene- 
ration, but  may  be  found  every  day  in 
our  own  domestic  histories.  We  live 
in  times — and  we  are  bound  to  thank 
God  for  the  privilege — when  the  pro- 
fession of  that  religion,  which  we  be- 
lieve to  be  true,  exposes  to  no  public 
danger,  when  the  sword  sleeps  in  its 
scabbard,  and  magistracy  interferes 
with  men's  worship  only  to  protect. 
But  we  cannot,  nevertheless,  be  igno- 
rant that  there  is  a  vast  amount  of  pri- 
vate persecution,  which,  as  laws  do  not 
prescribe,  neither  can  they  prevent; 
and  that  the  introduction  of  genuine 
piety  into  a  household  is  too  frequent- 
ly the  introduction  of  discord  and  un- 
liappiness.  It  may  have  fallen  within 
the  power  of  many  of  us  to  observe, 
how  the  peace  of  a  family  has  appa- 
rently been  broken  up  by  religion; 
how  its  members,  amongst  whom  there 
may  have  heretofore  circulated  all  the 
charms  of  a  thorough  unanimity,  have 
become  divided  and  estranged,  when 
certain  of  the  number  have  grown  care- 
ful of  the  soul.  The  making  a  profes- 
sion of  religion  is  often  considered 
tantamount  to  actual  rebellion ;  and 
then  the  announced  result  is  literally 
])rought  round — the  parents  being  set 
against  the  children,  and  the  children 
against   the    parents.     And    over   and 


above  the  disunion  thus  unhappily  in- 
troduced into  households,  it  were  idle 
to  deny  that  piety  is  still  exposed  to 
much  of  harassing  opposition,  so  that, 
although  persecution  no  longer  wears 
its  more  appalling  forms,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  make  bold  confession  of  Christ, 
without  thereby  incurring  obloquy  and 
wrong.  The  cooling  of  friendship,  the 
withdrawing  of  patronage,  the  misre- 
presentation of  motives,  the  endeavor 
to  thwart,  and  turn  into  ridicule — for 
all  these  must  the  man  be  prepared, 
who,  !in  our  own  day,  acts  out  his 
Christianity ;  and  he  who  should  think 
that  he  might  turn  from  worldliness  to 
piety  without  losing  caste,  and  aliena- 
ting many  who  have  loved  and  assisted 
him,  would  show  that  he  had  neither 
studied  the  character  of  our  religion, 
nor  gathered  the  testimony  of  experi- 
ence. And  whilst  it  can  thus  be  main- 
tained that  the  profession  of  that  god- 
liness w^hich  the  Gospel  enjoins,  serves 
to  break  the  closest  links  of  associa- 
tion, dividing  into  almost  irreconcila- 
ble parties  those  who  have  heretofore 
been  as  one  in  all  the  intercourses  of 
life,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  Christian- 
ity is  still  a  sword,  rather  than  a  peace- 
maker upon  earth  ;  and  that,  whatever 
it  may  effect  in  days  yet  to  come,  the 
breaches  which  it  now  occasions  in 
all  ranks  of  society,  attest  that  Christ 
spake  as  a  true  prophet  when  he  utter- 
ed our  text. 

There  is  no  necessity  that,  in  exhi- 
biting the  present  fulfilment  of  the  pre- 
diction, we  pass  from  Christendom  to 
the  still  broad  domain  of  heathenism. 
It  is  undoubtedly  a  result  of  every  mis- 
sionary enterprise  which  makes  head 
against  idolatry,  that  deep  and  fierce 
passions  are  roused  by  its  success.' 
Those  members  of  a  tribe  who  embrace 
Christianity,  become  objects  of  the  in- 
veterate hostility  of  those  who  adhere 
to  the  superstitions  of  their  fathers. 
Thus  is  there  acted  over  again,  in  the 
circumscribed  neighborhood  of  a  mis- 
sionary settlement,  something  of  that 
awful  drama  which  once  had  the  Ro- 
man worjd  for  its  theatre.  Heathenism 
still  struggles  to  put  down  Christianity, 
and  idol-worshippers  still  regard  as  a 
personal  enemy  every  convert  from 
idolatry.  Neither  can  we  see  reason 
to  question,  that,  before  any  wide  tract 
of  paganism  could  become  nominally 


CHRISTIAMTY    A    SWORD. 


329 


evangelized — we  mean,  of  course,  by 
the  machinery  of  the  present  dispen- 
sation— so  that  the  religion  of  Jesus 
should  take  the  place  of  a  degrading 
mythology,  the  worst  passions  of  man- 
kind would  be  banded  in  the  withstand- 
ing, and  that  too  by  perf.dy  and  vio- 
lence, the  exchange  of  falsehood  for 
truth,  of  systems  which  patronize  sen- 
suality for  one  which  enjoins  the  liv- 
ing soberly  and  righteouslj^  And  when 


tation  in  saying,  that,  in  spite  of  its 
having  been  as  a  sword  on  the  earth, 
Christianity  has  done  more  to  elevate 
the  character,  diminish  the  wretched- 
ness, and  augment  the  comforts  of  the 
nations  who  have  received  it  as  their 
faith,  than  was  ever  effected  by  the 
best  systems  of  heathenism,  whilst  left 
free  to  attempt  the  improvement  of  hu- 
man condition.  We  confess,  of  course, 
that  much  misery  has  been  occasioned 


Christianity  had  triumphed — triumph-  |  by  the  christian  religion;  and  that,  had 
ed,  be  it  observed,  against  an  opposi-  j  this  religion  gained  no  footing  in  a 
tion  resembling,  in  its  vehemence,  that  j  land,  there  are  many  forms  of  disquie- 
which  met  our  religion  on  its  first  pub-  {  tude  which  its  inhabitants  would  have 
lication— there  would  occur,  we  may  i  altogether  escaped.  Whilst  Christianity 
believe,  all  those  private,  but  distress-  !  acts  as  a  sword,  there  will  be  wounds, 
ing  persecutions,  which  we  trace  and  I  which,  had  there  been  no  such  wea- 
deplore  amongst  ourselves;  so  that,  in  I  pon,  would  never  have  been  inflicted. 


prevailing  on  a  heathen  empire  to  throw 
away  its  idols,  and  erect  the  cross  as 
its  standard,  you  would  have  prevailed 
on  it  to  receive  into   its  families  the 


But  the  fair  way  of  meeting  the  ques- 
tion is,  to  endeavor  to  strike  a  balance 
between  the  produced  wretchedness 
and  the  produced  happiness,  and  to  de- 


fruitful  source  of  dissensions,  and  to    termine  on  which  side  the  preponder 
take  as  its  portion  the  being  rent  into  j  ance  lies. 

parties,  whose  variances  must  inter-  j  And  we  could  not  wish  a  finer  topic 
rupt,  if  not  destroy,  all  the  harmony  of  I  of  christian  advocacy  than  that  of  the 
society.    Hence,  it  is  still  the  melan-    immense  blessing  which  the   religion 


choly  truth,  that,  in  sending  Christiani- 
ty, you  send  a  sword  into  a  land.  Until 
there  be  ushered  in  a  season  when  re- 
ligion shall  take  possession  of  every 
heart  in  an  extended  population,  there 
will  lie,  to  all  appearance,  an  impossi- 
bility against  the  nominally  evange- 
lizing that  population,  without,  at  the 
same  time,  dividing  and  disturbing  it; 
for  the  cross,  whilst  introduced  only 
into  the  creed  of  a  multitude,  will  ex 


of  Jesus  has  proved  to  mankind,  if 
viewed  simply  in  their  temporal  capa- 
city. We  are  ready  to  keep  futurity 
out  of  sight,  with  all  its  august  and  ter- 
rible mysteries.  We  will  not  meet  the 
arraigner  of  Christianity  on  groundfrom 
which  he  must  instantly  be  driven,  that 
of  the  revelation  of  immortality,  which 
can  be  found  only  on  the  pages  of 
Scripture.  We  will  confine  ourselves 
to  the  present  narrow  scene,  and  deal 


cite  their  enmity  against  the  few  who  j  with  man  as  though  death  were  to  ter 
give  their  affections  to  Him  who  died  j  minate  his  being.    And  we  do  assert — 
on  it  as  a  sacrifice.  I  and  proofs  unnumbered  are  at  hand  to 

But  now  we  think  it  a  question  wor-  |  make  good  the  assertion — thattbegreat 
thy  the  closest  examination,  whether,    civilizer  of  manners,  the  great  height- 


since  Christianity  has  all  along  proved 
a  sword,  the  human  race  has  been  be- 
nefited, in  temporal  respects,  by  its  pro- 
pagation. We  are  not  about  to  take  in- 
to account  the  unspeakable  advantages 
which  this  religion  has  conferred,  when 


ener  of  morals,  the  soother  of  the  af- 
flicted, the  patron  of  the  destitute,  the 
friend  of  the  oppressed— -this,  from  its 
first  establishment,  hath  Christianity 
been  ;  and  for  this  should  it  win  the 
veneration  of  those  who  know  not  its 


man  is  viewed  as  the  heir  of  immorta-  j  worth,  as  the  alone  guide  to  man's  final 
lity.  But  there  would  be  something  so  j  inheritance.  We  have  only  to  contrast 
unlocked  for  in  the  fact,  if  it  were  fact,  |  the  most  famous  and  refined  of  ancient 
that  the  amount  of  present  happiness  j  nations  with  modern  and  christian,  in 
had  been  diminished,  or  even  not  in-  !  order  to  assure  ourselves,  that,  in  all 
creased,  by  Christianity,  that  we  have  I  which  can  give  dignity  to  our  nature, 
right  to  demand  stricter  than  ordinary  I  in  all  which  can  minister  to  public  ma- 
proof,  ere  we  receive  it  into  our  cata-  i  jesty  and  private  comfort,  to  indepen- 
logue  of  truths.   And  we  have  no  hesi- :  dence  of  mind,  security  of  property, 

42 


330 


CHRISTIANITY    A    SWORD. 


and  whatsoever  can  either  strengthen 
or  ornament  the  frame-work  of  society, 
heathenism — great  as  may  have  been 
the  progress  in  arts  and  sciences — must 
yield  at  once  and  immeasurably  to 
Christianity. 

It  is  easy  to  upbraid  our  religion,  be- 
cause it  hath  fulfilled  its  own  prophe- 
cies, and  proved  itself  a  sword  ;  but 
what  engine  has  been  so  efficient  as 
this  sword  in  accomplishing  results 
which  every  lover  of  virtue  admires, 
and  every  friend  of  humanity  applauds  1 
What  hath  banished  gross  vices  from 
the  open  stage  on  which  they  once 
walked  unblushingly,  and  forced  them, 
where  it  failed  to  exterminate,  to  hide 
themselves  in  the  shades  of  a  disgrace- 
ful privacy]  We  reply,  the  sword  Chris- 
tianity. What  hath  covered  lands  with 
buildings  unknown  in  earlier  and  much- 
vaunted  days,  with  hospitals,  and  infir- 
maries, and  asylums'?  We  answer,  the 
sword  Christianity.  What  is  gradually 
extirpating  slavery  from  the  earth,  and 
bringing  on  a  season,  too  long  delayed 
indeed,  but  our  approaches  to  which 
distance  incalculably  those  of  the  best 
heathen  times,  when  man  shall  own 
universally  a  brother  in  man,  and  dash 
ofi:'  every  fetter  which  cruelty  hath 
forged,  and  cupidity  fastened  1  We  an- 
swer unhesitatingly,  the  sword  Chris- 
tianity. What  hath  softened  the  hor- 
rors of  war,  rendering  comparatively 
unheard  of  the  massacre  of  the  unof- 
fending, and  the  oppression  of  captives  1 
What  hath  raised  the  female  sex  from 
the  degraded  position  which  they  still 
occupy  in  the  lands  of  a  false  faith  1 
What  hath  introduced  laws,  which 
shield  the  weakest  from  injury,  protect 
the  widow  in  her  loneliness,  and  secure 
his  rights  to  the  orphan '?  What  hath 
given  sacredness  to  every  domestic  re- 
lation, to  the  ties  which  bind  together 
the  husband  and  the  wife,  the  parent 
and  the  child,  the  master  and  the  ser- 
vant ;  and  thus  brought  those  virtues 
to  our  firesides,  the  exile  of  which 
takes  all  music  from  that  beautiful 
word  home  ?  To  all  such  questions  we 
have  but  one  reply,  the  sword  Chris- 
tianity. The  determined  foe  of  injus- 
tice in  its  every  form;  the  denouncer 
of  malice,  and  revenge,  and  pride,  pas- 
sions which  keep  the  surface  of  society 
ever  stormy  and  agitated  ;  the  nurse  of 
genuine  patriotism,  because  the  enemy 


of  selfishness  ;  the  founder  and  uphold- 
er of  noble  institutions,  because  the 
teacher  of  the  largest  philanthropy — 
Christianity  has  lifted  our  fallen  hu- 
manity to  a  moral  greatness  which 
seemed  wholly  out  of  reach,  to  a  sta- 
tion, which,  compared  with  that  occu- 
pied under  the  tyranny  of  heathenism, 
is  like  a  new  place  amongst  orders  in 
creation. 

And  nothing  is  needed,  in  proof  that 
we  put  forth  no  exaggerated  statement, 
but  that  Christendom  be  contrasted  with 
countries  which  have  not  yet  received 
Christianity.  If  you  are  in  search  of  the 
attributes  which  give  dignity  to  a  state, 
of  the  virtues  which  shed  lustre  and 
loveliness  over  families,  of  what  is 
magnificent  in  enterprise,  refined  in  ci- 
vilization, lofty  in  ethics,  admirable  in 
jurisprudence,  you  never  turn  to  any 
but  an  evangelized  territory,  in  order 
to  obtain  the  most  signal  exhibition. 
And  just  in  proportion  as  Christianity 
now  gains  footing  on  a  district  of  hea- 
thenism, there  is  a  distinct  improve- 
ment in  v/hatever  tends  to  exalt  a  na- 
tion, and  bring  comfort  and  respecta- 
bility into  its  households.  If  we  could 
but  plant  the  cross  on  every  mountain, 
and  in  every  valley,  of  this  globe,  pre- 
vailing on  a  thousand  tribes  to  cast 
away  their  idols,  and  hail  Jesus  Christ 
as  "  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords," 
who  doubts  that  we  should  have  done 
infinitely  more  towards  covering  our 
planet  with  all  the  dignities  and  decen- 
cies of  civilized  life,  than  by  centuries 
of  endeavor  to  humanize  barbarism 
without  molesting  superstition!  We 
are  clear  as  upon  a  point  which  needs 
no  argument,  because  ascertained  by 
experience,  and  which,  if  not  proved 
by  experience,  might  be  established  by 
irresistible  argument,  that,  in  teaching 
a  nation  the  religion  of  Christ,  we  teach 
it  the  principles  of  government,  which 
will  give  it  fixedness  as  an  empire, 
the  sciences  which  will  multiply  the 
comforts,  and  the  truths  which  will 
elevate  the  character,  of  its  population. 
Thoroughly  to  christianize  would  be 
thoroughly  to  regenerate  a  land.  And 
the  poor  missionary,  who,  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  his  faith,  and  the  fervor  of 
his  zeal,  throws  himself  into  the  waste 
of  paganism,  and  there,  with  no  appa- 
rent mechanism  at  his  disposal  for  al- 
tering the  condition  of  a  savage  com- 


CHRISTIANITY    A    SWORD. 


331 


munity,  labors  at  making  Christ  known 
to  idolaters — why,  we  say  of  this  in- 
trepid wrestler  with  ignorance,  that, 
in  toiling  to  save  the  souls,  he  is  toil- 
ing to  develope  the  intellectual  powers, 
reform  the  policy,  and  elevate  in  every 
respect  the  rank  of  the  beings  who  en- 
gage his  solicitudes.  The  day  on  which 
a  province  of  Africa  hearkened  to  his 
summons,  started  from  its  moral  de- 
basement, and  acknowledged  Jesus  as 
its  Savior,  would  be  also  the  day  on 
which  that  province  overstepped  one 
half  the  interval  by  which  it  had  been 
separated  from  civilized  Europe,  and 
Avent  on,  as  with  a  giant's  stride,  to- 
wards its  due  place  amongst  nations. 
So  that  however  true  it  be,  that,  in 
sending  Christianity,  you  send  a  sword, 
into  a  land,  we  will  not  for  a  moment 
harbor  the  opinion,  that  Christianity  is 
no  temporal  blessing,  if  received  by  the 
inhabitants  as  their  guide  to  immortali- 
ty. It  is  a  sword ;  and  divided  fami- 
lies, and  clashing  parties,  will  attest 
the  keenness  and  strength  of  the  wea- 
pon. But  then  it  is  also  a  sword,  whose 
bright  flash  scatters  the  darkness  of 
ages,  and  from  whose  point  shrink  away 
the  corruption,  the  cruelty,  and  the 
fraud,  which  flourished  in  that  dark- 
ness as  their  element.  It  is  a  sword  : 
and  it  must  pierce  to  the  sundering 
many  close  ties,  dissect  many  interests, 
and  lacerate  many  hearts.  But  to  wave 
this  sword  over  a  land  is  to  break  the 
spell  fastened  on  it  by  centuries  of  ig- 
norance ;  and  to  disperse,  or,  at  least, 
to  disturb,  those  brooding  spirits  which 
have  oppressed  its  population,  and  kept 
down  the  energies  which  ennoble  our 
race.  And,  therefore,  are  we  nothing 
moved  by  the  accusation,  that  Chris- 
tianity has  caused  some  portion  of 
misery.  We  deny  not  the  truth  of  the 
charge  :  to  disprove  that  truth  would 
be  to  disprove  Christianity  itself.  The 
Founder  prophesied  that  his  religion 
■would  be  a  sword,  and  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  prophecy  is  one  of  our  evi- 
dences that  he  came  forth  from  God. 
But  when  men  would  go  farther,  when 
they  would  arraign  Christianity  as  hav- 
ing increased,  on  the  whole,  the  sum 
of  human  misery,  oh,  then  we  have  our 
appeal  to  the  splendid  institutions  of 
civilized  states,  to  the  bulwarks  of  lib- 
erty which  they  have  bravely  thrown 
up,  to  the  structures  which  they  have 


reared  for  the  shelter  of  the  suffering, 
and  to  their  mighty  advancings  in  equi- 
ty, and  science,  and  good  order,  and 
greatness.  We  show  you  the  desert 
blossoming  as  the  rose,  and  all  because 
ploughed  by  the  sword  Christianity. 
We  show  you  every  chain  of  oppres- 
sion flying  into  shivers,  and  all  because 
struck  by  the  sword  Christianity.  We 
show  you  the  coffers  of  the  wealthy 
bursting  open  for  tjie  succor  of  the  des- 
titute, and  all  because  touched  by  the 
sword  Christianity.  We  show  you  the 
human  intellect  springing  into  man- 
hood, reason  starting  from  dwarfish- 
ness,  and  assuming  magnificence  of 
stature,  and  all  because  roused  by  the 
glare  of  the  sword  Christianity.  Ay,  if 
you  can  show  us  feuds,  and  jealousies, 
and  wars,  and  massacres,  and  charge 
them  home  on  Christianity  as  a  cause, 
we  can  show  you  whatsoever  is  con- 
fessed to  minister  most  to  the  welfare, 
and  glory,  and  strength,  and  happiness 
of  society,  stamped  with  one  broad  im- 
press, and  that  impress  the  sword  Chris- 
tianity :  and,  therefore,  are  we  bold  to 
declare  that  the  amount  of  temporal 
misery  has  been  immeasurably  dimin- 
ished by  the  propagation  of  the  reli- 
gion of  Jesus  ;  and  that  this  sword,  in 
spite  of  produced  slaughter  and  divi- 
sions, has  been,  and  still  is,  as  a  gold- 
en sceptre,  beneath  which  the  tribes  of 
our  race  have  found  a  rest  which  hea- 
thenism knew  only  in  its  poetry ;  a  free- 
dom, and  a  security,  and  a  greatness, 
which  philosophy  reached  only  in  its 
dreams. 

But  now,  having  examined  our  text 
as  a  prophecy,  we  are  briefly  to  inves- 
tigate the  causes  which  have  turned 
into  a  sword  that  which,  in  its  own  na- 
ture, is  emphatically  peace.  We  shall 
not  go  particularly  into  the  cases  of 
heathenism  persecuting  Christianity, 
and  popery  persecuting  protestantism. 
Neither  shall  we  speak  of  the  tumults 
caused  by  the  various  heresies  which, 
at  different  times,  have  sprung  up  in 
the  church.  When  men's  passions, 
prejudices,  and  interests  are  engaged 
on  the  side  of  error  and  corruption,  it 
is  unavoidable  that  the  advocates  of 
truth  and  purity  will  array  against 
themselves  hatred  and  hostility.  But 
we  will  take  the  more  ordinary  case, 
in  which  there  is  no  open  conflict  be- 
tween theological  systems  and  sects; 


332 


CHRISTIAXITY    A    SWORD. 


for  this  is  perhaps  the  only  one  in 
which  it  is  at  all  strange  that  divisions 
should  be  the  produce  of  Christianity. 
There  is  nothing  about  which  men  will 
not  form  different  opinions :  there  is 
scarce  an  opinion  too  absurd  to  find 
advocates;  especially  when,  if  true,  it 
Avould  be  advantageous ;  and  philoso- 
phy, with  its  various  schools,  would 
be  as  much  a  sword  as  Christianity 
with  its  various  sects,  if  as  much  were 
dependent  on  its  theories.  But,  wav- 
ing these  and  other  obvious  considera- 
tions,  let  us  see  how  the  sword  comes, 
where  there  is  no  direct  collision  be- 
tween heresy  and  orthodoxy.  Vv^e  stat- 
ed, as  you  will  remember,  in  the  intro- 
duction of  our  discourse,  that  Christi- 
anity is  a  system,  requiring  nothing 
but  cordial  reception,  in  order  to  its 
bringing  happiness  to  all  the  world's 
families.  The  truth  of  such  statement 
will  have  been  evidenced,  if  proof  can 
be  required,  by  our  foregoing  examina- 
tion of  the  effects  of  Christianity  on  so- 
ciety. We  are  warranted,  by  this  ex- 
amination, in  asserting,  as  we  have 
already  in  part  done,  that,  if  the  Gos- 
pel were  cordially  received  by  every 
individual  in  a  land,  there  would  be 
banished  from  that  land — we  say  not 
all  unhappiness,  for  a  nation  of  righte- 
ous would  still  be  a  nation  of  fallen 
men,  and  therefore  lie  exposed  to  sor- 
row and  death — but  certainly  the  chief 
part  of  that  misery  which  may  be  tra- 
ced to  the  feuds  of  our  race,  and  which 
confessedly  constitutes  a  great  fraction 
of  human  wretchedness.  The  tenden- 
cies of  Christianity  are  palpably  to  the 
production  of  thorough  unanimity;  so 
that  no  one  who  studies  the  character 
of  this  religion,  or  observes  its  effects 
even  where  partially  established,  can 
fail,  we  think,  to  entertain  the  convic- 
tion, that  a  nation  of  real  christians 
would  be  virtually  a  nation  of  affec- 
tionate brothers.  But  if  the  tendencies 
of  Christianity  be  thus  to  the  produc- 
ing peace,  we  must  suppose  tliat  there 
are  in  man  certain  counter  tendencies, 
and  that  the  sword  is  forged  from  the 
opposition  between  the  two.  Neither 
can  we  be  at  a  loss  to  discover  those 
counter  tendencies,  and  thus  to  ac- 
count for  the  divisions  and  persecu- 
tions to  which  Christianity  will  be  sure 
to  give  rise,  even  where  men  seem 
agreed  on  its  articles.  The  great  thing 


to  be  observed  is,  that  there  is  a  direct 
contrariety  between  the  maxims  of  the 
world  and  those  of  the  Gospel.  It  is 
impossible  for  a  man  to  become  a  true 
believer  in  .Jesus,  without  being  imme- 
diately marked  off  from  the  great  mass 
of  his  fellows.  If  the  whole  community 
went  over  with  him  to  the  discipleship 
of  Christ,  he  would  still  have  fellow- 
ship with  all  around,  though  widely 
different  from  that  which  he  has  here- 
tofore had.  But  when  he  goes  over 
alone,  or  with  but  few  associates  out 
of  many,  he  detaches  himself,  and  that 
too  by  a  great  wrench,  from  the  so- 
ciety to  which  he  has  belonged.  Be- 
tween the  world  which  still  "  lieth  in 
wickedness,"  and  that  little  company 
who  "  seek  a  better  country,  even  a 
heavenly,"  the  separation  is  so  broad 
that  Scripture  exhibits  the  one  as  the 
old  creation,  and  the  other  as  the  new. 
The  man  who  acts  on  the  principle 
that  he  is  immortal,  belongs,  we  had 
almost  said,  to  a  different  race  from 
the  man  whose  conduct  seems  to  pro- 
claim him  without  belief  in  the  death- 
lessness  of  the  soul. 

And  if  Christianity,  when  cordial- 
ly received,  thus  detach  the  recipient 
from  all  by  whom  it  is  only  nominal- 
ly received,  you  can  have  no  difficulty 
in  understanding  how  it  acts  virtually 
as  a  sword.  The  separation  would  be 
as  nothing,  if  it  were  only  of  that 
kind  which  exists  between  the  differ- 
ent ranks  and  classes  of  a  community. 
You  cannot  liken  to  a  sword  the  causes 
which  separate  the  higher  classes  from 
the  lower,  because  these  classes,  how- 
ever distant  from  each  other  in  exter- 
nal advantages,  are  linked  by  many 
ties;  and  their  relative  positions  do 
not  necessarily  produce  hostility  of 
feeling.  But  the  case  is  widely  differ- 
ent when  it  is  vital  Christianity  which 
breaks  into  parties  auy  set  of  men. 
The  separation  is  a  separation  on  prin- 
ciples; so  that  the  conduct  of  the  one 
party  will  unavoidably  reprove  that  of 
the  other,  and,  therefore,  excite  an  en- 
mity which  will  be  sure  to  show  itself 
in  some  open  demonstration. 

We  take  the  case  before  referred  to, 
that  of  a  family,  one  of  whose  mem- 
bers is  a  christian  inwardly,  whilst  the 
others  are  christians  only  outwardlj^ 
There  may  have  been  perfect  harmony 
in  this  family  up  to  the  time  at  which  vi- 


CHRISTIANITY    A    SWORD. 


333 


tal  Christianity  gained  a  place  within  its 
circle.  But,  afterwards,  there  must,  we 
fear,  be  interruption  of  this  harmony ; 
the  household  can  no  longer  present 
that  aspect  of  unanimity,  by  which  it 
once  won  the  admiration  of  every  be- 
holder. And  the  reason  of  this  change 
may  be  readily  defined.  Whilst  there 
was  nothing  but  nominal  Christianity, 
each  member  of  the  family  did  his  part 
towards  countenancing  the  rest  in  at- 
tachment to  the  perishable,  and  forget- 
fulness  of  the  imperishable,  and  was 
upheld  in  return  by  the  united  pro- 
ceedings of  all  those  around  him.  There 
may  have  been  great  diversity  of  pur- 
suit ;  the  several  individuals  may  have 
embraced  diflerent  professions,  and 
their  respective  tastes  may  have  led 
them  to  seek  enjoyment  in  uncon- 
nected channels.  But  forasmuch  as 
they  were  all  along  one  in  the  de- 
termination of  finding  happiness  in 
something  short  of  God,  division  upon 
earthly  matters  might  well  consist  with 
a  most  cordial  union,  the  agreement  be- 
ing perfect  on  the  principle  that  this 
world  is  man's  rest,  and  the  disagree- 
ment being  only  as  to  which  of  its  sec- 
tions should  be  chosen  for  a  home. 
But  you  will  observe  that,  when  vital 
Christianity  found  its  way  into  the 
breast  of  one  member  of  this  house- 
hold, there  must  have  passed  a  change, 
such  as  nothing  else  could  have  ef- 
fected, on  the  position  which  he  occu- 
pied relatively  to  the  others.  His  ac- 
quiring a  taste  for  religion,  while  the 
taste  of  his  companions  is  exclusively 
for  what  is  worldly,  difiers  widely  from 
his  acquiring  a  taste  for  music,  whilst 
the  taste  of  his  companions  is  exclu- 
sively for  painting.  The  taste  for  paint- 
ing is  not  rebuked,  as  it  were,  by  the 
taste  for  music;  they  may  be  called 
sister  tastes,  and  the  votaries  of  the 
two  may  remain  in  close  fellowship. 
Bat  there  is  no  congeniality,  nay,  there 
is  the  strongest  antipathy,  between  a 
taste  for  the  things  of  heaven  and  a 
taste  for  the  things  of  earth.  Hence 
the  religious  man,  unavoidably,  though 
it  may  be  silently,  reproaches  the  ir- 
religious, with  whom  he  is  in  habits  of 
family  intercourse.  His  deportment, 
exactly  in  the  degree  that  it  proves  his 
affections  set  on  things  above,  passes 
the  severest  censure  on  those  whose 
affections   are    set   on   things    below. 


And  if  it  be  a  consequence  on  the  in- 
troduction of  vital  Christianity,  that  one 
member  of  the  domestic  circle  becomes 
practically,  if  not  in  words,  the  re- 
prover of  the  rest,  it  must  also  follow 
that  this  one  will  incur  the  dislike 
of  the  rest,  a  dislike  which  will  show 
itself  in  more  or  less  offensive  acts, 
according  to  the  dispositions  and  cir- 
cumstances of  those  who  entertain  it. 
Thus  it  is  that  Christianity  is  turned 
into  a  sword.  Admitted  into  the  heart 
of  an  individual,  it  discovers  itself  in 
his  life,  and  so  makes  that  life  a  calm, 
but  unflinching,  rebuke  of  the  uncon- 
verted, by  its  contrast  with  their  own. 
But  such  rebuke  must  excite  enmity 
in  those  who  are  its  subjects.  So  that 
the  household  is  necessarily  divided; 
and  to  Christianity  must  the  division 
be  ascribed.  "A  man  is  set  at  vari- 
ance against  his  father,  and  the  daugh- 
ter against  her  mother,  and  the  daugh- 
ter-in-law against  her  mother-in-law." 
The  converted  member,  being  secret- 
ly disliked,  will,  under  some  shape  or 
another,  be  persecuted  by  the  uncon- 
verted ;  and  thus  the  result  is  brought 
round,  that  the  religion  which  Christ 
propagated,  though  in  its  own  nature 
peace,  becomes,  through  clashing  with 
opposing  principles,  a  sword  to  the 
family  into  which  it  gains  entrance. 

You  will  easily  extend  to  a  neigh- 
borhood, or  nation,  the  reasoning  thus 
applied  to  a  family.  Those  Avho  hold 
the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  in  their 
purity,  and  whose  con«!uct  is  regulated 
by  its  precepts,  will  unavoidably  form 
a  distinct  party,  to  which  Christ's  words 
may  be  applied,  "  If  ye  Avere  of  the 
world,  the  world  would  love  his  own  ; 
but  because  ye  are  not  of  the  world, 
but  I  have  chosen  you  out  of  the  world, 
therefore  the  world  hateth  you."  The 
principles  on  which  the  righteous  act 
are  so  repugnant  to  those  which  the 
mass  of  men  adopt,  that  to  look  for 
unanimity  would  be  to  expect  the  con- 
cord of  darkness  with  light.  So  long 
as  there  is  a  native  enmity  in  the  heart 
to  holiness  and  God — and  this  will  re- 
main until  the  nature  be  renewed — 
there  lies  a  moral  impossibility  against 
the  unbroken  peace  of  a  community, 
composed  of  the  righteous  and  the  un- 
righteous. They  are  men  of  different 
natures,  of  different  worlds:  the  one 
party  has  been  transferred  to  the  king- 


334. 


CHRISTIA?5ITy    A    SWORD. 


dotn  of  Christ,  the  other  remains  in  the 
kingdom   of  Satan.    And    since    there 
must  be  war  between  these  kingdoms, 
a  war  which  shall  only  then  terminate 
when  evil  is  expelled  from  this  crea- 
tion, and  the  works  of  the  devil  are  fi- 
nally destroyed,  peace  can  pervade  no 
province   of  Christendom,   unless   that 
province  contain  nothing  but  nominal, 
or  nothing  but  vital  Christianity.  Whilst 
there  is  nothing  but  nominal  Christiani- 
ty, there  is  peace,  the  peace  of  death ; 
Avhilst  nothing  but  vital,  there  is  peace, 
the  peace  of  heaven.     But  whilst  there 
is  a  mixture,  there  will  be  necessarily 
collision  between  the    two;  and,  just 
according  to  the  character  of  the  times, 
will  that  collision  produce  the  flames 
of  a  fierce  persecution,   or  the  heart- 
burnings of  a  silent,  but  rancorous  ha- 
tred.    Yes,   Christianity    is    the    olive- 
branch  ;  but  it  falls  upon  waters,  which, 
struck  by  any  thing  pure  and  heavenly, 
boil  instantly  up  as  though  stirred  by 
a  hurricane.    Christianity  is  the  dove  ; 
but  it  comes  down  to  the  forest  where 
the   ravenous    birds    and  the    unclean 
shelter,  and  the  gentlest  waving  of  its 
wing  rouses  the  brood  whose  haunts 
seem   invaded.     Christianity,  in  short, 
is    peace ;    but    it    is    peace  proposed 
to  rebels  with  their  weapons  in  their 
hands ;  and  v/ho   knows   not,   that,    if 
one  of  these  rebels  accept,  whilst  the 
others  refuse,  the  proffered  boon,  those 
who  adhere  to  their  treason  will  turn 
upon  him  who  takes  the  oath  of  alle- 
giance,   and   treat    him    as   basely  re- 
creant to  the  cause  he  has  espoused  1 
We  require,  therefore,  nothing  but  the 
confession    that    man,    in    his    natural 
state,  is  the  enemy  of  God,  and  that, 
consequently,  there  must  be  direct  con- 
trariety between  his  principles  and  those 
of  a  religion   which  makes    God   the 
first  object  of  love.    This  having  been 
granted,  you  may  take  the  case  either 
of  a  nation  or  a  family,  of  empires  bro- 
ken into  parties  and  sects,  or  of  house- 
holds where  the  flow  of  social  chari- 
ties has  been  suddenly  arrested  ;   but 
sufficiency  of  producing  cause  has  been 
assigned,  to  explain,  without  impeach- 
ing the  tendencies  of  Christianity,  why 
our  Lord's  words  have  all  along  been 
verified,  "  I  came  not  to  send  peace, 
but  a  sword." 

We  have  thus  examined  our  text  un- 
der different  points  of  view,  and  have 


only,    in    conclusion,    to  remark  how 
strictly  our  statements  harmonize  with 
prophecies    which    delineate  the   final 
spread  of  Christianity.  We  have  shown 
you  that  it  is  simply  because  but  par- 
tially received,  that  Christianity  is  prac- 
tically a  sword  on  the  earth.  Make  the 
reception  universal,    and,  in  place  of 
acting  as  a  sword,  Christianity  would 
bind  into  one  all  the  households,  and 
all  the  hearts  of  human  kind.  Thus  the 
tendencies  of  the  religion  are  to  the 
producing,  and,  when  produced,  to  the 
preserving  that  glorious  state  of  things 
which  is   yet  promised   in   Scripture, 
when  "nation  shall  not  lift  up  sword 
against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn 
war  any  more  ;"  when  "Ephraim  shall 
not   envy  Judah,  and  Judah  shall  not 
vex  Ephraim."    We  can  prove  christi- 
[  anity  fitted  for  the  universal  religion : 
we  can   prove   also,  that,  if  universal- 
ly received,  there  would  be  universal 
peace  and  universal  joy,  the  millennial 
day  of  a  long-troubled  creation.  It  may 
then  even  yet  be  a  sword,  but,  oh,  that 
every  heart  were  pierced   by  it,   and 
every  family  penetrated.    Christianity 
may  cause  dissensions,  and  we  lament 
them  as  proofs  of  the  frailty  and  cor- 
ruption of  our  nature;  but  we  would 
not   exchange  the  dissensions  for  the 
undisturbed  quiet  of  spiritual  lethargy. 
We  know  them  to  be  tokens  of  life  : 
where  enmity  is  excited,  godliness  is 
making  way.    And,  therefore,  we  will 
not  say,  in  the  words  of  the  prophet, 
"  O  thou  sword  of  the  Lord,  how  long 
will  it  be   ere  thou  be  quiet  ?  put  up 
thyself  into  thy  scabbard,  rest,  and  be 
still."     We  will    rather    say  with    the 
Psalmist  to  Messiah,  "  Gird  thy  sword 
upon  thy  thigh,  0  most  mighty ;  and 
in    thy    majesty    ride     prosperously." 
We  wish  no  scabbard  for  the  sword 
but  the  hearts  of  the  whole  human  po- 
pulation.   Thus   sheathed,  the  jubilee 
year  begins :  the  one  sword,  like  Aa- 
ron's  rod,   swallows  up  every  other ; 
and  the  universal  wound  is  the  univer- 
sal health. 

Let  each  of  us  remember,  that,  ere 
Christianity  can  be  to  him  peace,  it 
must  be  to  him  a  sword.  The  "  broken 
and  contrite  heart"  precedes  the  assur- 
ance that  we  are  "  accepted  in  the  be- 
loved." "  O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroy- 
ed thyself."  Where  are  there  sharper, 
more  cutting  words  than  these,  when 


THE    DEATH    OP    MOSES. 


335 


spoken  by  God's  Spirit  to  the  soull 
"  but  in  me  is  thine  help  found."  What 
syllables  can  breathe  more  of  hope,  of 
comfort,  of  serenity  I  The  sword  Chris- 
tianity is  that  weapon  which  heals  in 
wounding  :  there  is  balsam  on  its  point, 
and,  as  it  pierces,  it  cures.  Teaching 
man   to  feel   himself   lost,   what    can 


more  lacerate  the  spirit  ?  Teaching 
man  that  whosoever  will  may  be  saved 
by  a  Mediator,  what  balm  can  be  more 
medicinall  May  God  grant  unto  all  of 
us,  that,  being  first  stricken  with  a 
sense  of  sin,  we  may  be  "justified  by 
faith,"  and  thus  have  "  peace  with  God, 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 


SERMON   VI. 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES 


•"  And  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses  that  selfsame  day,  saying,  Get  thee  up  into  this  mountain  Abarim,  un- 
to mount  Nebo,  which  is  in  the  land  of  Moab,  that  is  over  against  Jericho ;  and  behold  the  land  of 
Canaan,  which  I  give  unto  the  children  of  Israel  for  a  possession  ;  and  die  in  the  mount  whither 
thou  goest  up,  and  be  gathered  unto  thy  people,  as  Aaron  thy  brother  died  in  mount  Hor,  and  was 
gathered  unto  his  people." — Deuteronomy,  32  :  48,  50. 


The  long  wanderings  of  the  Israelites 
were  now  about  to  be  concluded.  That 
Avicked  generation,  which  had  provoked 
God  by  their  murmuring  and  rebellion, 
had  been  exterminated  according  to  the 
divine  threat ;  and  their  children  stood 
by  the  waters  of  Jordan,  waiting  the 
command  to  go  over  and  expel  the  Ca- 
naanites.  The  land,  flowing  with  milk 
and  honey,  was  actually  in  view;  the 
land  which  had  been  promised  to  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  and  Jacob  ;  and  in  order  to 
the  possession  of  which  by  their  de- 
scendants, Egypt  had  been  desolated 
with  plagues,  and  a  mystic  pillar  of  fire 
and  cloud  had  traversed  the  wilderness. 
It  was  a  moment  of  great  excitement, 
and  of  great  triumph  :  many  must  have 
looked  irnpatientlj'  on  the  river,  which 
now  alone  divided  them  from  their  he- 
ritage, and  have  longed  for  the  permis- 
sion to  pass  this  last  barrier,  and  tread 
the  soil  which  was  to  be  henceforward 
their  own.  And  who  shall  be  more  ex- 
cited, who  more  eager  for  the  crossing 
the  Jordan,  than  the  great  leader  of  the 
people,  he  who  had  been  commissioned 


'  to  deliver  them  from  bondage,  and  who 
'  had  borne  meekly  with  their  insolence 
and  ingratitude  during  forty  years  of 
danger  and  toil  1  It  was  the  only  earth- 
ly recompense  which  the  captain  of  Is- 
rael could  receive,  that,  having  been  in- 
strumental in  bringing  the  nation  to  the 
very  border  of  their  inheritance,  he 
should  behold  them  happily  settled  ; 
and  enjoy,  in  his  old  age,  the  beautiful 
spectacle  of  the  twelve  tribes  dividing 
amongst  themselves  the  fields  and  the 
vineyards  for  which  their  fathers  had 
longed.  Or,  if  this  were  too  much,  and 
he  must  resign  to  those  younger  than 
himself  the  leading  Israel  to  battle  with 
the  possessors  of  the  land,  let  him,  at 
least,  behold  the  rich  valleys,  the  sunny 
hills,  the  sparkling  brooks;  and  thus 
satisfy  himself,  by  actual  inspection,  of 
the  goodliness  of  the  heritage,  the 
thought  of  which  had  cheered  him  in 
a  thousand  toils  and  perils. 

But  Moses,  though  there  was  to  arise 
after  him  no  prophet  so  honored  and 
faithful  ;  though  he  had  been  admitted 
to  speak  face  to  face  with  the  Lord, 


336 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES. 


and  had  received  marks  of  divine  ap- 
probation granted  neither  before  nor 
since  to  any  of  our  race — Moses  had 
sinned,  and  the  incurred  penalty  had 
been,  that  he  should  not  enter  the  land 
of  promise.  His  earnest  desire  and 
prayer  can  do  nothing  towards  procu- 
ring remission  of  the  sentence:  he  may 
ascend  Mount  Nebo,  and  thence  may 
he  catch  a  distant  view  of  the  spread- 
ings  of  Canaan  :  but  he  shall  not  cross 
the  Jordan,  he  shall  not  plant  his  foot 
on  the  long-desired  Palestine.  Strange 
and  apparently  harsh  decree  !  The  sin 
itself  had  not  seemed  extraordinarily 
heinous;  yet  the  threatened  retribution 
is  not  to  be  escaped:  lengthened  and 
unvaried  obedience  can  do  nothing 
when  set  against  the  solitary  offence  ; 
and  the  intercessor,  who  had  so  often 
pleaded  successfully  with  God  for  the 
thousands  of  Israel,  is  denied  the  slight 
boon  which  he  ventured  to  ask  for  him- 
self. Look  on  the  assembled  congre- 
gation :  who  doubts  that  there  are  ma- 
ny in  that  vast  gathering,  who  have 
done  much  to  provoke  the  Almighty, 
who  will  carry  into  Canaan  unsancti- 
fied  hearts  and  ungrateful  spirits'?  Yet 
shall  they  all  go  over  the  Jordan  :  they 
shall  all  follow  the  ark,  weighty  with 
sacramental  treasures,  as  the  waters 
divide  before  it,  doing  homage  to  the 
symbol  of  divinity.  None  shall  be  left 
behind  but  he  w^ho  was  first  amongst 
the  servants  of  God,  who  would  have 
felt  the  purest  joy,  and  offered  the 
richest  praise,  on  entering  the  land 
which  had  been  promised  to  his  an- 
cestors. Aaron  \vas  already  dead:  this 
father  of  the  Levitical  priesthood  had 
offended  with  Moses ;  and  therefore 
was  he  denied  the  privilege  of  offering 
the  first  sacrifice  in  Canaan,  and  thus 
consecrating,  as  it  w^ere,  the  inherit- 
ance of  the  Lord.  And  now  must  Mo- 
ses also  be  gathered  to  his  fathers  :  he 
has  been  spared  longer  than  Aaron,  for 
he  had  been  far  more  upright  and  obe- 
dient :  he  had  been  permitted  to  ap- 
proach much  nearer  to  the  promised 
land,  yea,  actually  to  come  within 
sight ;  but  the  Lord  is  not  forgetful  of 
his  word ;  and  now,  therefore,  comes 
this  startling  message,  "  Get  thee  up  in- 
to this  mountain,  and  die  in  the  mount, 
and  be  gathered  unto  thy  people  ;  as 
Aaron  thy  brother  died  in  Mount  Hor, 
and  was  gathered  unto  his  people." 


The  commanu  was  obeyed  without 
a  murmur.  This  man  of  God,  Avhose 
"  eye  was  not  dim,  nor  his  natural  force 
abated,"  ascended  to  the  top  of  Pis- 
gab ;  and  there  did  the  Lord,  miracu- 
lously assisting  his  vision,  show  him 
"  all  the  land  of  Gilead,  unto  Dan,  and 
all  Naphtali,  and  the  land  of  Ephraim, 
and  Manasseh,  and  all  the  land  of  Ju- 
dah  unto  the  utmost  sea,  and  the  south, 
and  the  plain  of  the  valley  of  Jericho, 
the  city  of  palm-trees,  unto  Zoar." 
This  having  been  done,  he  breathed 
out  his  soul  into  the  hands  of  his  Ma- 
ker; and  "the  Lord  buried  him  in  a 
valley  over  against  Bethpeor;"  but  no 
human  eye  saw  this  mysterious  disso- 
lution, and  "no  man  knoweth  of  his 
sepulchre  unto  this  day." 

Now  we  consider  this  as  a  very  inte- 
resting and  instructive  portion  of  sa- 
cred history,  presenting  in  large  mea- 
sure material  for  profitable  discourse. 
We  design,  therefore,  to  engage  you 
with  its  consideration  ;  and  if  the  truths 
which  we  shall  have  to  bring  before 
you,  be  only  those  with  which  frequent 
hearing  has  made  you  familiar,  they 
will  be  found,  we  think,  of  such  im- 
portance as  to  warrant  their  being  of- 
ten repeated.  It  will  be  necessary  that 
we  examine  the  sin  of  which  Moses  had 
been  guilty,  and  which  entailed  his  ex- 
clusion from  Canaan.  After  this,  we 
shall  have  to  consider  the  peculiar 
circumstances  of  his  death.  There 
are  thus  two  general  divisions  under 
which  our  subject  will  naturally  re- 
solve itself.  In  the  first  place,  we 
are  to  consider  why  God  refused  to 
allow  Moses  to  pass  over  Jordan:  in 
the  second  place,  we  are  to  give  our 
attention  to  the  narrative  of  his  as- 
cending ]\Iount  Nebo,  and  there  ex- 
piring in  view  of  the  land  which  he 
was  not  to  enter. 

Now  you  will  remember  that,  soon 
after  the  Israelites  had  come  out  of 
Egypt,  they  were  distressed  for  water 
in  the  \vilderness,  and'  were  so  in-  ^ 
censed  against  Moses  as  to  .be  almost 
ready  to  stone  him.  On  this  occasion 
Moses  was  directed  by  God  to  take 
the  rod,  with  which  he  had  wrought 
such  great  wonders  in  Egypt,  and  to 
smite  the  rock  ia  Horeb ;  he  did  so, 
and  forthwith  came  there  out  water 
in  abundance.  It  is  generally  allowed 
that  this  rock  in  lioreb  Avas  typical  of 


THE    DEATH    OF    M0SE8. 


337 


Christ  J  and  that  the  circumstance  of 
the  rock  jdelding  no  water,  until  smit- 
ten by  the  rod  of  Moses,  represented 
the  important  truth,  that  the  Mediator 
must  receive  the  blows  of  the  law  be- 
fore he  could  be  the  source  of  salva- 
tion to  a  parched  and  perishing  world. 
It  is  to  this  that  St.  Paul  refers,  when 
he  says  of  the  Jews,  "  They  did  all 
drink  the  same  spiritual  drink;  for  they 
drank  of  that  spiritual  rock  that  fol- 
lowed them,  and  that  rock  was  Christ." 
It  appears  that  the  waters,  which  gush- 
ed from  the  rock  in  Horeb,  attended 
the  Israelites  during  the  chief  part  of 
their  wanderings  in  the  wilderness; 
and  this  it  is  which  we  are  to  under- 
stand, when  the  apostle  affirms  that 
the  rock  followed  them — the  rock  it- 
self did  not  follow  them,  but  the  stream 
which  had  issued  from  that  rock — a 
beautiful  representation  of  the  fact, 
that,  if  Christ  were  once  smitten,  or 
once  sacrificed,  a  life-giving  current 
would  accompanj'^  continually  the 
church  in  the  wilderness.  We  do  not 
read  again  of  any  scarcity  of  water  un- 
til thirty-seven  years  after,  when  the 
generation  which  had  come  out  of 
Egypt  had  been  destroyed  for  their 
unbelief,  and  their  children  were  about 
to  enter  Canaan.  It  is  probable  that 
God  then  allowed  the  supply  of  water 
to  fail,  in  order  that  the  Israelites 
might  be  reminded  that  they  were  mi- 
raculously sustained,  and  taught,  what 
they  were  always  apt  to  forget,  their 
dependence  on  the  guardianship  of  the 
Almighty.  Assuredly  they  needed  the 
lesson;  for  no  sooner  did  they  find 
themselves  in  want  of  water,  than  they 
showed  the  same  unbelief  which  their 
fathers  had  manifested,  and,  in  place 
of  meekly  trusting  in  the  God  who 
had  so  long  provided  for  their  wants, 
"  they  gathered  themselves  together 
against  Moses  and  Aaron,"  and  bitter- 
ly reviled  them  for  having  brought 
them  out  of  Egypt. 

Moses  is  bidden,  as  on  the  former 
occasion,  to  take  his  rod,  that  he  may 
bring  forth  water  from  the  rock.  But 
you  are  to  observe  carefully  the  differ- 
ence between  the  command  now  given 
him,  and  that  which  had  been  delivered 
in  Horeb.  In  the  latter  instance,  God 
had  distinctly  said  to  him,  "  Behold,  I 
will  stand  before  thee  there  upon  the 
rock  in  Horeb,  and  thou  shalt  smite 


the  rock,  and  there  shall  come  water 
out  of  it,  that  the  people  may  drink." 
But  in  the  present  instance  the  direc- 
tion is,  "  Speak  ye  unto  the  rock  be- 
fore their  eyes,  and  it  shall  give  forth 
his  water."  In  the  one  case,  Moses 
was  expressly  commanded  to  smite  the 
rock;  in  the  other,  he  was  as  express- 
ly commanded  only  to  speak  unto  the 
rock.  And  we  cannot  but  consider 
that  there  was  something  very  signifi- 
cant in  this.  The  rock,  as  we  have  sup- 
posed, typified  Christ,  who  was  to  be 
once  smitten  by  the  rod  of  the  law,  but 
only  once;  seeing  that  "by  one  ofl^er- 
ing  he  had  perfected  for  ever  them 
that  are  sanctified."  Having  been  once 
smitten,  there  is  nothing  needed,  in 
any  after  dearth,  but  that  this  rock 
should  be  spoken  to ;  prayer,  if  we 
may  use  the  expression,  will  open  the 
pierced  side  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  and 
cause  fresh  flowings  of  that  stream 
which  is  for  the  cleansing  of  the  na- 
tions. Hence  it  would  have  been  to 
violate  the  integrity  and  beauty  of  the 
type,  that  the  rock  should  have  been 
smitten  again ;  it  would  have  been  to 
represent  a  necessity  that  Christ  should 
be  twice  sacrificed,  and  thus  to  darken 
the  whole  Gospel  scheme.  Yet  this  it 
was  which  Moses  did  ;  and,  in  doing 
this,  he  greatly  displeased  God.  We 
have  shown  you  that  the  command  to 
Moses  and  Aaron  was  most  distinct, 
"  Speak  ye  unto  the  rock  before  their 
eyes."  But  when  we  come  to  see  how 
the  command  was  obeyed,  we  read  as 
follows :  "  And  Moses  and  Aaron  ga- 
thered the  congregation  together  be- 
fore the  rock  ;  and  he  said  unto  them, 
Hear  now,  ye  rebels,  must  we  fetch 
you  water  out  of  this  rock  %  And 
Moses  lifted  up  his  hand,  and  with  his 
rod  he  smote  the  rock  twice." 

Can  you  fail,  my  brethren,  to  see 
that  herein  Moses  sinned  grievously! 
It  is  evident  that  he  was  chafed  and  ir- 
ritated in  spirit ;  his  language  shows 
this,  "  hear  now,  ye  rebels :"  rebels  in- 
deed the  Israelites  were  ;  but  it  was 
manifestly  in  a  burst  of  human  passion, 
rather  than  of  holy  indignation,  that 
Moses  here  used  the  term.  And,  then, 
observe  how  he  proceeds — "Must  we 
fetch  you  water  out  of  this  rockl" 
What  are  ye,  O  Moses  and  Aaron, 
that  you  should  speak  as  though  the 
virtue  were  in  you,  when  you  are 
43 


338 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES. 


men  of  like  passions  and  feebleness 
with  ourselves'?  The  Psalmist,  when 
giving  us  the  history  of  his  nation 
during  their  sojourning  in  the  wilder- 
ness, might  well  describe  Moses  as 
provoked,  on  this  occasion,  to  hasty 
and  intemperate  speech.  "  They  an- 
gered God  also  at  the  waters  of  strife, 
so  that  it  went  ill  with  Moses  for  their 
sakes,  because  they  provoked  his  spi- 
rit, so  that  he  spake  unadvisedly  with 
his  lips." 

But  this  was  not  the  whole,  and  per- 
haps not  the  chief  of  his  ofTence.  In 
place  of  doing  only  as  he  had  been  bid- 
den, and  speaking  to  the  rock,  he  lifted 
up  his  hand  and  smote  the  rock,  yea, 
smote  it  twice.  Was  this  merely  in 
the  irritation  of  the  moment,  or  in  ac- 
tual unbelief?  Did  he  only  forget  the 
command  ;  or  did  he  fear  that  a  simple 
•word  would  not  suffice,  seeing  that,  on 
the  former  occasion,  the  rock  yielded 
no  water  until  smitten  by  the  rod? 
Probably  there  was  a  measure  of  dis- 
trust; he  would  hardly  else  have  struck 
■twice  ;  and  faith  was  not  likely  to  be 
in  vigorous  exercise  when  an  unholy 
wrath  had  possession  of  his  mind.  And 
thus  the  lawgiver  displayed  passion, 
:ind  arrogance,  and  unbelief:  passion, 
in  that  he  addressed  the  multitude  in 
the  language  of  an  irritated  man;  ar- 
rogance, in  that  he  spake  as  though 
his  own  power  were  to  bring  forth 
the  water;  unbelief,  in  that  he  smote 
where  he  had  been  commanded  only 
to  speak.  It  seems  probable  that  it  was 
the  unbelief  which  specially  provoked 
God:  for  when  he  proceeded  to  the  re- 
buking the  sin,  it  was  in  these  terms, 
"Because  ye  believed  me  not  to  sanc- 
tify me  in  the  eyes  of  the  children  of 
Israel." 

To  us,  accustomed,  as  we  unhappily 
are,  to  offend  more  grievously  than 
Moses,  even  when  the  utmost  had  been 
said  in  aggravation  of  his  sin,  it  may 
seem  that  God  dealt  harshly  with  his 
servant,  in  immediately  pronouncing 
as  his  sentence,  that  he  should  not 
bring  the  congregation  into  the  land 
which  he  would  give  them.  It  was  a 
sentence  of  which  Moses  himself  felt 
the  severity;  for  he  describes  himself 
us  pleading  earnestly  for  a  remission. 
But  he  pleaded  in  vain  ;  nay,  he  seems 
to  have  been  repulsed  with  indigna- 
tion ;  for  it  is  thus  that  he  describes 


the  issue  of  his  supplication:  "But 
the  Lord  was  wroth  with  me  for  your 
sakes,  and  would  not  hear  me  ;  and  the 
Lord  said  unto  me,  Let  it  suffice  thee, 
speak  no  more  unto  me  of  this  mat- 
ter." Let  it  however  be  remembered, 
that  the  eyes  of  all  Israel  were  now 
upon  Moses  and  Aaron ;  and  that,  the 
more  exalted  their  station,  and  the 
more  eminent  their  piety,  the  more 
requisite  was  it  that  God  should  mark 
their  ofTence  ;  thus  proving  that  he 
will  not  tolerate  sin  even  in  those 
whom  he  most  loves  and  approves.  It 
is  not  because  a  man  stands  high  in 
the  favor  of  his  Maker,  that  he  may 
expect  to  escape  the  temporal  retribu- 
tions of  a  fault ;  on  the  contrary,  since 
he  is  not  to  sustain  its  eternal  retribu- 
tions, there  is  the  greater  reason  why 
the  temporal  should  not  be  remitted; 
for  if  they  were,  his  sin  would  be 
wholly  unvisited,  and  therefore  appa- 
rently overlooked  by  God.  And  though 
indeed  Moses  had  been  singularly  faith- 
ful and  obedient,  who  can  fail  to  per- 
ceive that  the  uncommonness  of  his 
fault  would  only  have  made  his  being 
unpunished  more  observable  ;  whereas 
it  gave,  on  the  other  hand,  opportunity 
for  a  most  impressive  lesson,  as  to 
God's  hatred  of  sin,  and  his  resolve 
that  it  shall  never  go  unrecompensedl 
The  whole  congregation  had  seen  the 
sin  committed  ;  had  they  seen  it  also 
unnoticed  by  God,  they  might  have 
argued  that  impatience  and  unbelief 
were  excusable  in  certain  persons,  or 
under  certain  provocations.  But  when 
they  found  that  Aaron  was  to  die  on 
Mount  Hor,  and  Moses  on  Mount  Ne- 
bo,  because  they  had  not  believed  God 
to  sanctify  him  in  their  eyes,  they 
were  taught,  even  more  impressively 
than  by  any  thing  which  had  happened 
to  themselves  or  their  fathers,  that  sin 
necessarily  moves,  under  all  circum- 
stances, the  wrath  of  the  Almighty  ; 
that  no  amount,  whether  of  previous 
or  after  righteousness,  can  compensate 
for  the  smallest  transgression ;  and 
that  eminence  as  a  saint,  rather  in- 
sures than  averts  some  penal  visitation, 
if  there  be  the  least  swerving  from  the 
strict  Ime  of  duty. 

And  the  lesson  should  lose  none  of  its 
impressiveness  because  delivered  ages 
back,  and  under  a  dispensation  which 
had  more  of  temporal  sanctions  than 


THK    DEATFl    OF    HOSES. 


339 


our  own.  If  I  would  judire  the  evil  na- 
ture of  unbelief,  if  I   would    estimate 
how  the  least  distrust  of  his  word  pro- 
vokes the   Most  High,  I  know  not  on 
what  I  can  better  fix  my  attention  thaa 
on  Moses,  arrested  on  the  very  thresh- 
old of  Canaan,  because,   on  a  solitary 
occasion,    when   moreover   there   was 
much  to   incense   him,  he  had  shown 
want  of  confidence  in  God,  ami  over- 
stepped the  limits  of  a  command.   The 
thousands  who  fell  in  the  wilderness 
"  because  of  unbelief,"  warn  me  not  so 
emphatically  as  this  single   individual, 
shut  out  from  the  promised  land.  They 
were  bold  and    dissolute   men  :    often 
and  fiercely  did  they  provoke  God  in 
the  desert.  But  he  was  the  very  meek-  | 
est  on  the  earth  :  his  face,  it  may  be, 
still  shone  with   celestial  radiance,  as 
when  he  descended  from  communing 
with  God  on  the  mount ;  and  I  do  not 
know  that  there  is  another  registered 
instance,  during  all    the    years  which 
had  elapsed  since  the    coming  out  of 
Egypt,  in  which  he  had  displayed  the 
least  approach  to  deficiency  in  faith. 
Does  he  not  then  furnish  a  most  signal 
demonstration,  that  unbelief,  in  every 
degree  and  with  every  palliation,  stores 
up  against    us   matter  of  accusation; 
and  that,  if  we   will  not    simply  take 
God  at  his  word,  act  on  his  precepts, 
and  leave  him  to  make  good  his  prom- 
ises, we  expose  ourselves  to  his  heavy 
indignation,  and  must  look  for  nothing 
but  the  fulfilment  of  his  threatenings  1 
Let  us  be  assured   that  God  does  not 
overlook,  but  rather  accurately  notes, 
with  full  intent  to  recompense,  those 
doubtings  and  mistrustings  which  are 
often  found  in  the  best  of  his  servants  ; 
and  that,  if  he  do  not  at    the  instant 
punish   his   people,  when  they  follow 
not  implicitly  his  bidding,  it  is  not  be- 
cause he  thinks  little  of  the  ofTence, 
but  because  he  sees  fit  to  defer  the  re- 
tribution. And  if  any  one  of  you  would 
plead  that  it  is  very  hard  to  be  simply 
obedient,  that  reason  will  come  in  with 
its  suggestions,  and  that  then  it  is  in- 
tensely difficult  to  adhere  strictly  to 
revelation  ;  if  he  would  think  it  some 
excuse  for  the  defects  of  his  faith,  that 
he  is  taken  by  surprise,  or  placed  in 
trying   circumstances,   or  is  constitu- 
tionally anxious,  or  generally  firm — we 
send  him  to  behold  Moses,  eager  to  en- 
ter Canaan,  and  almost  within  its  bor- 


ders, and  nevertheless  commanded  to 
ascend  ]\Iount  Nebo  to  die  ;  and  we 
think  that  he  will  hardly  venture  to 
make  light  hereafter  of  the  least  dis- 
trust of  God,  when  he  finds  that  this 
eminent  saint  expired  on  the  very  rnar- 
gin  of  the  promised  inheritance,  just 
because,  in  a  moment  of  unbelief,  he 
had  smitten  the  rock  to  which  he  had 
been  directed  only  to  speak. 

Such  then  was  the  ofTence  of  Moses  : 
an  ofience  which  we  are  perhaps  dis- 
posed to  underrate,  because  prone  our- 
selves to  impatience  and  unbelief;  and 
of  which,  as  probably,  we  overrate  the 
punishment,  not  considering  that  the 
chastisement  was  altogether  temporal. 
I  It  is  true  that  God  was  angry  with  Mo- 
ses, and  that  he  showed  his  anger  by 
disappointing  one  of  his  most  cherish- 
I  ed  hopes  :  but  the  anger  was  exhaust- 
ed in  the  one  decree,  that  he  must  die 
upon  Nebo  ;  for  this  mountain  was  to 
be  as  the  gate  to  paradise. 

Let  us  now  however  examine  the 
particulars  which  are  narrated  in  our 
text  of  the  departure  of  Moses.  The 
sentence  had  been,  that  Moses  should 
not  bring  the  congregation  into  Canaan. 
Its  literal  execution  did  not  forbid  his 
approaching  to  the  very  confines  of  the 
land,  nor  his  being  allowed  to  look  up- 
on its  provinces.  And  accordingly  God, 
who  always  tempers  judgment  \vith 
mercy,  though  he  would  not  remit  the 
sentence,  gave  his  servant  as  much  in- 
dulgence as  consisted  with  its  terms, 
suftering  him  to  advance  to  the-  very 
edge  of  the  Jordan,  and  then  directing 
him  to  a  mountain  whence  he  might 
gaze  on  large  districts  of  the  expected 
inheritance.  Still  the  hour  is  come  when 
Moses  must  die,  however  graciously  it 
may  be  ordered,  that,  though  he  is  to 
depart  out  of  life  because  he  had  dis- 
pleased God,  his  departure  shall  be 
soothed  by  tokens  of  favor.  There  is  a 
strange  mixture  of  severity  and  gentle- 
ness in  the  command,  "Get  thee  up 
into  this  mountain,  and  behold  the  land 
of  Canaan,  and  die  in  the  mount  whi- 
ther thou  goest  up."  There  is  severity 
—thou  must  die,  though  thou  art  yet 
in  full  strength,  with  every  power, 
whether  of  mind  or'of  body,  unimpair- 
ed. But  there  is  also  gentleness — thou 
must  die  ;  but  yet  thou  shalt  not  close 
thine  eyes  upon  the  world  until  they 
have  been  gladdened  by  a  sight  of  the 


340 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES. 


valleys  and  mountains  which  Israel 
shall  possess- 
Yet  it  is  neither  the  severity,  nor  the 
gentleness,  which  is  most  observable 
in  the  passage  :  it  is  the  simple,  easy 
manner  in  which  the  command  is  given. 
"  Go  up  and  die."  Had  God  been  bid- 
ding Moses  to  a  banquet,  or  directing 
him  to  perform  the  most  ordinary  du- 
ty, he  could  not  have  spoken  more  fa- 
miliarly, or  with  less  indication  of  re- 
quiring what  was  painful  or  difficult.* 
And  in  truth  it  was  no  hardship  to 
Moses  to  die.  He  had  deliberately  "  es- 
teemed the  reproach  of  Christ  greater 
riches  than  all  the  treasures  in  Egypt," 
and  had  long  "  had  respect  unto  the  re- 
compense of  the  reward."  And  though 
he  would  fain  have  lived  a  while  long- 
er, to  complete  the  work  at  which  he 
had  labored  for  years,  he  knew  that  to 
die  would  be  to  enter  a  land,  of  which 
Canaan,  with  all  its  brightness,  was  but 
a  dim  type.  Therefore  could  God  speak 
to  him  of  dying,  just  as  he  would  have 
spoken  of  taking  rest  in  sleep :  as 
though  there  could  be  nothing  formi- 
dable in  the  act  of  dissolution,  nothing 
from  which  human  nature  might  shrink. 
Yet  we  could  not  have  wondered,  had 
Moses  manifested  reluctance  ;  for  it 
was  in  a  mysterious,  and  almost  fear- 
ful manner,  that  he  was  to  depart  out 
of  life.  It  is,  in  all  cases,  a  solemn 
thing  to  die  ;  and  our  nature,  when  ga- 
thering itself  up  for  the  act  of  dissolu- 
tion, seems  to  need  all  the  prayers  and 
kindnesses  of  friends,  that  it  may  be 
enabled  to  meet  the  last  enemy  with 
composure.  The  chamber  in  which  a 
good  man  dies,  is  ordinarily  occupied 
by  affectionate  relatives ;  they  stand 
round  his  bed,  to  watch  his  every  look, 
and  catch  his  every  word  :  they  whis- 
per him  encouraging  truths,  and  they 
speak  cheeringly  of  the  better  land  to 
which  he  is  hastening,  though  they 
may  often  be  obliged  to  turn  away  the 
face,  lest  he  should  be  grieved  by  the 
tears  which  their  own  loss  extorts. 
And  all  this  detracts  somewhat  from 
the  terror  of  dying.  It  is  not,  that,  if 
the  dying  man  were  alone,  God  could 
not  equally  sustain  him  by  the  conso- 
lations of  his  grace.  But  it  is,  that 
there  is  something  in  the  visible  in- 
strumentality, which  is  specially  adapt- 

-    '  •  Bishop  Hall.      • 


ed  to  our  nature  :  we  are  disposed  to 
the  leaning  upon  sensible  aids,  so  that, 
whilst  yet  in  the  flesh,  we  can  scarce 
commit  ourselves  to  spiritual  agency. 
Take  away  all  the  relatives  and  friends 
from  the  sick  room,  and  is  there  not  a 
scene  of  extraordinary  desolateness,  a 
scene  from  which  every  one  of  us  re- 
coils, and  which  presents  to  the  mind 
such  a  picture  of  desertion,  that  the 
thought  of  its  being  our  own  lot  would 
suffice  to  embitter  the  rest  of  our  days  ] 
Yet  it  was  alone  that  Moses  was  to 
die :  no  friend  was  to  accompany  him 
to  Pisgah ;  no  relative  was  to  be  near 
when  he  breathed  out  his  soul.  "Get 
thee  up  into  this  mountain,  and  die 
there."  Strange  death-bed,  which  I  am 
thus  ordered  to  ascend  !  Mine  eye  is 
not  dimmed,  my  strength  is  not  broken 
— what  fierce  and  sudden  sickness  will 
seize  me  on  that  mount  1  Am  I  to  lin- 
ger there  in  unalleviated  pain  1  and 
then,  when  my  soul  at  length  struggles 
free,  must  my  body  be  left,  a  dishonor- 
ed thing,  to  be  preyed  on  by  the  beasts 
of  the  field,  and  the  fowls  of  the  airl 
Would  you  not  have  expected  that 
thoughts  such  as  these  would  have 
crowded  and  distressed  the  mind  of 
the  great  lawgiver,  on  receiving  the 
direction  of  our  textl  I  cannot  find 
words  to  express  to  you  what  I  think 
of  the  mysteriousness  and  awfulness  of 
the  scene  through  which  Moses  had  to 
pass.  To  separate  himself  from  the 
people  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  at- 
tached ;  to  ascend,  without  a  single 
companion,  the  mountain  from  which 
he  was  never  to  return  ;  to  climb  the 
lofty  summit  for  the  express  purpose 
of  there  grappling  with  death,  though 
he  knew  not  with  what  terrors,  nor  un- 
der what  shape;  to  go,  in  his  unabated 
vigor,  that,  on  a  wild  spot,  alone  with 
his  Creator,  he  might  be  consumed  by 
slow  disease,  or  rapt  away  in  a  whirl- 
wind, or  stricken  down  by  lightning — 
I  feel  as  though  it  had  been  less  trying, 
had  he  been  summoned  to  a  martyr's 
death,  to  ascend  the  scaffold  in  place 
of  the  mountain,  and  to  brave  the  cries 
of  bloodthirsty  persecutors  instead  of 
the  loneliness,  the  breathlessness,  of 
the  summit  of  Pisgah.  And  never  does 
Moses  wear  to  me  such  an  air  of  mo- 
ral sublimity,  as  when  I  contemplate 
him  leaving  the  camp,  for  the  express 
purpose  of  resigning  his  soul  into  the 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES. 


341 


hands  of  his  Maker.  Never  does  his 
faith  seem  to  me  so  signal,  so  sorely 
tried,  nor  so  finely  triumphant.  I  gaze 
on  him  with  awe,  as,  with  the  rod  of 
God  in  his  hand,  he  stands  before  Pha- 
raoh, and  appals  the  proud  monarch  by 
the  prodigies  which  he  works.  And 
there  is  a  fearful  magnificence  in  his 
aspect,  as,  with  outstretched  arm,  he 
plants  himself  on  the  Red  Sea's  shore, 
and  bids  its  waters  divide,  that  the 
thousands  of  Israel  may  march  through 
on  dry  land.  Yea,  and  who  can  look 
on  him  without  emotions  of  wonder, 
and  almost  of  dread,  as  he  ascends 
Mount  Sinai,  whilst  the  fire  and  thun- 
der of  the  Lord  strike  terror  into  the 
hearts  of  the  congregation,  that  he  may 
commune  in  secret  with  God,  and  re- 
ceive from  his  lips  enactments  and  stat- 
utes 1  But,  on  these  and  the  like  occa- 
sions, the  very  circumstances  in  which 
he  was  placed  were  calculated  to  ani- 
mate the  leader  ;  and  when  we  think 
on  the  mighty  powers  with  which  he 
was  endowed,  we  can  scarce  feel  sur- 
prise that  he  should  have  borne  him- 
self so  heroically.  The  great  trial  of 
faith  was  not  in  the  waving  or  striking 
with  a  rod  which  had  often  shown  its 
mastery  over  nature  :  neither  was  it  in 
the  ascending  a  mountain,  from  which 
he  expected  to  return  with  fit  laws  for 
the  government  of  a  turbulent  multi- 
tude. It  was  the  laying  down  of  the 
miraculous  rod  which  required  vast 
faith  ;  and  the  splendid  courage  was 
shown  in  the  climbing  a  summit,  where, 
with  the  rock  for  his  couch,  and  the 
broad  heaven  for  his  roof,  and  far  from 
all  human  companionship,  he  was  to 
submit  himself  to  the  sentence,  '"  Dust 
thou  art,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt  re- 
turn." 

And  therefore,  we  again  say,  that,  if 
we  would  survey  Moses  in  his  gran- 
deur, when  his  moral  majesty  is  most 
conspicuous,  and  the  faith  and  boldness 
of  a  true  servant  of  God  commend 
themselves  most  to  our  imitation,  then 
it  is  not  when  he  breaks  the  chains  of 
a  long-enslaved  people,  and  not  when 
he  conducts  a  swarming  multitude 
through  the  wilderness,  and  not  when 
he  is  admitted  into  intimate  commun- 
ings with  the  Almighty,  that  he  should 
fix  our  attention — it  is  rather  when  he 
departs  from  the  camp  without  a  soli- 
tary attendant,  and  we  know  that,  as 


he  climbs  the  steep  ascent,  perhaps 
pausing  at  times  that  he  may  look  yet 
again  on  the  people  whom,  notwith- 
standing their  ingratitude,  he  tenderly 
loved,  he  is  obeying  the  strange  and 
thrilling  command,  "Get  thee  up  into 
this  mountain,  and  there  die,  and  be 
gathered  to  thy  people." 

We  cannot  follow  Moses  in  this  his 
mysterious  journey.  We  know  not  the 
particulars  of  what  occurred  on  the 
summit  of  Pisgah;  and  where  revela- 
tion is  silent,  it  does  not  become  us  to 
offer  conjectures.  We  are  only  inform- 
ed that  the  Lord  showed  him  great  part 
of  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  then  said 
unto  him,  "I  have  caused  thee  to  see 
it  with  thine  eyes,  but  thou  shalt  not 
go  over  thither."  And  here,  just  where 
curiosity  is  most  strongly  excited — for 
who  does  not  long  to  know  the  exact 
mode  in  which  Moses  departed  out  of 
life,  to  be  present  at  his  last  scene,  and 
observe  his  dismissal? — the  narrative  is 
closed  with  the  simple  announcement, 
'*  So  Moses  the  servant  of  the  Lord  died 
there  in  the  land  of  Moab,  according  to 
the  word  of  the  Lord."  But  we  know, 
at  least,  that  God  was  with  his  servant 
in  this  hour  of  strangeness  and  loneli- 
ness, and  that,  when  Moses  lay  down 
to  die,  he  had  been  abundantly  cheered 
by  visions  vouchsafed  him  of  the  long- 
promised  Canaan.  And  shall  we  think 
that  Moses  died  contented  and  happy, 
just  because  his  eye  had  rested  on  the 
waters  of  Jordan,  and  caught  the  wav- 
ings  of  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  1  Was  it 
merely  by  gazing  on  the  natural  land- 
scape that  the  man  of  God  was  cheer- 
ed ;  and  was  nothing  done  for  him  but 
the  causing  valleys  that  laughed  with 
abundance,  and  heights  that  were  crest- 
ed with  beauty,  to  gather  themselves 
into  one  glorious  panorama,  as  the  in- 
heritance which  had  been  promised  to 
the  children  of  Abraham  1  We  can 
scarcely  think  this.  We  may  believe 
that  the  desire  of  Moses  to  enter  into 
Canaan  was  a  spiritual  desire  :  with 
Canaan  he  associated  a  fuller  revela- 
tion of  the  Christ:  and  he  may  have 
thought,  that,  admitted  into  the  land, 
which  in  the  fulness  of  time  would  be 
trodden  by  Messiah,  he  should  learn 
more  of  that  Redeemer  of  the  world 
than  he  had  been  able  to  gather  from 
existing  prophecies  and  types. 

In  his  own  prayer  to  God,  depreca- 


342 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES. 


ting  the  sentence  which  his  impatience 
and  unbelief  had  provoked,  he  spake  as 
though  there  were  one  spot  which  he 
specially  wished  to  be  permitted  to  be- 
hold. "  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  over,  and 
see  the  good  land  that  is  beyond  Jor- 
dan, that  goodly  mountain,  and  Leba- 
non." "  That  goodly  mountain  " — were 
his  thoughts  on  Mount  Moriah,  where 
Abraham  had  offered  up  Isaac,  and 
which  was  to  be  the  scene  of  a  sacri- 
fice of  which  this  had  been  only  a  fi- 
gure "?  Was  it  Zion  on  which  he  was 
eager  to  gaze,  as  knowing,  that,  on  a 
far  distant  day,  it  would  be  hallowed 
by  the  footsteps,  and  witness  the  sor- 
rows of  the  prophet,  whose  coming  he 
had  himself  been  commissioned  to  fore- 
tein  Indeed,  we  again  say,  we  can 
hardly  think  that  it  was  simply  the 
wish  of  beholding  the  rich  landscape 
of  Canaan,  its  fountains  and  brooks, 
and  olives  and  vines,  which  actuated 
Moses  when  imploring  permission  to 
pass  over  Jordan.  He  knew  that  in  this 
land  was  to  be  accomplished  the  origi- 
nal promise  ;  that  there  was  the  seed 
of  the  woman  to  bruise  the  serpent's 
head.  He  knew  that  in  this  land  would 
that  Deliverer  appear  for  whom  patri- 
archs had  longed,  and  of  whom  he  was 
himself  a  signal  type — the  Deliverer  in 
whom  he  felt  that  all  his  hopes  centred, 
but  whose  office  and  person  could  be 
only  feebly  learned  from  revelations  al- 
ready vouchsafed.  And  why  may  it  not 
have  been,  that  Moses  longed  to  tread 
Canaan,  because  his  mind  already  peo- 
pled it  with  the  august  occurrences  of 
coming  agesl  even  as  to  ourselves 
would  Palestine  be  a  scene  of  surpass- 
ing interest,  not  because  its  mountains 
may  be  noble,  and  its  valleys  lovely ; 
but  because  haunted  by  the  memory  of 
all  that  is  precious  to  a  christian,  be- 
cause every  breeze  would  there  seem 
to  us  to  waft  the  words  of  Christ,  and 
every  flower  to  be  nurtured  with  his 
blood,  and  every  spot  to  be  hallowed 
by  his  presence  %  To  Moses  it  must 
have  been  through  anticipated,  where- 
as to  us  it  would  be  through  remem- 
bered events,  that  the  land  of  Judea 
might  thus  preach  by  its  every  hill, 
and  fountain,  and  tree.  But  the  trains 
and  processions  of  prophecy  were  as 
splendid,  though  not  as  distinct,  as  are 
now  those  of  history ;  and  if  the  law- 
giver, privileged  to  search  into  the  fu- 


ture, and  behold  in  mystic  shadows  the 
redemption  of  humankind,  could  not 
associate,  as  we  ourselves  can,  various 
scenes  with  the  various  transactions  in 
which  sinners  have  interest,  he  might 
at  least  connect  the  whole  land  of  Ca- 
naan with  the  promised  rescue  of  our 
race,  and  regard  all  its  spread ings  as 
"  holy  ground,"  like  that  which  sur- 
rounded the  burning  bush  in  Horeb. 
And  as  we  ourselves,  carrying  with  us 
the  remembrance  of  all  that  was  done 
"  for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation," 
might  feel  that  to  visit  Judea  would  be 
to  strengthen  our  faith  and  warm  our 
piety — seeing  that  dead  indeed  must 
be  the  heart  which  would  not  beat 
higher  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane, 
and  on  the  mount  of  Calvary — so  may 
Moses,  borne  onward  by  the  prophetic 
impulse,  have  felt  that  it  would  be  to 
awaken  loftier  emotions,  and  obtain 
clearer  views,  to  enter  and  w^alk  the 
land  which  was  finally  to  be  consecra- 
ted by  the  presence  of  the  Shiloh. 

For  this  it  may  have  been  that  the 
lawgiver  so  intently  longed  to  pass  the 
Jordan.  And  when  he  stood  on  the 
summit  of  Pisgah,  and  God  showed 
him  the  land,  it  may  have  been  by  the 
revelation  of  mysteries,  which  he  had 
ardently  desired  to  penetrate,  that  his 
spirit  was  cheered,  and  death  stripped 
of  all  terror.  He  looked  from  the 
mountain-top  o'er  many  a  luxuriant 
scene  ;  but  as  plain,  and  vineyard,  and 
town,  and  river,  were  made  to  pass  be- 
fore his  view,  God,  who  is  expressly 
declared  to  have  been  with  him  to  in- 
struct him,  may  have  taught  him  how 
each  spot  would  be  associated  with  the 
great  work  of  human  deliverance.  His 
eye  is  upon  Bethlehem  ;  but,  lo,  alrea- 
dy a  mystic  star  hangs  over  the  solita- 
ry village;  and  he  learns  something  of 
the  force  of  the  prediction  which  him- 
self had  recorded,  '*  There  shall  come 
a  star  out  of  Jacob,  and  a  sceptre  shall 
rise  out  of  Israel."  The  waters  of  a 
lake  are  heaving  beneath  him;  but,  lo, 
a  human  form  is  walking  the  agitated 
surface ;  and  he  is  taught  that  as  No- 
ah, whose  history  he  had  related,  was 
sheltered  in  the  ark,  so  shall  all,  who 
will  turn  from  iniquity,  find  safety  in  a 
Being  whom  no  storms  can  overwhelm, 
and  no  waves  ingulph.  And  now  a 
mountain  is  seen,  but  not  lit  up,  as 
the  panorama  had  hitherto  been,    by 


THE    DEATH    OF    MOSES. 


343 


ihe  joyous   shillings  of  the  sun  ;  aw- 
ful clouds  hang  around  it  and  over  it, 
as  though  it  were  the  scene  of  sonne 
tragedy  which  nature  shrank  from  be- 
holding.    This   rivets   the    lawgiver's 
gaze;   it  is   the    "goodly   mountain" 
which   he  had  prayed  that  he  might 
see.     And   there   is  a  cross  upon  its  j 
summit ;  greater  than   Isaac  is  bound 
to  the  altar ;  the  being,  whom  he  had  j 
seen  upon  the  waters,  is   expiring   in  I 
ugony.    The  transactions  of  the  great  i 
day  of  atonement  are  thus  explained ;  j 
the  mystery  of  the  scape-goat  is  un- 
folded ;  and  Moses,  taught  the  mean- 
ing of  types  which  himself  had   been 
directed   to   institute,  is  ready  to  ex- 
claim, "  Lord,  now    lettest   thou   thy 
servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  thy  salvation." 

Thus  it  may  have  been,  that,  ere 
j\Ioses  departed  out  of  life,  God  not 
only  showed  him  the  promised  land, 
J)ut  made  it  a  kind  of  parable  of  re- 
demption. And,  on  this  supposition, 
we  may  well  understand  why  Moses 
was  so  eager  to  see  Canaan  before  he 
<iied,  and  why  the  sight  should  have 
been  instrumental  to  the  making  him 
die  happy.  Yes,  I  cannot  but  feel,  as  I 
follow  Moses  in  thought  to  the  sum- 
mit of  Pisgah,  that  the  man  of  God 
does  not  climb  that  eminence,  merely 
that  he  may  gladden  his  eye  with  a 
glorious  developement  of  scenery,  and 
satisfy  himself,  by  actual  inspection,  of 
the  goodliness  of  the  heritage  which  Is- 
rael was  about  to  possess.  And  when  I 
lind  that  God  himself  was  with  this 
greatest  of  prophets,  to  assist  his  vis- 
ion and  inform  him  as  to  the  territo- 
ry which  lay  beneath  his  feet,  I  cannot 
think  that  the  divine  communication 
referred  only  to  the  names  of  cities, 
and  the  boundaries  of  tribes.  Rather 
must  I  believe  that  what  Moses  sought, 
and  God  vouchsafed,  was  fuller  know- 
ledge of  all  that  would  be  wrought  in 
Canaan  for  the  pardon  of  sin;  that,  as 
Bethlehem,  and  Nazareth,  and  Tabor, 
and  Zion,  graved  themselves  on  the 
picture,  it  was  their  association  with 
the  promised  Messiah  which  gave  them 
interest  in  the  eye  of  the  delighted 
spectator;  and  that,  therefore,  it  was 
literally  to  prepare  Moses  for  death, 
by  showing  him  "the  Resurrection  and 
the  Life,"  that  God  spake  unto  him, 
saying,  "Get  thee  up  into  this  moun- 


tain, and  behold  the  land  of  Canaan, 
and  die  there,  and  be  gathered  unto 
thy  fathers." 

And  there  did  Moses  die  ;  his  spirit 
entered  into  the  separate  state,  and  no 
human  friends  were  near  to  do  the  last 
honors  to  his  remains.    But  God  would 
not  desert  the  body,  any  more  than  the 
soul  of  his  servant  ;  both  were  his  by 
creation,   and    both   were    to    become 
doubly  his  by  redemption.    It  is  there- 
fore added  to  the  strange  narrative — 
and  perhaps  it  is  the  strangest  fact  of 
all — that  "  he  buried  him  in  a  valley  in 
the  land  of  Moab,   over  against  Beth- 
peor;  but  no  man  knoweth  of  his  se- 
pulchre   unto    this    day."     Wonderful 
entombment !  no  mortal  hands  dug  the 
grave,  no  mortal  voices  chanted  the 
requiem;  but  angels,  " ministering  spi- 
rits," who  are  appointed  to  attend  on 
the  heirs  of  salvation,  composed  the 
limbs,  and  prepared  the  sepulchre.  We 
refer  to  angels  this  performance  of  the 
last  rites  to  the  departed  prophet,  be- 
cause it  appears  from  another,  though 
obscure,  passage  of  Scripture,  that  an- 
gels were  in  some  way  the  keepers  of 
the  body  ;  for  we  read,  in  the  General 
Epistle  of  Jude,  of  "  Michael  the  arch- 
angel, when  contending  with  the  devil, 
he  disputed  about  the  body  of  Moses." 
Why  this  special  mystery  and  careful- 
ness in  regard  of  the  body  of  Moses  1 
It  has  been  supposed,  that  prone  as  thei 
Israelites  were  to  idolatry,  they  might 
have  been   tempted,   had  they  known 
the  sepulchre  of  their  great  lawgiver, 
to  make  it  the  scene  of  superstitious 
observances.    But  this  seems  at  least 
an  insufficient  supposition,  more  espe- 
cially since  the  place  of  burial,  though 
not  the  exact  spot,  was  tolerably  de- 
fined, "  a  valley  in  the  land  of  Moab, 
over  against  Bethpeor  ;"  quite  defined 
enough  for  superstition,  had  there  been 
any  wish  to  give  idolatrous  honors  to 
the  remains  of  the  dead. 

But  you  will  all  remember  that  Mo- 
ses, though  he  must  die  before  enter- 
ing Canaan,  was  to  rise,  and  appear  in 
that  land,  ages  before  the  general  re- 
surrection. When  Christ  was  transfigu- 
red on  Mount  Tabor,  who  were  those 
shining  forms  that  stood  by  him,  and 
"  spake  of  the  decease  which  he  should 
accomplish  at  Jerusalem?"  Who  but 
Elias  and  Moses — Elias,  who  had  been 
translated  without  seeing  death,  so  that 


344 


THE    DSAXn    OF    MOSES. 


he  had  entered,  body  and  soul,  into 
heaven  ;  and  Moses,  who  had  indeed 
died,  the  soul  having  been  separated 
from  the  body,  but  whose  body  had 
been  committed  to  angelic  guardian- 
ship, as  though  in  order  that  it  might 
be  ready  to  take  part  in  the  brilliant 
transaction  upon  Tabor  1  The  body, 
which  had  been  left  upon  Pisgah,  reap- 
peared upon  Tabor;  and  evidence  was 
given,  that  those  who  lie  for  ages  in 
the  grave,  shall  be  as  glorious,  at  the 
second  coming  of  Christ,  as  those  who 
are  to  be  changed  ''  in  a  moment,  in 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye."  Moses  was 
the  representative  of  the  myriads  who 
shall  rise  from  the  grave  ;  Elias,  of 
those,  who,  found  alive  upon  the  earth, 
shall  be  transformed  without  seeing 
death  ;  and  forasmuch  as  the  represen- 
tatives appeared  in  equal  splendor,  so 
also,  we  believe,  shall  the  quick  and 
dead,  when  all  that  was  typified  by  the 
transfiguration  shall  be  accomplished 
in  the  preliminaries  to  the  general 
judgment. 

But  we  have  no  space  to  enlarge 
upon  this.  We  must  pass  from  the 
mysterious  death  and  burial  of  Moses, 
and  ask  you  whether  you  do  not  see 
that  there  are  great  spiritual  lessons  in 
the  series  of  events  which  we  have 
briefly  reviewed  !  We  need  not  tell 
you  that  the  captivity  of  Israel  in 
Egypt  was  a  striking  representation  of 
the  moral  condition  of  the  whole  hu- 
man race,  as  sold  by  sin  into  the  ser- 
vice of  a  task-master.  And  when  the 
chains  of  the  people  were  broken,  and 
God  brought  them  forth  "  by  a  mighty 
hand,  and  a  stretched  out  arm,"  the 
whole  transaction  was  eminently  ty- 
pical of  our  own  emancipation  from 
bondage.  But  why  might  not  Moses, 
who  had  commenced,  be  allowed  to 
complete  the  great  work  of  deliver- 
ance 1  Why,  after  bringing  the  people 
out  of  Egypt,  might  he  not  settle  them 
in  Canaan?  Why,  except  that  Moses 
was  but  the  representative  of  the  law, 
and  that  the  law,  of  itself,  can  never 
lead  us  into  heavenly  places  1  The  law 
is  as  ''a  schoolmaster,  to  bring  us  unto 
Christ;"  it  may  discipline  us  during 
our  Avanderings  in  the  wilderness;  but 
if,  when  we  reach  the  JcrJan,  there 
were  no  Joshua,  no  Jesus — for  the 
names  are  the  same — to  undertake  to 
be  our  guide,  we  could  never  go  over 


'  and  possess  that  good  land  which  God 
hath  prepared  for  his  people.  There- 
fore, we  may  believe,  was  it  appointed 
that  there  should  be  a  change  of  lead- 
ers, that  all  may  know,  that,  if  the  law, 
acting  through  terrors,  bring  a  man 
out  of  the  slavery  of  sin,  it  is  only  the 
Gospel,  rich  in  merciful  provision, 
which  can  open  for  him  an  entrance 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Moses 
was  commanded  to  resign  the  people 
to  Joshua:  "The  very  acts  of  God," 
says  Bishop  Hall,  "  were  allegories ; 
Avhere  the  law  ends,  there  the  Savior 
begins;  we  may  see  the  land  of  pro- 
mise in  the  law;  only  Jesus,  the  Me- 
diator of  the  New  Testament,  can 
bring  us  into  it." 

Thus  does  Moses  instruct  us,  by  his 
death,  to  whom  to  look  for  admission 
into  the  heavenly  Canaan.  He  instructs 
us  moreover  as  to  how  we  must  be  pla- 
ced, if  our  last  hours  are  to  be  those  of 
hope  and  peace.  We  must  die  on  the 
summit  of  Pisgah  :  we  must  die  with 
our  eye  upon  Bethlehem,  upon  Geth- 
semane,  upon  Calvary.  It  was  not,  as 
we  have  ventured  to  suppose,  the  glo- 
riousness  of  the  Canaanitish  landscape 
which  satisfied  the  dying  leader,  and 
nerved  him  for  departure.  It  was  ra- 
ther his  view  of  the  Being  by  whom 
that  landscape  would  be  trodden,  and 
who  would  sanctify  its  scenes  by  his 
tears  and  his  blood.  And,  in  like  man- 
ner, when  a  christian  comes  to  die,  it 
is  not  so  much  by  views  of  the  majes- 
tic spreadings  of  the  paradise  of  God, 
of  the  rollings  of  the  crystal  river,  and 
of  the  sparklings  of  the  golden  streets, 
that  he  must  look  to  be  comforted;  his 
eye,  with  that  of  Moses,  must  be  upon 
the  manger,  the  garden,  and  the  cross; 
and  thus,  fixing  his  every  hope  on  his 
Forerunner,  he  may  be  confident  that 
an  entrance  shall  be  ministered  ''unto 
him  abundantly,  into  the  kingdom 
"prepared  from 'the  foundation  of  the 
world."  "Get  thee  up  into  this  moun- 
tain, and  die  there."  0  that  we  may 
all  be  living  in  such  a  state  of  prepar- 
edness for  death,  that,  when  summon- 
ed to  depart  we  may  ascend  the  sum- 
mit, whence  faith  looks  forth  on  all 
that  Jesus  hath  suffered  and  done,  and, 
exclaiming,  "  we  have  waited  for  thy 
salvation,  O  Lord,"  lie  down  with  Mo- 
ses on  Pisgah,  to  awake  with  Moses  in 
paradise. 


,  THE    ASCE^'SION    OP    CHRIST. 


345 


SERMON    VII. 


THE    ASCENSION    OF    CHRIST. 


"  Lift  up  your  lieaJs,  0  ye  gates  ;*  and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  glory  shall 
come  in.  Who  is  this  King  of  glory  /  The  Lord  strong  and  mighty,  the  Lord  mighly  in  battle."—- 
Psalm  24  :  7,  3. 


We  hardly  know  how  it  has  come  to 
pass,  that  comparatively  but  little  at- 
tention is  given  to  the  great  fact  of 
Christ's  ascension  into  heaven.  Christ- 
inas-day, Good-Friday,  and  Easter-day, 
are  universally  observed  by  members 
of  our  church;  but  Holy  Thursday  is 
scarcely  known,  even  by  name,  to  the 
great  mass  of  christians.  The  church 
evidently  designed  to  attach  as  much 
importance  to  that  day  as  to  the  others, 
having  appointed  proper  psalms  as  well 
as  lessons,  and  furnished  a  sacramental 
preface.  We  have  come,  however,  to 
the  neglecting  this  ordinance  of  the 
church,  so  that,  whilst  we  statedly  as- 
semble to  commemorate  the  birth, 
death,  and  resurrection  of  our  Lord, 
we  have  no  solemn  gathering  in  cele- 
bration of  his  ascension.  And  if  this 
have  not  arisen  from  men's  attaching 
too  little  importance  to  the  ascension, 
it  is,  at  least,  likely  to  lead  to  their 
thinking  less  of  that  event  than  it  de- 
serves, or  than  is  required  for  it  by  the 
church.  On  this  account,  forasmuch 
as  we  have  just  passed  Holy  Thurs- 
day, we  think  it  well  to  direct  your  at- 
tention to  the  closing  scene  of  Christ's 
sojourn  upon  earth,  so  that,  having 
stood  round  his  cradle,  followed  him 
to  Calvary,  and  seen  him  burst  from 
the  grave,  we  may  complete  the  wond- 
rous contemplation  by  gazing  upon  him 
as  he  soars  from  Mount  Olivet.  Of 
course  it  will  not  be  the  mere  histori- 
cal fact  on  which  we  shall  enlarge  :  for 
we  may  assume  that  you  require  no  | 
evidence,  that,  as  Jesus  died  and  re- 1 
vived,  so  did  he  return  in  human  na-  \ 
lure  to  the  heaven  whence  he  had  de- 


scended, and  take  his  seat  at  the  right 
hand  of  God.  But  as,  in  discoursing  on 
the  resurrection  of  Christ,  we  strive  to 
show  you  our  personal  interest  in  that 
event",  arguing  our  own  resurrection 
from  that  of  our  Head  ;  so  will  we  en- 
deavor, in  discoursing  on  the  ascension, 
to  consider  the  occurrence  in  its  bear- 
ings on  ourselves :  for  such  bearings 
undoubtedly  there  are,  seeing  that  St. 
Paul  declares  to  the  Ephesians,  that 
God  "hath  quickened  us  together  ^vitli 
Christ,  and  hath  raised  us  up  together, 
and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly- 
places  in  Christ  Jesus." 

It  is  generally  admitted,  by  exposi- 
tors of  the  writings  of  David,  that  the 
words  of  our  text  have  a  secondary,  if 
not  a  primary,  reference  to  the  return 
of  the  Mediator  to  heaven,  when  he  had 
accomplished  the  work  of  human  re- 
demption. By  many,  the  Psalm,  of 
which  our  text  is  a  part,  is  supposed  to 
have  been  written  and  sung  on  occa- 
sion of  the  removal  of  the  ark  by  Da- 
vid to  Jerusalem ;  it  may  have  been 
also  employed  when  that  ark  was  car- 
ried into  the  magnificent  temple  which 
Solomon  had  reared.  The  Levites  may 
be  regarded  as  approaching  in  solemn 
procession,  bearing  the  sacred  deposi- 
tory of  sacramental  treasures.  As  they 
approach  the  massive  gates,  they  claim 
admission  for  the  King  of  glory,  who 
was  perpetually  to  dwell  between  the 
cherubim  that  should  overshadow  the 
ark.  "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates, 
and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors, 
and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in." 
The  keepers  of  the  gates  are  supposed 
to  hear  the  summons,  and  they  demand 
4-4 


546 


THE    ASCENSION    OF    CHRIST. 


from  within,  "  Who  is  this  King  of  o-lo- 
ry  I"  The  answer  is,  "  The  Lord  strong 
and  mighty,  the  Lord  mighty  in  bat- 
tle :"  and  then  we  are  to  imagine  the 
ponderous  gates  thrown  open,  and  the 
gorgeous  throng  of  priests  and  Levites 
pressing  towards  the  recesses  of  the 
sanctuary. 

But  if  such  were  the  transaction  to 
which  the  Psalm  originally  referred, 
it  may  well  be  regarded  as  typical ; 
whilst  certain  of  the  expressions,  such 
as  "  ye  everlasting  doors,"  seem  evi- 
dently to  belong  to  no  earthly  house, 
however  sumptuous  and  solid.  In  short, 
as  Bishop  Horsley  affirms,  the  Jehovah 
of  this  psalm  must  be  Christ ;  and  the 
entrance  of  the  Redeemer  into  the 
kingdom  of  his  Father  is  the  event 
prophetically  announced.  The  passage 
is  very  sublime,  when  thus  interpreted 
and  applied.*  You  are  to  consider  the 
Mediator  as  ascending  towards  heaven, 
attended  by  a  multitude  of  the  celes- 
tial host.  The  surrounding  angels  min- 
gle their  voices  in  a  chorus,  which 
summons  their  glorious  compeers,  who 
are  within  the  heavenly  city,  to  open 
wide  the  gates,  that  the  triumphant  Sa- 
vior may  enter.  The  angels  within  the 
city  may  be  regarded  as  thronging  to 
its  walls,  wondering  who  this  could  be 
that  approached  in  human  form,  and 
yet  claimed  admission  into  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  God.  They  ask  the 
name  of  the  ascending  man,  for  whom 
was  demanded  entrance  to  their  own 
bright  abode.  The  answer  is  a  refer- 
ence to  his  achievements  upon  earth, 
where  he  had  "  spoiled  principalities 
and  powers,"  and  "  made  a  show  of 
them  openly."  "  The  Lord  strong  and 
mighty,  the  Lord  mighty  in  battle." 
And  then  you  are  to  suppose  the  ever- 
lasting doors  to  revolve,  and  that,  amid 
the  enraptured  adorations  of  the  whole 
celestial  hierarchy,  he  who  had  been 
"  a  man  of  sorrows,"  and  who  "  bare 
our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree," 
advances  to  the  throne  of  God,  and 
takes  his  seat  there  as  "Head  over  all 
things  to  the  Church." 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  our  text 
may  be  applied  to  the  great  event  with 
Avhich  we  now  propose  to  engage  your 
attention.  And  if  angels,  for  whom 
Jesus  did  not  die,  and  whose  battle  he 


See  Bishop  Honic. 


had  not  fought,  may  be  considered  as 
exultingly  requiring  his  admission  into 
the  heavenly  city,  shall  men  be  silent, 
men  for  whom  he  had  suffered,  men  for 
whom  he  was  about  to  intercede  1  Ra- 
ther let  us  take  on  our  own  lips  the 
summons  to  the  gates  and  everlasting 
doors;  and,  as  we  stand  with  the  Apos- 
tles, gazing  upwards  at  the  ascending 
Savior,  let  us  exclaim,  in  a  voice  of 
gladness  and  triumph,  "  Lift  up  your 
heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lift  up,  yc 
everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  jjlo- 
ry  shall  come  in. 

What,  yoii  will  say,  are  we  to  re- 
joice in  the  departure  of  our  Lord  from 
his  Church"?  It  may  well  be  understood 
why  angels  should  utter  the  words  of 
our  text.  Angels  were  delighted  at  the 
return  of  that  Divine  Person,  who  had 
emptied  himself  of  his  glories,  and 
withdrawn  himself  for  a  time,  so  far 
as  Deity  could  be  withdrawn,  from  the 
scene  where  he  had  been  wont  to  show 
them  his  greatness.  To  angels,  there- 
fore, the  ascension  Avas  indeed  cause 
of  lofty  gratulation  5  we  might  well  ex- 
pect them  to  manifest  their  gladness, 
to  throng  joyously  round  the  return- 
ing Redeemer,  and  to  usher  him,  with 
every  token  of  exultation,  into  the 
house  of  his  Father.  But  assuredly  the 
case  is  very  different  with  us.  The  as- 
cension of  Christ  was  his  withdraw- 
ment  from  all  visible  intercourse  with 
his  church;  that  church  has  ever  since 
been  in  comparative  widowhood;  and 
the  return  of  her  Lord  is  the  grand 
event  with  which  she  is  taught  to  as- 
sociate what  will  be  most  brilliant  in 
her  portion.  Must  we  then  be  glad  at 
the  departure  of  Christ ;  and,  as  though 
we  wished  him  to  be  hidden  from  our 
sight,  must  we  summon  the  gates  of 
the  heavenly  city,  and  bid  them  fly 
open  that  the  King  of  glory  may  enter  1 

It  is  in  the  answer  to  such  a  ques- 
tion as  this  that  we  shall  find  matter 
of  important  and  interesting  discourse. 
There  are  indeed  other  aspects  under 
which  the  ascension  ma}^  be  surveyed, 
and  furnish  to  our  contemplation  truths 
of  no  ordinary  kind.  But  the  great 
thing  for  our  consideration,  is,  the  per- 
sonal interest  which  A^e  ourselves  have 
in  the  ascension  of  Christ,  the  cause 
which  that  event  furnishes  for  our  grati- 
tude and  rejoicing.  To  this,  therefore, 
we  shall  strictly  confine  ourselves ;  so 


THE    ASCENSION    OF    CHKIST. 


347 


that  the  object  of  the  remainder  of  our 
discourse  is  simple  and  definite :  we 
have  to  search  out,  and  set  before  you, 
reasons,  from  which  it  may  appear  that 
we  are  bound  to  exult  in  the  ascension 
of  our  Lord  ;  or  which,  in  other  words, 
might  justify  our  joining  in  the  sum- 
mons, "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates, 
and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors." 
Now  let  us  just  suppose  that  Christ 
had  not  been  exalted  to  the  right  hand 
of  God,  and  let  us  see  whether  the 
supposition  would  not  materially  affect 
our  spiritual  condition.  We  know  that 
Christ  had  taken  our  nature  into  union 
with  the  divine,  on  purpose  that  he 
might  effect  its  reconciliation  to  God. 
In  order  to  this,  it  was  necessary  that 
he  should  suffer  and  die;  for  the  claims 
of  justice  on  the  sinful  could  not,  so 
far  as  we  know,  have  been  otherwise 
satisfied.  And  he  willingly  submitted 
to  the  endurance  :  "  being  found  in  fa- 
shion as  a  man,  he  humbled  himself, 
and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even 
the  death  of  the  cross."  But  there  was 
a  virtue  in  this  death,  which  made  it 
expiatory  of  the  sins  of  the  world  ;  so 
that  when  the  Redeemer  had  breathed 
his  soul  into  the  hands  of  his  Father, 
the  offending  nature  was  reconciled, 
and  the  human  race  placed  within  reach 
of  forgiveness.  Accordingly,  it  was  just- 
ly to  be  (^xpected  that  the  resurrec- 
tion would  quickly  follow  the  crucifix- 
ion of  Christ :  for  justice  could  not  de- 
tain our  surety  in  the  grave,  when  the 
claims,  which  he  had  taken  on  himself, 
were  discharged.  Hence  the  resurrec- 
tion of  Christ  was  both  the  proof  and 
consequence  of  the  completeness  of 
his  mediatorial  work :  he  could  not 
have  risen  had  he  not  exhausted  the 
penalty  incurred  by  humankind ;  and, 
when  he  rose,  God  may  be  said  to  have 
proclaimed  to  the  universe  the  suffi- 
ciency of  the  sacrifice,  and  his  accept- 
ance of  it  as  an  atonement  for  the  sins 
of  the  world.  If  Christ  had  remained 
in  the  grave,  and  his  flesh  had  seen 
corruption,  we  could  only  have  regard- 
ed him  as  a  man  like  one  of  ourselves  ; 
at  least,  we  could  never  have  regarded 
him  as  a  substitute,  whose  vicarious 
endurances  had  been  effectual  on  our 
behalf;  for  so  long  as  he  had  been  still 
"  holden  of  death,"  we  must  have  felt 
that  he  was  a  debtor  to  justice,  and 
that,   therefore,   those    whom   he   re- 


presented could  not  have  been  freed. 
But  was  it  enough  that  the  Mediator 
should  be  quickly  released  from  the 
grave,  and  that  our  nature  should  be 
thereby  pronounced  capable  of  the  for- 
giveness and  favor  of  its  Maker  1  It  is 
here  that  we  have  to  make  our  suppo- 
sition, that  the  resurrection  had  not 
been  followed  by  the  ascension  of 
Christ.  It  is  sufficiently  easy  to  certi- 
fy ourselves  of  the  indispensableness 
of  the  resurrection  ;  for  we  see  at  once 
the  force  of  the  distinction  drawn  by 
St.  Paul,  that  Christ  was  "  delivered  for 
our  offences,"  but  "  raised  again  for 
our  justification."  But  it  is  quite  an- 
other thing  to  certify  ourselves  of  the 
indispensableness  of  the  ascension  ; 
for,  when  our  justification  had  been 
completed,  might  not  the  risen  Media- 
tor have  remained  with  the  church, 
gladdening  it  perpetually  by  the  light 
of  his  presence  1  To  this  we  reply,  that 
the  reception  of  our  nature,  in  the  per- 
son of  our  surety,  into  heavenly  pla- 
ces, was  as  necessary  to  our  comfort 
and  assurance  as  its  deliverance  from 
the  power  of  the  grave.  We  ask  you 
only  to  remember,  that,  as  originally 
created,  man  moved  in  the  immediate 
presence  of  God-;  and  that  the  state 
from  which  he  fell  was  one  of  direct 
intercourse  and  blissful  communion 
with  his  Maker.  And  Christ  had  un- 
dertaken to  counteract  the  effects  of 
apostacy  ;  as  the  second  Adam,  he  en- 
gaged to  place  human  nature  in  the 
very  position  from  which  it  had  been 
withdrawn  by  the  first.  But  was  there 
any  demonstration  that  such  undertak- 
ing, such  engagement,  had  been  fully 
performed,  until  Christ  ascended  up  to 
heaven,  and  entered,  as  a  man,  into  the 
holy  place  1  So  long  as  he  remained 
on  earth,  there  was  no  evidence  that 
he  had  Avon  for  our  nature  re-admis- 
sion to  the  paradise  from  which  it  had 
been  exiled.  Whilst  he  "  went  about 
doing  good,"  and  preaching  the  Gos- 
pel of  the  kingdom,  that  nature  was 
still  under  the  original  curse,  for  the 
atoning  sacrifice  had  not  been  present- 
ed. Whilst  he  hung  on  the  cross,  that 
curse  was  in  the  act  of  being  exhaust- 
ed ;  and  when  he  came  forth  from  the 
tomb,  it  was  pronounced  to  be  whol- 
ly removed.  But  the  taking  away  the 
curse  was  not  necessarily  the  restoring 
the  nature  to  all  the  forfeited  privileges 


318 


THE    ASCE?fSION    OF    CHRIST. 


and  blessings :  it  was    the    rendering  j 
the  nature  no  longer  obnoxious  to  God's  < 
righteous  anger,  rather  than  the  rein-  j 
stating  it  in  God's  love  and  favor.    It  [ 
is  altogether  imaginable   that  enough  ! 
might  have  been  done   to   shield   the 
nature  from  punishment,  and  yet  not 
enough  to  place  it  in  happiness.    And 
what  we  contend  is,  that,  up  to   the 
moment  of  the  ascension,  no  evidence 
was  given  on  the  latter  point,  though 
there  was  abundance   on  the  former. 
The  whole  testimony  of  the  resurrec- 
tion was  a  testimony  to  the  exhaustion 
of  the  curse  ;  it  went  not  beyond  this; 
and  therefore  could  not  prove  that  the 
flaming  sword  of  the  cherub  was  sheath- 
ed, and  that  man  might  again  enter  the 
garden  of  the  Lord. 

And  if  Christ  had  never  returned,  in 
human  nature,  to  his  Father ;  if,  hav- 
ing been  delivered  from  the  grave,  he 
had  remained  upon  earth,  in  however 
glorious  a  character,  we  must  always 
have  feared  that  our  redemption  was 
incomplete,  and  that  we  had  not  been 
restored  to  the  forfeited  position.  For, 
whatsoever  Christ  did,  he  did  as  our 
representative ;  and  whatsoever  was 
awarded  to  him,  was  awarded  to  him 
as  our  representative.  We  are  reck- 
oned as  having  fulfilled  in  him  the 
righteousness,  and  endured  in  him  the 
penalties  of  the  law:  turn  to  Scrip- 
ture, and  you  find  that  we  were  cir- 
cumcised with  Christ,  that  with  him 
we  were  crucified,  with  him  buried, 
with  him  raised  up  ;  for  in  him  was 
our  nature  circumcised,  crucified,  bu- 
ried, and  raised  ;  and  what  was  done 
to  the  nature,  was  counted  as  done  to 
the  individuals  to  whom  that  nature 
mio'ht  belong.  Hence,  in  following 
Christ  up  to  his  resurrection,  we  fol- 
low our  nature  a  long  way  towards  full 
recovery  from  the  consequences  of 
apostacy  ;  but,  if  we  stop  at  the  resur- 
rection, we  do  not  reach  the  reinstate- 
ment of  that  nature  in  all  its  lost  ho- 
nors. In  order  to  this  we  must  have 
that  nature  received  into  the  paradise 
of  God,  and  there  made  partaker  of 
endless  felicity.  Christ,  raised  from 
the  dead,  and  remaining  always  upon 
earth,  would  only  have  assured  us  of 
deliverance  from  the  grave,  and  pro- 
tracted residence  on  this  globe :  we 
must  have  Christ  raised  from  the  dead, 
and  received  up  into  glory,  ere  we  can 


have  assurance  that  we  shall  spring^ 
from  the  dust  and  soar  into  God's  pre- 
sence. 

Are  we  not  then  borne  out  in  the 
assertion,  that  we  have  as  great  inter- 
est in  the  ascension  of  our  Lord,  as  in 
any  other  of  the  events  of  his  marvel- 
lous history;  and  that  it  would  be  al- 
most as  fatal  to  our  hopes,  to  prove, 
that,  having  been  raised,  he  had  never 
been  glorified,  as  to  prove,  that,  having 
been  slain,  he  had  never  been  raised  I 
In  each  case  there  would  be  a  stop- 
ping short  of  the  complete  counterac- 
tion of  the  consequences  of  apostacy  ; 
in  each  case,  that  is,  evidence  would 
be  wanting  that  the  Eedeemer  accom- 
plished what  he  undertook.  We  can 
go,  therefore,  with  the  disciples  to  the 
deserted  sepulchre  of  Jesus,  and  rejoice 
in  the  proof  that  "  his  soul  was  not  left 
in  hell,  neither  his  flesh  did  see  corrup- 
tion." We  triumph  in  the  resurrection 
of  our  Lord  ;  we  see  in  it  the  resurrec- 
tion of  our  nature  ;  and  we  expect,  with 
exultation,  a  moment  when  all  that  are 
in  the  grave  shall  hear  a  divine  voice, 
and  come  forth  indestructible.  But  we 
are  not,  we  cannot  be,  content  with 
this.  Our  thoughts  arc  upon  scenes 
which  man  traversed  in  his  innocence, 
or  rather  upon  scenes  of  which  these 
were  but  types.  We  remember  the  gar- 
den where  God  condescended  to  asso- 
ciate familiarly  with  his  creature;  and 
we  ask,  whether  the  decree  of  exile 
have  indeed  been  repealed,  and  whe- 
ther the  banished  nature  be  free  to  re- 
enter the  glorious  abode  1  If  so,  that 
nature  must  ascend  in  the  person  of 
our  representative  ;  we  are  still  chain- 
ed to  earth,  if  Christ,  as  our  forerun- 
ner, have  not  passed  into  the  heavens. 
What  then  1  shall  it  be  in  sorrow,  shall 
it  be  in  fear,  that  we  follow  the  Re- 
deemer to  Bethany,  when  about  to  de- 
part from  this  earth;  shall  we  wish  to 
detain  him  amongst  us,  as  though  sa- 
tisfied with  the  emancipation  of  our 
nature  from  the  power  of  death,  and 
not  desiring  its  admission  into  all  the 
splendors  of  immortality  1  Not  so,  an- 
gelic hosts,  ye  who  are  waiting  to  at- 
tend the  Mediator,  as  he  ascends  to  his 
Father.  We  know  and  feel  that  Christ 
must  depart  from  us,  if  he  have  indeed 
secured  our  entrance  to  the  bright 
land,  where  ye  behold  the  universal 
King.     And,   therefore,   we   will  join 


THE    ASCENSIOM    OF    CHEIST. 


349 


your  strain  ;  we  will  echo  your  melo- 
dy. Yes,  though  it  be  to  ask  that  he 
may  be  withdrawn  from  his  church, 
that  he  may  no  longer  be  amongst  us 
to  guide,  and  cheer,  and  control,  we 
too  will  pour  forth  the  summons, 
"  Lift  up  your  heads,  0  ye  gates,  and 
be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors, 
and  the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in." 

But  this  can  perhaps  hardly  be  said 
to  put  the  necessity  for  Christ's  exal- 
tation in  a  sufficiently  strong  light.  It 
certainly  appears,  from  our  foregoing 
reasoning,  that,  unless  the  resurrection 
had  been  followed  by  the  ascension  of 
our  Lord,  we  should  have  wanted  evi- 
dence of  the  restoration  of  our  nature 
to  the  dignity  and  happiness  which 
had  been  lost  by  transgression.  But 
this  evidence  is  furnished  by  the  sim- 
ple fact  of  the  ascension :  it  does  not 
seem  to  require  the  continued  absence 
of  Christ  from  his  church.  If  we  are  to 
join  the  angels  in  the  summons  of  our 
text,  we  must  be  supposed  to  feel  and 
express  joy  that  Christ  was  about  to 
make  his  dwelling  in  heavenly  places. 
Angels  exulted,  because  the  eternal 
Word  was  once  more  to  manifest  his 
presence  in  the  midst  of  their  abode, 
and  to  be  again  the  light  and  glory  of 
their  city.  But  why  should  we  share 
this  exultation  1  We  may  allow  it  to 
be  cause  of  rejoicing,  that  our  nature 
was  admitted,  in  the  person  of  Christ, 
into  the  presence  of  God  ;  but  we  seem 
to  need  nothing  beyond  this  :  if  Christ 
had  immediately  returned  to  his  church, 
we  should  have  had  the  same  assurance 
as  now  of  our  restoration  to  divine 
favor,  and  the  advantages,  in  addition, 
of  Christ's  personal  presence  with  his 
people. 

Now  we  do  not  deny,  that,  in  order 
to  our  joining  heartily  in  the  summons 
of  our  text,  it  is  necessary  that  we 
should  be  prepared  to  rejoice  in  the  ex- 
altation, as  well  as  in  the  ascension,  of 
our  Lord,  in  his  remaining  in  heavenly 
places,  as  well  as  in  his  departure  from 
earth.  We  must  take  into  account  the 
consequences  of  the  ascension,  as  well 
as  the  ascension  itself:  for  angels,  un- 
doubtedly, had  regard  to  these,  when 
manifesting  gladness  at  the  return  of 
God's  Son.  And  we  are  quite  ready  to 
carry  our  argument  to  the  length  thus 
supposed,  and  to  contend  that  we  have 
such  interest  in  the  exaltation  of  Christ, 


in  his  being  invested  with  glories  which 
require  his  separation  from  the  church, 
that  men  might  well  join  with  angels 
in  summoning  the  gates  of  the   celes- 
tial city  to  fly  open  for  his  admission. 
We  would  bring  to  your  recollection, 
that    God  had   covenanted   to    bestow 
great  honor  on  his  Son,  in  recompense 
of  the  work  of  our  redemption.    And 
though  it  be   true  that  this  honor  was 
chiefly  to  be  put  on  the  humanity  of 
the   Savior,    it    may   easily   be   shown 
that  some  portion  of  it  appertained  to 
the  divinity.    We   are,  of  course,  well 
aware    that    it    was    not    possible    for 
Christ,  as  God,  to  receive  additions  to 
his  essential  glory  ;  and,  accordingly, 
it  is  generally  concluded  that  the  glory 
conferred  on  him  at  his  exaltation,  was 
a  glory  which  devolved  exclusively  on 
his  manhood.    It  ought  however  to  be 
borne  in  mind,  that,  though  Christ  was 
the  eternal  Son  of  God,  equal  to  the 
Father  in  all  properties   and   preroga- 
tives of  Deity,  he  had  been  but  imper- 
fectly manifested  under  the  old  dispen- 
sation, so  that  he  received  not  the  ho- 
nors due  to  him  as   essentially  divine. 
You   can   hardly  say   that  the  second 
and  third  Persons  of  the  Trinity  were 
so  revealed,  before  the  coming  of  Christ, 
as  to  be  secure  of  the    reverence,  or 
worship,  to  which  they  have   right  as 
one  with  the  first.    We  are  now  indeed 
able  to  find  indications  in  the  Old  Tes- 
tament of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  : 
but  this  is  mainly  because  of  the  light 
which  is    thrown    on    its    pages    from 
those  of  the  New.    If  we  had  nothing 
but    the    Old   Testament,   if  we  were 
wholly  without    the    assistance    of   a 
fuller  revelation,  we  should   be  amply 
informed  as  to   the  unity   of  the  God- 
head, and  thus  be  secured  against  po- 
lytheism :  but  probably  we  should  have 
but  faint  apprehensions  of  a  Trinity  in 
the  Godhead,  and  be  unable  to  worship 
Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  as  the  eternal, 
indivisible,  Jehovah. 

Accordingly,  we  have  always  agreed 
with  those  who  would  argue,  that  the 
plan  of  redemption  was  constructed 
with  the  design  of  revealing  to  the 
world  the  Trinity  in  the  Godhead  ;  so 
that,  whilst  the  thing  done  should  be 
the  deliverance  of  our  race,  the  man- 
ner of  doing  it  might  involve  the  mani- 
festation of  those  Divine  Persons,  who 
had  heretofore  scarce  had  place  in  hu- 


350 


THE    ASCENSION    OP.  CHEIST. 


man  theology.*  It  was  a  fuller  dis- 
covery of  the  nature  of  God,  as  well 
as  the  complete  redemption  of  the  na- 
ture of  man,  which  was  contemplated 
in  the  arrangements  made  known  to 
us  by  the  Gospel;  the  Son  and  the 
Spirit  came  forth  from  the  obscurity 
in  which  they  had  been  heretofore 
veiled,  that  they  might  show  their  es- 
sential Deity  in  the  offices  assumed, 
and  establish  a  lasting  claim  to  our 
love  by  the  benefits  conferred.  And 
when  Christ,  in  that  prayer  to  his  Fa- 
ther which  occupies  the  seventeenth 
chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,  and  which 
was  offered  but  a  short  time  before  his 
crucifixion,  entreated  that  he  might  be 
glorified  with  a  glory  which  had  origi- 
nally been  his,  "And  now,  0  Father, 
glorify  thou  me  with  thine  own  self, 
with  the  glory  which  I  had  with  thee 
before  the  world  was,"  must  he  not 
have  referred  to  a  glory  appertaining 
to  his  divine  nature,  rather  than  to  his 
human"?  Whatever  the  glory  that  was 
about  to  descend  on  the  manhood,  it 
could  not  be  described  as  a  glory 
which  he  had  had  with  the  Father  be- 
fore the  world  was:  his  humanity  was 
not  then  in  being ;  and  we  know  not 
how  in  any  but  a  most  forced  sense, 
it  could  be  said  that  Christ  possessed, 
from  all  eternity,  the  glory  which  was 
to  be  given  to  the  humanity  not  then 
produced.  But  if  you  consider  our 
Lord  as  referring  to  his  divinity,  it  is 
not  difficult  to  understand  his  petition. 
From  everlasting  he  had  been  the  Son 
of  God  ;  and,  therefore,  there  had  be- 
longed to  him  an  immeasurable  glory, 
a  glory  of  which  no  creature  could 
partake,  inasmuch  as  it  was  derived 
from  his  being  essentially  divine.  But, 
though  essentially  divine,  he  had  not 
been  manifested  as  divine ;  and  hence 
the  glory,  which  had  appertained  to 
him  before  the  world  was,  had  not  yet 
become  conspicuous:  it  was  still,  at 
least,  partially  concealed ;  for  crea- 
tures had  not  yet  been  fully  taught 
that  they  were  to  "honor  the  Son, 
even  as  they  honor  the  Father."  .But 
now  he  was  on  the  point  of  being  ex- 
alted; and  his  prayer  was,  that  *he 
might  be  glorified  with  the  very  glory 
which  he  had  originally  possessed  ;  in 
other  words,  that  he  might  be  display- 

•  Waterland,  Bishop  BuU,  &c. 


ed  to  the  world  as  actually  divine,  and 
thus  might  be  openly,  what  he  had  all 
along  been  essentially,  glorious  with 
the  glories  of  absolute  Deity. 

And  you  must  all  confess  that  it  is 
a  great  point  with  us  as  christians,  a 
point  in  comparison  of  which  almost 
every  other  may  be  regarded  as  se- 
condary, that  the  essential  deity  of 
Christ  should  be  fully  demonstrated, 
and  that  there  should  be  nothing  to 
encourage  the  opinion  that  he  was  but 
a  creature,  however  loftily  endowed. 
But  suppose  that  Christ  had  remained 
with  us  upon  earth  ;  or  suppose,  that, 
having  ascended,  and  thus  proved  the 
completeness  of  the  redemption  of  our 
nature,  he  had  returned  to  abide  con- 
tinually with  his  church.  Would  the 
covenanted  recompense,  so  far  as  it 
consisted  in  the  manifestation  of  his 
deity,  have  then  been  bestowed  1  Could 
Christ's  equality  with  the  Father  have 
been  shown  convincingly  to  the  world, 
whilst  he  still  moved,  in  the  form  of  a 
man,  through  scenes  polluted  by  sin'? 
To  us  it  seems,  that,  under  such  a  dis- 
pensation as  the  present,  the  continued 
residence  of  the  Mediator  upon  earth 
would  practically  be  regarded  as  con- 
tradicting his  divinity.  The  question 
would  perpetually  be  asked,  whether 
this  being  could  indeed  be  essentially 
divine,  who  was  left,  century  after  cen- 
tury, in  a  state  of  humiliation  ]  for  it 
must  be  humiliation  for  Deity  to  dwell 
in  human  form  on  this  earth,  so  long  at 
least  as  it  is  the  home  of  wickedness 
and  misery.  And  it  would  be  nothing 
against  this,  that  he  was  arrayed  with 
surpassing  majesty,  and  continually  ex- 
hibited demonstrations  of  supremacy. 
The  majesty,  which  moreover  could 
only  be  seen  by  few  at  one  time,  would 
cease  to  dazzle  when  it  had  been  often 
beheld  ;  and  the  demonstrations  of  su- 
premacy would  lose  their  power  after 
frequent  repetition.  We  think  that  the 
common  feelings  of  our  nature  warrant 
our  being  sure,  that  there  would  be  im- 
mense difficulty  in  persuading  a  con- 
gregation, like  the  present,  to  kneel 
down  and  worship,  as  God,  a  being  of 
whom  they  were  told  that  he  was 
dwelling  as  a  man  in  Jerusalem,  or 
some  other  city  of  the  earth.  And  then 
you  are  to  remember,  that,  even  if  his 
essential  Deity  had  been  manifested  to 
men,  he  must  probably  have  been  with- 


TUE    ASCENSION    OF   CHRIST. 


351 


drawn  from  other  ranks  of  intelligence  : 
for  would  it  not  alnriost  imply  a  sepa- 
ration, which  cannot  take  place,  of  his 
divinity  from  his  humanity,  to  suppose 
him  personally  discovering  his  uncrea- 
ted splendors  in  other  parts  of  the  uni- 
verse, whilst  he  still  dwelt  in  a  body 
where  he  had  suffered  and  died  '? 

So  then  we  cannot  well  see  how 
there  could  have  been  the  thorough 
manifestation  of  the  divinity  of  the  Son, 
which  had  been  almost  hidden  imder 
earlier  dispensations,  had  not  Christ 
ascended  up  on  high,  and  taken  his 
seat  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father. 
We  stay  not  to  inquire  how  far  the 
glory,  which  had  been  promised  to  his 
humanity,  might  have  been  bestowed, 
had  there  been  nothing  of  this  exaltation, 
or  had  it  not  been  permanent.  We  con- 
fine ourselves  to  the  glory  which  was 
to  accrue  to  the  divinity  j  for  all  our 
hopes  rest  on  the  demonstration  which 
God  gave,  that  Christ  was  his  Son,  co- 
eternal  and  co-equal  with  himself.  And 
if  we  were  to  ask  evidence  that  he,  who 
had  been  crucified  and  buried,  was  ne- 
vertheless a  divine  person,  what  should 
that  evidence  be  %  We  would  not  ask 
the  mere  resurrection  of  this  person, 
though  that  must  of  course  form  the 
first  part  of  our  proof.  We  would  not 
ask  his  mere  ascension  ;  for  if  he  might 
not  tarry  in  the  heavens,  we  should 
doubt  whether  they  were  indeed  his 
rightful  home.  We  would  ask  that  he 
might  be  received  into  the  dwelling- 
place  of  God,  and  there  and  thence 
wield  all  the  authority  of  omnipotence. 
We  would  ask  that  angel  and  archan- 
gel, principality  and  power,  might  ga- 
ther round  his  throne,  as  they  were 
wont  to  do  round  that  of  the  Father, 
and  render  to  him,  notwithstanding  his 
human  form,  the  homage  which  they 
render  only  to  their  Maker.  We  would 
ask  that  he  should  be  withdrawn  from 
mortal  view,  since  Deity  dwells  "  in 
light  which  no  man  can  approach  un- 
to ;"  but  that,  from  his  inaccessible  and 
invisible  throne,  he  should  direct  all 
the  affairs  of  this  earth,  hearing  the 
prayers,  supplying  the  wants,  and  fight- 
ing the  battles  of  his  church,  and  thus 
giving  as  continued  proofs  of  omnipre- 
sence as  are  to  be  found  in  the  agen- 
cies of  the  material  creation.  And  this 
is  precisely  the  demonstration  which 
has  been  furnished.  On  testimony,  than 


which  even  that  of  the  senses  could 
not  be  more  convincing,  we  believe 
that  the  Lord  our  Redeemer,  the  very 
person  who  sorrowed  and  suffered  up- 
on earth,  is  invested  with  all  the  hon- 
ors, and  exercises  all  the  powers,  of 
absolute  Deity;  and  that,  though  he 
still  retains  his  human  form,  there  has 
been  committed  to  him  authority  which 
no  creature  could  wield,  and  there  is 
given  him  a  homage  which  no  creature 
could  receive.  What  though  the  hea- 
vens have  received  him  out  of  oursightl 
there  have  come  messages  from  those 
heavens  informing  us  of  his  solemn  en- 
thronement as  "  King  of  kings,  and 
Lord  of  lords  ;"  and  notes  of  the  celes- 
tial minstrelsy  are  borne  to  mortal  ears, 
celebrating  the  Son  of  the  virgin  as  the 
great  "  I  am,"  who  was,  and  is,  and  is 
to  come.  And  it  is  in  consequence  of 
such  messages  that  thousands,  and  tens 
of  thousands,  of  the  inhabitants  of  this 
earth,  bow  at  the  name  of  Jesus  ;  and 
that  vast  advances  have  already  been 
made  towards  a  splendid  consumma- 
tion, when  the  sun,  in  his  circuit  round 
our  globe,  shall  shine  on  none  but  the 
worshippers  of  "  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain." 

Is  this  a  result  in  which  we  rejoice'? 
Is  it  indeed  cause  of  gladness  to  us, 
that  the  divinity  of  the  Son,  veiled  not 
only  during  the  days  of  his  humiliation 
in  flesh,  but  throughout  the  ages  which 
preceded  the  incarnation,  has  been  glo- 
riously manifested,  so  that  he  is  known 
and  worshipped  as  God  1  Then,  if  this 
be  matter  of  rejoicing,  we  must  be  pre- 
pared to  be  glad,,  that,  in  ascending 
from  Olivet,  the  Mediator  ascends  to 
fix  his  abode  in  the  heavens.  This  full 
manifestation  of  divinity  required  hea- 
ven as  its  scene,  and  could  not  have 
been  effected  on  the  narrow  and  pol- 
luted stage  of  our  earth.  Yes,  we  must 
be  glad  that  the  ascending  Savior  is 
not  to  return,  because  by  not  return- 
ing he  is  to  show  forth  his  Godhead. 
And,  therefore,  we  can  again  address 
the  heavenly  hosts,  shining  and  beauti- 
ful beings,  who  are  marshalling  the 
way,  in  solemn  pomp,  for  "the  High 
Priest  of  our  profession."  We  know- 
why  ye,  0  celestial  troop,  exult  in  his 
return.  He  ascends  to  be  the  light  of 
your  abode  ;  and  ye  triumph  in  the 
thought  that  he  is  to  be  eternally  with 
you.    And  even  we  can  share  your  ex- 


352 


THE    ASCENSION    OF    CHRIST- 


ultation,  we,  from  whom  he  departs, 
and  who  are  no  longer  to  be  delighted 
by  his  presence.  We  feel  that  within 
the  veil  alone  can  his  recompense  be 
bestowed,  a  recompense  which  could 
not  be  withheld  without  the  darkening 
of  all  our  best  hopes:  let,  then,  our 
voices  mingle  with  yours;  for  we  too 
are  ready  to  pour  forth  the  summons, 
"  Lift  up  your  heads,  0  ye  gates,  and 
be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and 
the  King  of  glory  shall  come  in." 

But  we  must  carry  our  argument  yet 
further.  Let  it  be  supposed  that  the 
promised  recompense  might  have  been 
fully  conferred  upon  Christ,  without  his 
departure  or  absence — the  recompense 
that  was  to  belong  to  his  divinity,  as 
well  as  that  of  which  his  humanity  was 
to  be  the  subject — we  may  still  show 
that  his  ascension  and  exaltation  should 
furnish  us  with  great  matter  of  rejoic- 
ing. It  is  clearly  stated  in  Scripture, 
that  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  as 
the  guide  and  comforter  of  the  church, 
could  not  take  place  whilst  Christ  re- 
mained on  earth.  We  are  probably  not 
competent  to  the  discovering  the  rea- 
sons for  this ;  but  if  we  consider  the 
scheme  of  redemption  as  constructed 
that  it  might  manifest  the  three  per- 
sons of  the  Godhead,  we  may  see  a 
special  fitness  in  the  departure  of  the 
Son  before  the  coming  of  the  Spirit. 
You  cannot  imagine  a  more  thorough 
manifestation  of  the  second  and  third 
persons  than  has  thus  been  effected. 
The  offices,  respectively  sustained  in 
the  work  of  our  redemption,  bring  these 
persons  distinctly  before  us,  and  that, 
too,  in  the  manner  besl  adapted  to  gain 
for  them  our  love  and  veneration.  The 
Son,  having  humbled  himself  for  us, 
and  thus  bound  us  to  himself  by  the 
closest  ties,  returned  to  take  his  seat 
in  the  heavens,  and  to  be  the  object  of 
worship  to  all  ranks  of  intelligent  be- 
ing. The  scene  was  thus  left  ready  for 
the  entrance  of  the  Spirit,  who  came 
down  with  every  demonstration  of  al- 
mightiness,  endowing  'the  weak  with 
superhuman  powers,  and  instructing 
the  illiterate  in  the  mysteries  of  the 
Gospel.  We  will  not  presume  to  say 
that  there  could  not  have  been  this 
manifestation  of  the  third  person  in  the 
Trinity,  had  not  the  second  ascended, 
and  separated  himself  from  the  church. 
But,  at  least,  we  may  urge  that  we  have 


a  facility  in  distinguishing  the  persons, 
now  that  the  office  of  one  upon  earth 
has  succeeded  to  that  of  the  other, 
which  we  could  hardly  have  had  if 
those  offices  had  been  contemporane- 
ously discharged.  Had  the  Son  remain- 
ed visibly  with  us,  we  should  probably 
have  confounded  his  office  with  that  of 
the  Spirit :  at  all  events  we  should  not 
so  readily  have  recognized  a  Trinity  of 
persons.  Even  as  it  is,  the  third  per- 
son is  often  practically  almost  hidden 
from  us  by  the  second :  what  then  would 
it  have  been,  had  not  the  heavens  receiv- 
ed Christ,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  might 
be  alone  in  his  great  work  of  renewing 
our  nature  1 

But,  whatever  may  be  our  thoughts 
and  conjectures,  it  is  evidently  the  re- 
presentation of  Scripture,  that  the  Spir- 
it could  not  have  descended,  had  not 
Christ  returned  to  his  Father,  and  fixed 
his  residence  in  heaven.  St.  John  ex- 
pressly speaks  of  the  Holy  Ghost  as 
"  not  yet  given,  because  that  Jesus  was 
not  yet  glorified."  And  our  Lord  him- 
self, desiring  to  comfort  his  disciples, 
who  were  overwhelmed  with  grief  at 
the  prospect  of  his  departure,  made 
this  strong  statement,  "  It  is  expedient 
for  you  that  I  go  away  ;  for  if  1  go  not 
away,  the  Comforter  will  not  come  un- 
to you;  but  if  I  depart,  I  will  send  him 
unto  you."  Here,  as  you  must  all  per- 
ceive, it  is  distinctly  asserted  that  the 
Comforter  could  not  come,  unless  Christ 
departed ;  whilst  his  coming  is  repre- 
sented as  of  such  moment  to  the  church, 
that  it  would  be  advantageously  pro- 
cured even  at  the  cost  of  that  depar- 
ture. 

We  are  bound,  therefore,  in  consid- 
ering what  reasons  there  may  be  to 
ourselves  for  rejoicing  in  the  exalta- 
tion of  Christ,  to  assume  that  this  ex- 
altation was  indispensable  to  the  de- 
scent of  the  Spirit  on  the  day  of  pen-, 
tecost,  and  to  his  presence  with  the 
church  to  expound  and  carry  home  the 
Gospel.  And  certainly,  if  we  had  no 
other  reason  to  give  why  human  voices 
should  utter  the  summons  of  our  text, 
this  alone  would  suffice.  Of  Avhat  avail 
would  it  have  been  to  us,  that  the  Son 
had  humbled  himself,  and  wrestled,  and 
died,  on  our  behalf,  had  the  Spirit  not 
been  given  as  a  regenerating  agent,  to 
make  effectual,  in  our  own  cases,  what 
had  been  wrought  out  by  Christ"?  Who 


THE    ASCENSION    OF    CHRIST. 


353 


but  this  Spirit  enabled  apostles  to  com-  broad  signet  of    inspiration.    "We  are 

bat  the  idolatries  of  the  world,  and  gain  thankful  that  men  can  repent,  that  they 

a  footing  for  Christianity  on  the  earth  ?  can  be  converted  from  the  error  of  their 

Who  but  this  Spirit  guided  the  pens  ways,  that  they  can  'May  hold   on  the 

of  sacred  historians,  that  distant  ages  hope  set  before  them,"  that  they  can 


might  possess  the  precious  record  of 
the  sayings  and  doings  of  the  Redeem- 
er! Who  but  this  Spirit  now  makes  the 
Bible  intelligible,  throwing  on  its  pages 
supernatural   light,  so   that  they  burn 
and  glow  with  the  truths  of  eternity  1 
Who  but  this  Spirit  convinces  man  of 
sin,  produces  in  him  that  ''godly  sor- 
row"   which    "  worketh    repentance," 
and   leads  to  the  putting  faith  in  the 
alone  propitiation  1  Who  but  this  Spirit 
gradually  withdraws  the  affections  from 
what  is  perishable,  animates  by  setting 
before  the  view  the  prizes  of  heaven, 
and  so  sanctifies  fallen  beings  that  they 
become  meet  for  the  unfading  inherit- 
ance ]  Who  but  this  Spirit  comforts  the 
mourning,  confirms  the  wavering,  di- 
rects the  doubting,  sustains  the  dying"? 
The  office  of  the   Son  may  indeed  be 
more  ostensible  ;   it  may  more  easily 
commend  itself  to  our   attention,  be- 
cause discharged  in  the  form  of  a  man  ; 
but  he  can  know  little  of  vital,  practi- 
cal Christianity,  who  supposes  it  more 
important    than    that    of    the    Spirit. 
What  the  Son  did  for  us  was  valuable, 
because   to   be   followed   by  what  the 
Spirit  does :  take  away  the  agency  of 
the  third  Person,  and  we   are  scarce 
benefited  by  the  agony  of  the  second. 
And  if  then  it  were  an  act  of  mercy, 
not  to  be   measured,  that  the  Son  of 
God  descended  to  bear  the  punishment 
of  our  sins ;  it  was  no  less  an  act  in- 
volving all  our  happiness,  that  he  de- 
parted to  send   down   the  Comforter. 
Shall  we  then  join  in  the  chorus  of  an- 
gels, when  they  throng  the  firmament 
in  honor  of  the  birth  of  the  Redeemer, 
and  shall  we  be  silent  when  they  cele- 
brate his  return  to  the  presence  of  his 
Father  1  No  ;  if  we  have  any  value  for 
Christianity  as  set  up  in  the  heart,  and 
regulating  the  life,  the  departure  of  the 
Mediator  will  as  much  move  our  glad- 
ness as  his  coming.    We  are  thankful 
that    intrepid    preachers    were    found, 
who,  in  the  face  of  danger  and  death, 
carried  the  cross  into  every  district  of 
the  earth.    We   are   thankful  that  we 
were  not  left  to  the  uncertainties  and 
errors   of  oral  trtuiition,  but  that  we 
have  a  volume  in  our  hands  with  the 


live  soberly  and  righteously,"  die 
peacefully,  and  enter  heaven  triumph- 
antly. But  for  all  this  we  are  practi- 
cally as  much  indebted  to  the  Spirit  as 
to  the  Son.  All  this  is  virtually  owino- 
not  to  the  presence,  but  to  the  absence 
of  the  Mediator  ;  and,  therefore,  will 
we  hearken  for  the  song  of  the  cheru- 
bim and  seraphim,  as,  with  every  indi- 
cation of  joy,  they  meet  and  encircle 
the  ascending  Head  of  the  church  ;  and 
even  from  earth  shall  be  heard  a  sum- 
mons, as  though  from  the  voices  of 
those  who  are  full  of  exultation,  "  Lift 
up  your  heads,  0  ye  gates,  and  be  ye 
lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the 
King  of  glory  shall  come  in." 

Now  we  would  recur  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, in  winding  up  this  great  sub- 
ject of  discourse,  to  the    first  reason 
which  we  gave  why  men  should  rejoice 
in  the  ascension  of  Christ.    We  spoke 
of  this  ascension  as  the  ascension  of 
our   nature,    so    that    the  entrance  of 
Christ    into    heavenly  places  was  the 
proof  of  our  restoration  to  favor,  and 
the  pledge  of  our  final  admission  into 
the  paradise  of  God.    And  how  noble, 
how  elevating,  is  the  thought,  that  it 
was  indeed  as  our  forerunner,  as  our 
representative,  that  Jesus  passed  into 
the  presence  of  his  Father.    How  glo- 
rious to  take  our  stand,  as  it  were,  on 
the  mount  of  Olives,   to  gaze  on  the 
Mediator,  as  he    wings   his   flight  to- 
wards regions  into   which  shall  enter 
nothing  that  defileth,  and  to  feel  that 
he  is  cleaving  a  way  for  us,  the  fallen 
and  polluted,  that    we  too  may  enter 
the  celestial  city.  What  were  the  words 
which  angels  addressed   to  the  disci- 
ples, as  they  strained  their  vision  to 
catch  another  glimpse  of  their  depart- 
ing Lordl     "  Ye  men  of  Galilee,  why 
stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven  1    This 
same  Jesus,    which  is  taken  up  from 
you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in  like 
manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  go  into 
heaven."     Then  the  ascension  should 
cause  our  minds  to  go  forward,  and  fix 
themselves  on    the    second  advent  of 
the  Lord.     Waste  not  your  time,  the 
angels  seem  to  say,  in  regrets  that  your 
Master  is  taken  from  your  view;  rather 
45 


354 


THE    ASCENSION    OF    CHRIST. 


let  faith  anticipate  a  moment,  when, 
"  in  Hke  manner,"  with  the  clouds  for 
his  chariot,  and  flying  "  on  the  wings 
of  the  wind,"  he  shall  return  to  the 
earth  from  which  he  has  just  now  de- 
parted. The  gates  shall  again  lift  up 
their  heads  ;  the  everlasting  doors  shall 
be  opened  ;  and  the  King  of  glory,  who 
now  enters  to  assume  the  sovereignty 
won  by  his  sufferings  and  death,  shall 
come  forth  in  all  the  pomp,  and  with 
all  the  power,  of  the  anointed  Judge 
of  humankind. 

He  shall  come  forlh  in  the  very  cha- 
racter under  which  admission  is  claim- 
ed for  him  in  the  text,  "  The  Lord 
strong  and  mighty,  the  Lord  mighty 
in  battle."  As  yet  there  have  been  ac- 
complished but  a  portion  of  the  Old 
Testament  types:  the  High  Priest  has 
offered  the  sacrifice,  and  carried  the 
blood  within  the  vail ;  but  he  has  not 
yet  returned  to  bless  the  gathered  mul- 
titude. The  cry  however  shall  yet  be 
heard  at  midnight ;  and  "  the  Lord 
strong  and  mighty"  shall  approach,  to 
confound  every  enemy,  and  complete 
the  salvation  of  his  church.  And  if  we 
Avould  be  "  found  of  him  in  peace"  on 
this  his  return,  we  must  see  to  it  that 
we  provide  our  lamps  with  oil  in  the 
days  of  our  strength.  I  do  not  know  a 
more  awful  part  of  Scripture  than  the 
parable  of  the  ten  virgins,  to  which,  as 
you  will  perceive,  we  here  make  allu- 
sion. We  are  always  fearful  of  dwell- 
ing too  strongly  on  the  minuter  parts 
of  a  parable ;  but  there  is  something 
so  singular  in  the  fact,  that  the  foolish 
virgins  went  to  seek  oil  so  soon  as 
they  heard  of  the  bridegroom's  ap- 
proach, but  were  nevertheless  exclud- 
ed, that  we  dare  not  pass  it  by  as  con- 
veying no  lesson.  If  the  parable  admit 
of  being  applied,  as  we  suppose  it  must 
in  a  modified  sense,  to  the  circumstan- 
ces of  our  death,  does  it  not  seem  to 
say  that  a  repentance,  to  which  wo  are 
driven  by  the  approach  of  dissolution, 
will  not  be  accepted  1  The  foolish  vir- 
gins sought  not  for  oil,  till  alarmed  by 
tidings  that  the  bridegroom  was  at 
hand;  and  many  think  that  it  will  be 
enough  if  they  give  heed  to  religion 
when  they  shall  have  reason  to  appre- 
hend that  their  last  day  is  not  distant. 
But  the  foolish  virgins,  although,  as  it 
would  seem,  they  obtained  oil,  were 
indignantly  shut  out  from  the  banquet; 


what  then  is  to  become  of  sinners,  v/ho, 
in  the  day  of  sickness,  compelled  by 
the  urgency  of  their  case,  and  frighted 
by  the  nearness  of  their  end,  show  some- 
thing like  sorrow,  and  profess  some- 
thing like  faith  \ 

1  own  that  nothing  makes  me  think 
so  despondingly  of  those  who  wholly 
neglect  God,  till  they  feel  themselves 
dying,  as  this  rejection  of  the  virgins, 
who  would  not  begin  to  seek  oil  till 
they  found  the  bridegroom  at  hand, 
and  then  obtained  it  in  vain.  It  is  as 
though  God  said,  If  you  will  not  seek 
me  in  health,  if  you  will  not  think  of 
me  till  sickness  lell  you  that  you  must 
soon  enter  my  presence,  I  will  surely 
reject  you :  when  you  knock  at  the 
door  and  say,  "Lord,  Lord,  open  i^to 
us,"  I  will  answer  from  within,  "  I  ne- 
ver knew  you  :  depart,  depart  from 
me."  We  dare  not  dwell  upon  this  : 
we  have  a  hundred  other  reasons  for 
being  suspicious  of  what  is  called 
death-bed  repentance  ;  but  this  seems 
to  make  that  repentance — ay,  though 
the  death  be  that  of  consumption,  and 
the  patient  linger  for  months,  with  his 
senses  about  him,  and  his  time  appa- 
rently given  to  the  duties  of  religion 
— of  no  avail  whatever:  for  if  the  man 
obstinately  neglected  God,  till  alarmed 
by  the  hectic  spot  on  his  cheek,  that 
hectic  spot  was  to  him  what  the  mid- 
night cry  was  to  the  virgins,  the  signal 
that  the  bridegroom  was  near;  and 
what  warrant  have  we  that  God  will 
admit  him  to  the  feast,  if  the  five  vir- 
gins were  "excluded  with  every  mark 
of  abhorrence,  though  they  sought  for 
oil,  and  bought  it,  and  brought  it  I 

We  bring  before  you  this  very  awful 
suggestion,  that  none  of  you  may  think 
it  too  soon  to  prepare  to  meet  the  Sa- 
vior, whose  ascension  we  have  com- 
memorated, and  for  whose  return  we 
are  directed  to  look.  Let  all,  the  young 
and  the  old,  be  ever  on  the  watch,  with 
the  loins  girt,  the  lamps  trimmed,  and 
the  lights  burning.  Let  not  that  day 
overtake  any  of  us  "as  a  thief,"  as  a 
thief  not  more  because  coming  steal- 
thily and  unexpectedly,  than  because 
it  will  strip  us  of  our  confidence,  and 
leave  us  defenceless.  But  if  we  now 
give  diligence  to  "  add  to  our  faith 
virtue,  and  to  virtue  knowledge,  and  to 
knowledge  temperaiice  ;"  if  we  labor 
to  be  "  found  of  liim  in  peace,"  appro- 


THE    SPIRIT    UPON    THE    WATERS. 


355 


priating;  to  ourselves  his  promises,  on- 
ly as  we  find  ourselves  conformed  to 
his  precepts;  then  let  "the  Lord, 
strong  and  mighty,  the  Lord  mighty 
in  battle,"  appear  in  the  heavens :  we 
shall  be  "  caught  up  to  meet  him  in 
the  air,  and  so  shall  we  ever  be  with 
the  Lord."  Glorious  transformation ! 
glorious  translation !  I  seem  already 
to  behold  the  wondrous  scene.  The 
sea  and  the  land  have  given  up  their 
dead:  the  quickened  myriads  have 
been  judged  according  to  their  works. 
And  now  an  innumerable  company,  out 
o[  all  nations,  and  tribes,  and  tongues, 


ascend  with  the  Mediator  towards  the 
kingdom  of  his  Father.  Can  it  be 
that  these,  who  were  born  children  of 
wrath,  who  were  long  enemies  to  God. 
by  wicked  works,  are  to  enter  the 
bright  scenes  of  paradise  1  Yes,  he  who 
leads  them,  has  washed  them  in  his 
blood;  he  who  leads  them,  has  sancti- 
fied them  by  his  Spirit ;  and  now  you 
may  hear  his  voice  in  the  summons, 
"  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and 
be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors; 
and  these,  my  ransomed  ones,  shall 
come  in,  and  behold,  and  share  my 
glories." 


SERMON   VIII. 


THE    SPIRIT    UPON    THE    WATERS.* 


■"  And  the  earth  was  without  form  and  void  :  and  darkness  was  upon  the  face  of  the  deep.    And  the 
Spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  face  of  the  waters." — Genesis,  1  :  2. 


We  are  required  on  this  day,  by  the 
ordinance  of  the  church,  to  consider 
specially  the  person  and  work  of  the 
third  person  in  the  Trinity.  The  pre- 
sent festival  is  in  commemoration  of 
that  great  event,  the  pentecostal  effu- 
sion of  the  Spirit,  an  event  not  inferior 
in  importance  to  the  incarnation  of  the 
Son.  We  say,  not  inferior  in  import- 
ance, for  it  would  avail  us  little  that 
redemption  has  been  achieved  by  one 
Divine  person,  if  it  were  not  applied, 
or  made  effectual,  by  another.  There 
is  so  much  to  fix,  and  even  engross, 
our  attention  in  the  work  of  the  Son  ; 
the  humiliation,  the  sufferings,  and  the 
success,  are  so  conspicuous  and  con- 
founding, that  we  may  easily  become 
comparatively  unmindful  of  what  we 
owe  to  the  Father  and  the  Spirit ; 
though  the  persons  of  the  Trinity  are 
not  more  one  in  essence  and  dignity, 


than  in  their  claim   on  our  love,  and 
their  title  to  our  veneration. 

It  is  of  great  worth,  therefore,  that 
the  church  has  instituted  such  com- 
memorations as  the  present;  for,  by 
bringing  before  us  in  succession  the 
mysteries  of  our  faith,  and  the  various 
blessings  provided  for  our  race,  they 
do  much  towards  preventing  our  dwell- 
ing on  one  doctrine  or  benefit,  to  the 
exclusion  of  others  which  deserve 
equal  thought.  There  would  have  been 
the  same  stupendousness  and  virtue  in 
the  work  of  the  Son,  if  it  had  never 
been  followed  by  the  descent  of  the 
Spirit.  But  then  if  it  be  true,  that  our 
hearts  are  naturally  averse  from  God 
and  holiness,  so  that,  of  ourselves,  we 
are  unable  to  repent,    and  lay  hold  on 

*  The  outline  of  this  sermon  has  been  partly  de- 
rived from  that  of  a  discourse  by  Dr.  Donne  on  the 

last  clause  of  the  verse. 


355 


THE    SPIRIT    rPON    THE    WATERS. 


the  pvoffered,  but  conditional,  deliver-  go  back  to  the  earliest  times,  and  see 
ance,  of  what  use  is  it  that  such  cost-  ,  whether  even  then,  ere  this  creation 
ly  provision  has  been  made  on  our  be-  I  rose  in  its  beauty,  the  Spirit  of  God 
half,  unless  there  be  also  provision  for  !  was  not  mightily  energetic,  performing 
our  being^  strengthened  to  make  it  our    such  wonders  on  inanimate  matter  as 


own  1  Thus  such  festivals  as  Christ- 
mas and  Easter,  and  such  commemo- 
rations as  Good  Friday,  though  they 
miffht  remind  us  of  sublime  and  awful 
things,  would  bring  before  us  nothing 
that  could  be-  practically  of  worth  to 
fallen  creatures,  if  they  were  not  to 
be  followed  by  a  Whitsunday,  when 
might  be  celebrated  the  coming  down 
of  a  divine  agent  to  renew  the  cor- 
rupt nature.  On  this  day,  the  third 
person  of  the  Trinity  descended  to 
tabernacle  upon  earth,  as  on  Christ- 
mas day  the  second  was  "  found  in 
fashion  as  a  man."  And  not  deeper, 
nor  more  abundant,  should  be  our  gra- 
titude, that,  "  for  us  men  and  for  our 
salvation,"  "  the  Word  was  made 
fle^h,"  than  that,  "  with  the  sound  as 
of  a  rushing  mighty  wind,"  the  Com- 
forter came  to  take  the  things  of  Christ, 
and  show  them  to  the  soul. 

We  have  endeavored  on  former  re- 
currences of  the  present  solemnity,  to 
explain  to   you  the  scriptural  doctrine 
as  to  the  person  and  work  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.    We  have  labored  to  show  you, 
that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  not,   as  some 
have  vainly  taught,  a  mere  quality,  at- 
tribute, or  property  of  God  ;  but,  in  the 
strictest   sense,  a  Divine   person,  pos- 
sessing the  divine  nature,  filling  divine 
offices,    and    performing    divine     acts. 
And  as  to  the  work  of  this  person,  we 
have   described  it  to  be  that  of  reno- 
vating and  sanctifying  our  nature  ;  so 
that,  by   secret    suggestions    and    im- 
pulses, by  exciting    good   desires,  by 
strencrthening    our  powers    and  recti- 
fying our  aflections,  by  quickening  our 
understandings    to    the    perception  of 
truth,  and  inclining  our  wills  to  obedi- 
ence, he  restores  in  us  the  lost  image 
of  God,  and  fits  us  for  "  the  inheritance 
of  the  saints  in  light."  Statements  such 
as  these,  with  regard  to  the  personali- 
ty and  offices  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  have 
been    so   frequently    laid   before    you, 
that  we  can  hardly  consider  their  re- 
petition necessary.  We  shall  not,  there- 
fore, employ  the    present   opportunity 
on  proving  what  we  may  believe  that 
you  admit,  or  explaining  what  we  may 
hope  that  you  understand.  But  we  will 


imaged  the  yet  stranger  which  he  was 
afterwards  to  perform  upon  mind. 

It  is  not,  however,  that  we  design  to 
lay  great  stress  on  arguments  in  sup- 
port  of  the   doctrine    of   the    Trinity, 
which  have  been  fetched  from  the  very 
commencement  of  the  Bible.    We  will 
only  glance  at  those  arguments.    You 
are   probably   aware,  that,  in  the  first 
verse  of  the  book  of  Genesis,  where  it 
is  said,  "  In  the  beginning  God  created 
the  heavens  and  the   earth,"  the   He- 
brew word,  translated  "  God,"  is  in  the 
plural,  whilst  that  rendered  "created," 
is  in   the   singular.    From    this    it  has 
been  argued,  with  much  appearance  of 
truth,  that    Moses  announces,   in    the 
very  first  line  of  his  writings,  a  plurality 
of  persons  in  the  Godhead  ;  for  on  what 
supposition  are  we  to  explain  the  com- 
bination of  a  plural  noun  with  a  singu- 
lar verb,  unless  we  allow  that  God  may 
be  spoken    of   in   the   plural,    because 
there  are  several  persons  in  the  God- 
head, and  at  the  same  time  in  the  sin- 
gular,  because  those   persons   consti- 
tute  the   one    indivisible  Jehovah  1  If 
we  had  nothing  but  this  verbal  criti- 
cism, on  which  to  rest  the  doctrine  of 
a  plurality  of  persons  in  the  Godhead, 
we    might   feel    it   insufficient   for   so 
weighty  a  superstructure.  But  we  may 
fairly  say,  that,  when  we  have  proved 
the  doctrine  on  less  questionable  evi- 
dence, there  can  be  no  reason  for  our 
rejecting   this    auxiliary   testimony,    a 
testimony  peculiarly  interesting  from 
the   place   in   which  it  occurs,    seeing 
that  the  Bible  thus  commences  with  an 
intimation  of  the  Trinity  in  unity. 

And  it  is  remarkable,  that,  having 
thus  hinted  at  there  being  several  per- 
sons in  the  Godhead,  Moses  immedi- 
ately proceeded  to  speak  of  one  of 
these  persons,  and  to  ascribe  to  Him  a 
great  office  in  the  construction  of  this 
globe.  If  indeed  this  were  the  only 
passage  in  which  we  found  mention  of 
the  Spirit  of  God,  we  should  hardly  be 
warranted  in  concluding  from  it  the 
personality  and  Deity  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Had  our  text  stood  alone,  it 
might  perhaps  with  justice  have  been 
said,  that  nothing  more  was  intended 


THE    SPIRIT    TJPON    THE    'WATERS. 


J57 


by  the  Spirit  of  God,  than  an  energy, 
or  quality,  appertaining  to  God.  But 
when  we  have  fortified  ourselves  from 
other  Scriptures  with  abundant  evi- 
dence that^the  Spirit  is  a  person,  and 
that  too  a  Divine  person,  it  is  highly 
interesting  to  turn  to  the  opening  of 
the  Bible,  and  there  to  find  this  agent 
introduced  into  the  business  of  crea- 
tion— the  earliest  historian  combining 
with  the  latest  evangelist  to  proclaim 
his  title,  and  to  ascribe  to  him  opera- 
tions which  are  beyond  finite  power. 
And  if  you  further  recollect,  how,  in 
various  parts  of  the  New  Testament, 
the  work  of  creation  is  distinctly  attri- 
buted to  Christ,  as  the  eternal  Son  or 
Word  of  God;  and  then  observe  the 
same  work  ascribed,  in  the  first  page 
of  Scripture,  to  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  you 
can  hardly  fail  to  allow  that  the  great 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity  pervades  the 
whole  Bible:  it  is  not  indeed  stated 
every  where  so  distinctly  that  it  can- 
not be  overlooked ;  but  it  may  easily 
be  detected  in  passages  whose  witness 
to  it  might  be  doubtful,  if  we  were  not 
certified  by  others  of  its  truth. 

But  it  is  very  important,  that,  in  our 
contests  for  fundamental  articles  of 
faith,  we  should  not  rest  on  weak  or 
dubious  arguments.  An  insufficient  de- 
fence is  a  great  injury  to  truth.  Whilst, 
then,  we  believe_,that  there  really  are 
traces  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in 
the  passages  to  which  we  have  refer- 
red, and  in  similar  which  might  be  ad- 
duced, we  should  hold  it  unwise  to  lay 
much  stress  upon  them  in  debate  with 
the  Unitarian.  They  are  not  our  strong 
points ;  and  we  give  him  an  advantage 
by  insisting  on  our  weaker.  Thus,  for 
example,  we  may  be  ourselves  quite 
persuaded,  that  the  recorded  appear- 
ance of  God  to  Abraham  in  the  plain 
of  Mamre,  was  a  manifestation  to  that 
patriarch  of  the  Trinity  in  unity.  Three 
men  appeared,  and  yet  only  the  Lord 
is  said  to  have  appeared :  and  each  of 
the  three  persons  used  language,  or 
did  things,  which  went  to  the  proving 
him  divine.  Our  church  accordingly 
fixes  as  one  of  the  lessons  for  Trinity 
Sunday,  the  chapter  which  contains 
the  account  of  this  appearance.  Still, 
though  we  may  be  quite  satisfied  that 
there  was  thus  given  a  symbolical  no- 
tice of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  we 
would  not  attach  weight  to  it  in  argu- 


ing with  the  opponent  of  the  doctrine  : 
we  feel  that  he  might  easily  urge  ma- 
ny specious  objections,  and  that  we 
should  take  dangerous  ground  by  ap- 
pealing to  an  occurrence,  whose  signi- 
ficative character  is  not  asserted  in 
Scripture. 

But  whilst  we  thus  caution  you 
against  taking  as  sufficient  arguments, 
what,  after  all,  may  be  only  doubtful 
intimations,  we  may  yet  affirm  it  both 
pleasing  and  profitable,  to  mark  what 
may  be  called  the  first  hints  of  truths, 
which  were  to  be  afterwards  clearly  re- 
vealed. There  is  all  the  difference  be- 
tween what  will  be  likely  to  work  con- 
viction in  an  adversary,  and  what  may 
minister  to  the  confidence  of  a  believ- 
er. And  if  the  Unitarian  will  not  go 
with  me  into  patriarchal  times,  and 
trace  on  the  yet  young  creation  the 
vestiges  of  an  incarnate  Deity,  it  may 
tend  greatly  to  the  strengthening  my 
own  faith,  and  the  heightening  my  own 
joy,  that  I  can  follow  "the  angel  of  the 
covenant,"  as  he  appears  and  disap- 
pears amongst  the  fathers  of  our  race  : 
and  though  I  may  not  count  it  safe  to 
rest  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  on  the 
earliest  inspired  records,  I  may  observe 
with  delight  that  God  spake  in  the  plu- 
ral number  when  he  formed  Adam  of 
the  dust,  and  be  confirmed  in  my  creed 
by  hearing,  that,  whilst  the  earth  was 
"without  form  and  void,"  "the  Spirit 
of  God  moved  on  the  face  of  the  wa- 
ters." 

But  we  will  now  leave  this  more  ge- 
neral discussion,  and  confine  ourselves 
to  the  examination  of  the  words  of  our 
text.  We  shall  hereafter  give  you  rea- 
sons for  considering  that  these  words 
admit  of  a  two-fold  application — to  na- 
tural things  and  to  spiritual.  At  pre- 
sent we  assume  this,  and  therefore  an- 
nounce the  two  following  as  our  topics 
of  discourse — the  first,  the  moving  of 
God's  Spirit  on  the  waters  of  the  ma- 
terial creation ;  the  second,  his  mov- 
ing on  waters,  of  which  these  may  be 
regarded  as  in  some  degree  typical. 

Now  there  has  been  much  anxiety 
felt  in  modern  times  by  the  supporters 
of  revelation,  on  account  of  alleged 
discoveries  in  science,  which  apparent- 
ly contradict  the  Mosaic  record  of  the 
creation.  We  had  been  accustomed  to 
conclude,  with  the  Bible  for  our  guide, 
that  this  globe  was  not  quite  six  thou- 


358 


THE    SPIRIT    UPON    TUE    WATERS. 


sand  years  old  ;  that,  six  thousand  years 
ago,  the  matter  of  which  it  is  composed 
was  not  in  existence,  much  less  was  it 
the  home  of  animal  or  vegetable  life. 
We  had  been  accustomed  to  think,  that, 
unless  man  had  fallen,  there  would  have 
been  no  decay  and  no  death  in  this 
creation,  so  that  every  beast  of  the 
field  would  have  walked  in  immortal 
strength,  and  every  tree  of  the  forest 
have  waved  in  immortal  verdure.  But 
modern  science  is  quite  counter  to  these 
our  suppositions  and  conclusions :  for 
the  researches  of  the  geologist  oblige 
us  to  assign  millions,  rather  than  thou- 
sands, of  years  as  the  age  of  this  globe, 
and  to  allow  it  to  have  been  tenanted 
by  successive  tribes  of  living  things, 
long  before  the  time  when  man  was 
summoned  into  being. 

It  would  in  no  sense  be  fitting  that 
we  should  here  examine  the  facts,  or 
the  reasonings,  by  which  the  geologist 
substantiates  his  position.  But  we  are 
bound  to  declare  our  persuasion,  that, 
to  any  candid  mind,  the  facts  and  the 
reasonings,  duly  scrutinized  and  weigh- 
ed, must  appear  quite  conclusive  ;  so 
that  every  student  of  the  structure, 
every  inquirer  into  the  phenomena  of 
the  globe  on  which  we  dwell,  must,  we 
think,  be  almost  forced  to  acknowledge 
that  the  earth  bears  on  itself  dates 
which  prove  well-nigh  immeasurable 
antiquity,  and  contains  the  relics  of 
animated  tribes,  whose  existence  can 
never  be  brought  within  the  limits  of 
human  chronology.  It  is  of  no  avail 
that  we  shut  our  eyes  to  the  progress 
of  science,  and  entrench  ourselves 
within  old  interpretations  of  Scripture. 
We  must  go  forward  with  the  general 
advance  of  knowledge:  for  unless  the- 
ology can  at  least  keep  pace  with  phi- 
losophy, it  shall  hardly  be  able  to  cope 
with  infidelity. 

And,  for  our  own  part,  we  have  no 
fear  that  any  discoveries  of  science  will 
really  militate  against  the  disclosures 
of  Scripture.  We  remember  how,  in 
darker  days,  ecclesiastics  set  them- 
selves against  philosophers,  who  were 
investigating  the  motions  of  the  hea- 
venly bodies,  apprehensive  that  the 
new  theories  were  at  variance  with 
the  Bible,  and  therefore  resolved  to 
denounce  them  as  heresies,  and  stop 
their  spread  by  persecution.  But  truth 
triumphed;  bigotry  and  ignorance  could 


not  long  prevail  to  the  hiding  from  the 
world  the  harmonious  walkings  of  stars 
and  planets  ;  and  ever  since,  the  philo- 
sophy which  laid  open  the  wonders  of 
the  universe,  hath  proved  herself  the 
handmaid  of  the  revelation  which  di- 
vulged secrets  far  beyond  her  gaze. 
And  thus,  we  are  persuaded,  shall  it 
always  be :  science  may  scale  new 
heights,  and  explore  new  depths;  but 
she  shall  bring  back  nothing  from  her 
daring  and  successful  excursions,  which 
will  not,  when  rightly  understood,  yield 
a  fresh  tribute  of  testimony  to  the  Bi- 
ble. Infidelity  may  watch  her  progress 
with  eagerness,  exulting  in  the  thought 
that  she  is  furnishing  facts  with  which 
the  christian  system  may  be  strongly 
assailed;  but  the  champions  of  revela- 
tion may  confidently  attend  her  in  eve- 
ry march,  assured  that  she  will  find 
nothing  which  contradicts,  if  it  do  not 
actually  confirm,  the  word  which  they 
know  to  be  divine. 

For  though  it  may  be  true  that  we 
have  no  right  to  look  in  the  Bible  for 
instruction  in  natural  things,  it  appears 
to  us  equally  true,  that  we  have  right 
to  expect  that  it  will  contain  nothing 
that  is  false  in  reference  to  any  sub- 
ject whatsoever.  It  does  not  profess  to 
treat  of  natural  things  ;  and,  therefore, 
it  would  be  unjust  to  open  it  with  the 
expectation  that  natural  things  will  be 
explained  in  its  pages.  But  it  does 
profess  to  be  throughout  an  inspired 
document,  and  therefore  to  contain  no- 
thing but  truth;  and  we  think  it,  on 
this  account,  most  just  to  expect,  that, 
if  it  ever  make  a  reference,  however 
incidental,  to  natural  things,  the  refer- 
ence will  be  one  which  may  be  tested 
by  all  scientific  discoveries,  and  prov- 
ed in.  thorough  consistence  therewith. 
Wri  count  it  most  important  that  this 
distinction  should  be  borne  in  mind  ; 
for  whilst  we  hold  that  it  would  be  no 
argument  against  revelation,  if  it  were 
wholly  silent  on  the  structure  of  the 
earth,  and  the  motions  of  the  heavens 
— seeing  that  its  object  is  to  unfold  to 
us  yet  deeper  things — we  equally  hold 
that  it  would  be  an  argument  against 
it,  if  it  ever  spake  of  these  matters  in 
a  way  that  would  not  bear  being  con- 
fronted with  ascertained  truths.  It  is 
thus  with  regard  to  the  discoveries  of 
the  geologist.  We  should  have  had  no 
right  to  require,  as  a  necessary  part 


THE    SPIRIT    UrOiN    THE    WATERS. 


359 


of  a  revelation  from  God,  an  account 
of  the  formation  of  our  material  sys- 
tem. The  Bible  might  perhaps  have 
been  complete  for  [all  moral  purposes, 
if  there  had  been  no  such  account  on 
its  pages.  But  if  the  inspired  writer 
take  upon  himself  to  give  an  account 
of  the  formation  of  the  earth  and  the 
heavens,  we  have  full  right  to  expect 
that  his  account  will  be  thoroughly 
accurate ;  and  we  cannot  but  think, 
that  if  this  account  were  absolutely  ir- 
reconcilable with  established  conclu- 
sions of  geology,  some  cause  would 
be  given  for  questioning  whether  Mo- 
ses wrote  under  the  guidance  of  the 
Spirit  of  God. 

But  there  has  not  yet  been,  and  we 
are  sure  there  never  will  be,  made  out 
the  impossibility  of  reconciling  the  dis- 
coveries of  geology  with  the  Mosaic 
account  of  the  creation.  Vv'^e  would 
adopt  the  statement  which  has  been 
increasingly  adopted  and  supported  by 
our  divines,  that  the  two  first  verses  of 
the  book  of  Genesis  have  no  immedi- 
ate connection  with  those  that  follow. 
They  describe  the  first  creation  of  mat- 
ter ;  but,  so  far  as  any  thing  to  the 
contrary  is  stated,  a  million  of  ages 
may  have  elapsed  between  this  first 
creation,  and  God's  saying  "Let  there 
be  light,"  and  proceeding  to  mould 
matter  into  a  dwelling-place  for  man. 
You  cannot  show  that  the  third  verse 
is  necessarily  consecutive  on  the  two 
first,  so  that  what  is  recorded  in  the 
one  may  not  be  separated,  by  a  long 
interval,  from  what  is  recorded  in  the 
others.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  clear  that 
the  interval  may  be  wholly  indefinite, 
quite  as  long  as  geology  can  possibly 
ask  for  all  those  mighty  transforma- 
tions, those  ponderous  successions,  of 
which  it  affirms  that  it  can  produce  in- 
dubitable evidence.  And  we  cannot  but 
observe  the  extreme  accuracy  of  the 
scriptural  language.  It  seems  to  be  no- 
where said  that  in  six  days  God  crea- 
ted the  heavens  and  the  earth  ;  but,  as 
in  the  fourth  commandment,  that,  "  in 
six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and 
earth."  Creation  was  the  act  of  bring- 
ing out  of  nothing  the  matter  of  which 
all  things  were  constructed  ;  and  this 
was  done  before  the  six  days;  after- 
wards, and  during  the  six  days,  God 
made  the  heaven  and  the  earth  ;  he 
moulded,  that  is,  and  formed  into  dif-  i 


ferent  bodies,  the  matter  which  he  had 
long  ago  created.  And  it  is  no  objec- 
tion to  this,  that  God  is  said  to  have 
created  man  on  the  sixth  day ;  for  you 
afterwards  read  that  "  God  formed  man 
of  the  dust  of  the  ground;"  so  that  it 
was  of  pre-existent  matter  that  Adam 
was  composed.  We  seem,  therefore, 
warranted  in  saying  that  with  the  third 
verse  of  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis 
commences  the  account  of  the  produc- 
tion of  the  present  order  and  system 
of  things ;  and  that  to  this  Moses  con- 
fines himself,  describing  the  earth  as 
made  ready  for  man,  without  stopping 
to  speak  of  its  previous  conditions. 
But  since  he  does  not  associate  the 
first  creation  of  matter  with  this  pre- 
paration of  the  globe  for  its  rational 
inhabitants,  he  in  no  degree  opposes 
the  supposition,  that  the  globe  existed 
immeasurably  before  man,  that  it  un- 
derwent a  long  series  of  revolutions, 
was  tenanted  by  animals,  and  clothed 
with  vegetation. 

And  though  you  may  think  it  strange 
that  there  should  have  been  death  be- 
fore there  had  been  sin,  you  are  to  re- 
member that  there  is  nothing  in  the  Bi- 
ble to  inform  us  that  animals  die  be- 
cause man  was  disobedient.  We  may 
have  been  accustomed  to  think  so  ;  but 
we  do  not  see  how  it  can  be  proved. 
And  when  you  observe  that  whole 
tribes  of  animals  are  made  to  prey  upon 
others,  this  species  being  manifestly 
designed  for  the  food  of  that,  you  will 
perhaps  find  it  hard  to  believe  that  ev- 
ery living  thing  was  originally  meant  to 
live  for  ever;  you  will  ask  somethino- 
better  than  a  popular  persuasion,  ere 
you  conclude  that  the  insect  of  a  day 
was  intended  to  be  immortal;  or  that 
what  is  the  appointed  sustenance  of  a 
stronger  race,  was  also  appointed  to 
be  actually  indestructible. 

These  then  are  the  general  views 
which  we  think  furnished  by,  or,  at 
least,  consistent  with  our  text  and  the 
preceding  verse.  We  take  these  verses 
as  the  only  record  which  God  hath 
been  pleased  to  give  of  a  mysterious, 
and  probably  immense,  period,  whose 
archives  are  found,  by  the  scientific 
eye,  sculptured  on  the  rocks,  or  buried 
in  the  caves  of  the  earth.  They  refer  to 
ages,  in  comparison  perhaps  of  which 
the  human  chronology  is  but  a  span, 
and  of  which,  though  we  have  received 


360 


THE    SPIRIT    UPON    THE    WATERS. 


no  written  history,  we  can  read  the 
transactions  in  the  fuel  which  we  heap 
on  our  fires,  and  in  the  bones  which 
we  dig  from  our  hills.  And  there  ap- 
pears to  us  something  surpassingly  su- 
blime in  the  thought,  that  our  text  may 
be  thus  the  general  description  of  an 
indefinite  interval,  from  the  creation  of 
matter  to  the  production  of  man.  We 
do  not  know  a  grander  contemplation 
than  that  to  which  the  mind  is  sum- 
moned, when  required  to  consider  this 
globe  as  of  an  antiquity  which  almost 
baffles  calculation,  and  as  having  been 
prepared,  by  changes  which  may  have 
each  occupied  a  series  of  ages,  for  the 
residence  of  beings  created  in  the  im- 
age of  God.  We  know,  of  course,  that, 
however  far  back  we  carry  the  origin 
of  all  things,  there  must  have  been  a 
moment  when  God  was  literally  alone 
in  immensity ;  and  that  the  longest,  as 
well  as  the  shortest,  reach  of  time, 
must  be  as  nothing  in  comparison  of 
eternity.  But,  nevertheless,  to  minds 
constituted  as  our  own,  there  is  some- 
thing inconceivably  more  commanding 
in  the  thought,  that  the  earth  has  ex- 
isted for  ages  which  are  not  to  be  reck- 
oned, and  that,  from  time  immemorial 
it  has  been  a  theatre  for  the  display  of 
divine  power  and  benevolence,  than  in 
this,  that  it  rose  out  of  nothing  six 
thousand  years  ago.  In  the  one  case, 
but  not  in  the  other,  we  assign  to  the 
agency  of  God  an  immeasurable  pe- 
riod, a  period  throughout  which  there 
have  been  swarms  of  animated  things, 
which  only  God  could  have  produced, 
and  only  God  could  have  sustained; 
and  thus  represent  Deity  as  pouring 
forth  the  riches  of  his  wisdom  and 
goodness,  and  gathering  in  the  tribute 
of  mute  homage  from  unnumbered 
tribes,  when,  perhaps,  there  were  yet 
no  seraphim  to  hymn  his  praises,  and 
no  cherubim  to  execute  his  will. 

It  is  when  surveyed  under  the  point 
of  view  thus  indicated,  that  our  text 
appears  mos{  interesting  and  imposing. 
It  is  not,  we  suppose,  the  record  of  a 
solitary  interference  of  creative  might, 
but  of  a  series  of  amazing  revolutions, 
each  of  which  was  effected  by  the  im- 
mediate agency  of  the  Spirit  of  God. 
The  earth  passed  from  one  state  to  an- 
other ;  islands,  and  continents,  and  wa- 
ters assuming  different  forms  and  pro- 
portions, and  being  successively  fitted 


for  different  living  tribes.  And,  on  each 
transition,  there  may  have  been  such 
an  overthrow  of  the  previous  system, 
and  such  an  approximation  towards  the 
original  chaos,  that  the  earth  may  have 
been  "  without  form  and  void,"  and 
darkness  may  have  rested  upon  "  the 
face  of  the  deep."  But,  in  each  case, 
"the  Spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the 
face  of  the  waters."  The  word  is  ra- 
ther, "brooded  over  the  waters,"  as  a 
hen,  extending  her  wings,  that  vital 
warmth  may  be  communicated,  and  the 
egg  resolve  itself  into  a  living  thing. 
The  Spirit  of  God,  whose  especial  of- 
fice it  is  to  impart  life  and  vigor,  so 
acted  on  the  inert  and  insensible  par- 
ticles of  the  elemental  mass,  as  to  im- 
print on  them  those  laws,  and  infuse 
into  them  those  properties,  which  Avere 
to  constitute  what  we  are  wont  to  call 
nature,  under  each  successive  dispen- 
sation. It  was  not  that  matter  had  any 
power  or  tendency,  of  itself,  from  its 
own  inherent  energies  and  qualities,  to 
assume  certain  forms,  and  mingle  in 
certain  combinations.  It  was  only  that 
a  vivifying  Spirit  busied  itself  with  its 
innumerable  atoms,  communicating  to 
each  precisely  what  would  fit  it  for  its 
part  or  place  in  the  new  order  of  things ; 
so  that  sea,  and  land,  and  air  might 
swarm  with  the  productions  which  God 
appointed  to  succeed  to  the  extinct. 
And  thus  may  revolution  after  revolu- 
tion have  been  effected,  not  so  much 
through  the  operation  of  second  causes, 
as  through  the  mysterious,  but  mighty, 
brooding  of  that  celestial  Agent,  who 
still  acts  as  the  vivifier,  and  still  ex- 
tracts order  and  beauty  from  the  moral 
chaos  of  humanity.  One  condition  of 
the  globe  and  its  inhabitants  may  have 
succeeded  to  another,  till,  at  length, 
the  time  approached  when  God  had  de- 
termined the  production  of  a  being 
who  was  to  wear  his  likeness  and  act 
as  his  vicegerent.  Then  was  the  earth 
once  more  mantled  with  darkness:  land 
and  water  were  confounded  :  and  the 
various  tribes  of  animated  nature  per- 
ished in  the  elemental  war.  But  a  re- 
sistless agency  was  at  work,  permeat- 
ing the  shapeless  and  boiling  mass,  and 
preparing  it  for  edicts  to  be  issued  on 
what  we  ordinarily  call  the  six  days  of 
creation.  The  globe  v/as  henceforward 
to  be  the  dwelling-place  of  rational, 
yea,  immortal  beings  ;  it  must  there- 


THE    SPIRIT    UPON    THE    WATERS. 


361 


fore  be  impregnated  with  a  fertility, 
and  enamelled  with  a  beautj'-,  to  which 
it  had  been  heretofore  a  stranger  ;  and 
nobler  things  must  walk  its  fields,  and 
haunt  its  waters,  fit  subjects  of  a  ruler 
who  was  to  bear  his  Maker's  image. 
With  the  adapting  matter  to  this  loftier 
and  more  glorious  state  of  things  was 
the  third  person  of  the  Trinity  charged, 
the  agent,  as  we  suppose,  in  every  for- 
mer revolution.  And  when,  at  divine 
command,  the  earth  brought  forth  the 
fresh  green  gra«s,  and  trees  hung  at 
once  with  varied  fruit  and  foliage  ;  and 
the  waters  teemed. with  the  moving 
species  that  have  life  ;  and  the  dry  land 
and  the  air  were  crowded  with  stately 
and  beautiful  creatures,  waiting  the  ap- 
pearance of  their  appointed  lord, — Oh, 
it  was  not  that  there  were  natural  pro- 
cesses which  had  gradually  wrought 
out  the  chambers  and  furniture  of  a 
magnificent  palace  :  it  was  rather,  that 
whilst  "  the  earth  was  without  form  and 
void,"  the  Spirit  of  God  had  "moved 
upon  the  face  of  the  waters." 

But  we  have  now  to  ask  your  atten- 
tion to  wholly  different  truths.  We  pro- 
posed, in  the  second  place,  to  pass  from 
natural  to  spiritual  things,  and  to  con- 
sider our  text  in  a  figurative  sense. 
We  were,  however,  to  give  you  rea- 
sons that  might  justify  the  two-fold 
application  of  the  passage.  It  may  suf- 
fice to  observe,  that  the  work  attributed 
to  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  text,  may 
serve  as  a  type  of  that  which  this  di- 
vine agent  came  down  at  Pentecost  to 
perform.  The  Gospel  of  St.  John  com- 
mences in  the  same  strain,  and  with 
the  same  sublime  abruptness,  as  the 
book  of  Genesis  :  as  though  the  histo- 
rians of  the  New  Testament  and  of  the 
Old  had  to  give  the  narratives  of  simi- 
lar creations.  And  forasmuch  as  that 
moral  change,  which  passes  upon  those 
who  become  heirs  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  is  described  in  the  Bible  as 
nothing  less  than  a  new  creation,  and 
is  moreover  ascribed  to  the  agency  of 
that  Spirit  which  brooded  over  the  wa- 
ters of  the  primitive  chaos,  there  can, 
at  least,  be  nothing  unreasonable  in  tl>e 
supposition  that  a  typical  character 
attaches,  in  some  degree,  to  the  scrip- 
tural account  of  the  formation  of  all 
things. 

You  will  find  it,  we  believe,  to  have 
been  the  general  opinion  of  the  fathers 


of  the  church,  that  the  waters  of  which 
we  read  in  the  very  beginning  of  the 
Bible,  were  a  figure  of  those  of  bap- 
tism :  so  that,  as  the  world  may  be  said 
to  have  been  produced  from  the  wa- 
ters on  which  the  Spirit  first  moved, 
the  church  may  be  said  to  come  forth 
from  those  sacramental  waters,  whose 
virtue  is  derived  from  that  self-same 
Spirit's  brooding.  In  accordance  with 
such  opinion,  we  believe  it  to  be  spe- 
cially in  and  through  the  sacrament  of 
baptism,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  acts  in 
renovating  the  nature,  which  became 
corrupt  through  apostacy.  We  depre- 
cate, indeed,  as  much  as  any  man,  the 
so  ascribing  virtue  to  a  sacrament,  that 
those  who  have  partaken  of  it  may  be 
led  to  feel  sure  that  they  need  no  other 
change,  no  greater  moral  amelioration, 
than  has  been  thereby  efiected  or  pro- 
cured. But,  Avithout  doing  this,  we  may 
attribute  to  baptism  regenerating  effi- 
cacy. We  would  ourselves  be  con- 
stantly using,  and  pressing  upon  others 
the  use  of  the  collect  of  our  church  for 
Christmas-day,  in  which  the  prayer  is, 
"  Grant  that  we,  being  regenerate  and 
made  thy  children  by  adoption  and 
grace,  may  daily  be  renewed  by  thy 
Holy  Spirit,"  a  prayer  in  which  the 
supplicants  undeniably  represent  them- 
selves as  already  regenerate,  and  adopt- 
ed into  God's  family;  but  in  which,  ne- 
vertheless, they  ask  for  dailj'^  renewal, 
and  that  too  through  the  workings  of 
God's  Spirit.  The  church  here  evident- 
ly distinguishes  between  regeneration 
and  renewal,  just  as  the  apostle  does, 
when  he  speaks  of  being  saved  by  "  the 
washing  of  regeneration,  and  the  re- 
newing of  the  Holy  Ghost;"  regenera- 
tion, you  observe,  being  closely  asso- 
ciated with  water — "  the  washing  of  re- 
generation"— and  not  confounded  with 
that  renovation  which  the  Holy  Spirit 
effects  in  true  believers.  If  then  the 
church  say  that  regeneration  takes 
place  at  baptism,  she  does  not  say  that 
no  renewal  is  needed  besides  this  rege- 
neration; why,  therefore,  should  the 
church  be  taunted,  as  though  she  at- 
tached inordinate  value  to  a  sacrament, 
and  taught  men,  that,  because  sprink- 
led in  infapcy,  they  stand  in  need  of 
no  further  change "? 

That  the  church  of  England    does 
hold,  and  does  teach,  baptismal  rege- 
neration,  would  never,  we  must  ven- 
46 


362 


THE    SPIRIT    UPON    THE    AVATEIIS. 


ture  to  think,  have  been  disputed,  had  [ 
not  men  been  anxious  to  remain  in  her  > 
communion,  and  yet  to  make  her  for-  ' 
mularies  square  with  their  own  private 
notions.   The  words  put  into  the  mouth  i 
of  the  officiating  minister,  immediate-  \ 
ly  after  every  baptism,  "  Seeing  nov»r, 
dearly  beloved,  that  this  child  is  rege-  j 
nerate,"   seem   too  distinct  to  be  ex- 
plained away,  and  too  general  for  any  | 
of  those    limitations   by   Avhich  some  j 
Avould  restrict  them.    You  may  tell  me  j 
that  the  church  speaks  onlyin  the  judg-  j 
ment  of  charity,    on   the   supposition 
that  there  has  been   genuine  faith  in 
those  who  have  brought  the  infant  to 
the  font.   But,  even  on  this  modified  | 
view,  the  church  holds  baptismal  rege- 
neration :  she  holds,  that,  if  not  invari- 
ably, yet  under  certain  circumstances, 
infants   are  regenerate,    only  because 
baptized.   We  cannot,  however,  admit 
that  the  language  is  only  the  language 
of   that    charity    which    "  hopeth    all 
things."    Had  the  church  not  designed 
to  go  further  than  this,  she  might  have 
said,  "  Seeing  that  we  may  charitably 
believe,"    or,  "  Seeing   that    we    may 
charitably  hope  that  this  child  is  rege- 
nerate :"  she  could  never  have  ventur- 
ed on  the  broad  unqualified  declaration, 
a  declaration  to  be  made  whensoever 
the  sacrament  of  baptism  has  been  ad- 
ministered, "  Seeing  that  this  child  is 
regenerate ;"  and  then  have  gone  on 
to  require  of  the  congregation  to  ex- 
press their  gratitude  in  such  words  as 
these,  "  We  yield  thee  hearty  thanks, 
most  merciful  Father,  that  it  hath  plea- 
sed thee  to  regenerate  this  infant  with 
thy  Hply  Spirit."  We  really  think  that 
no  fair,  no  straightforward  dealing  can 
get   rid    of   the    conclusion,    that    the 
church  holds  what  is  called  baptismal 
regeneration.  You  may  dislike  the  doc- 
trine :  you  may  wish  it  expunged  from 
the  prayer-book ;  but  so  long  as  I  sub- 
scribe to  that  prayer-book,  and  so  long 
as  I  officiate   according  to  the  forms 
of  that  prayer-book,.!  do  not  see  how 
I  can  be  commonly  honest,  and  yet  de- 
ny that  every  baptized  person  is,  on 
that  account,  regenerate. 

But  then,  if  you  charge  on  the  church, 
that  because  she  holds  this,  she  holds 
that  every  baptized  person  has  so  un- 
dergone, that  he  must  retain,  all  the 
moral  change  necessary  for  admission 
into  heaven,  you  overlook  other  parts 


of  the  baptismal  service  which  strong- 
ly rebut  your  accusation.  No  sooner 
has  the  church  pronounced  the  infant 
regenerate,  than  she  asks  the  prayers 
of  the  people,  that  "this  child  may 
lead  the  rest  of  iiis  life  according  to 
this  beginning" — evidently  intimating 
her  belief,  that,  though  regenerate,  the 
child  may  possibly  not  go  on  to  that 
renewal  of  nature,  which  alone  can  se- 
cure godly  living.  And  what  are  we  to 
say  of  the  appointment  of  sponsors, 
parties  from  whom  the. church  requires 
vows  in  the  name  of  the  child,  and  to 
whom  she  commits  the  instruction  of 
the  child,  if  not  that  the  church  feels, 
that,  whatever  the  benefits  conferred 
by  baptism,  they  remove  not  the  ne- 
cessity for  the  use  of  all  those  means, 
by  which  sinners  may  be  brought  nigh 
to  God,  and  upheld  in  a  state  of  ac- 
ceptance 1  The  church  then  holds  that 
baptism  regenerates  :  but  the  church 
does  not  hold  that  all  who  are  thus 
regenerate,  can  never  need  any  further 
moral  change  in  order  to  fitness  for 
heaven. 

And  we  freely  own  that  we  know 
not  how,  consistently  with  Scripture, 
the  church  could  do  otherwise  than 
maintain,  that  what  is  called  the  se- 
cond birth  is  effected  at  baptism.  Our 
Lord's  words  are  very  explicit,  "Ex- 
cept a  man  be  born  of  water  and  of 
the  Spirit,  he  cannot  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  It  can  hardly  be 
disputed  that  the  being  "  born  of  wa- 
ter" refers  to  baptism — any  other  in- 
terpretation must  be  so  strained,  that 
to  mention  would  be  to  refute  it.  But 
if  we  are  "born  of  water"  in  baptism, 
do  you  mean  to  say  that  it  is  at  some 
other  time  that  we  are  "  born  of  the 
Spirit  1"  Then  there  is  a  third  birth, 
as  well  as  a  second  ;  and  of  this  I  do 
not  think  Ave  read  in  any  part  of  Scrip- 
ture. The  water  and  the  Spirit  seem 
compared  to  two  agents  which  meet 
in  order  to  the  production  of  a  new 
creature.  The  birth  spoken  of  is  not 
from  the  water  by  itself,  neither  is  it 
from  the  Spirit  by  itself:  the  simile 
would  hardly  have  been  drawn  from 
a  birth,  had  there  not  been  agencies 
which  might  be  said  to  combine,  and 
which  might  therefore  be  likened  to 
parents.  Hence,  if  it  be  in  baptism  that 
we  are  "born  of  water,"  it  must  also 
be  in  baptism  that  we  are  "  born  of  the 


THB    SPIRIT   UPON   THE    WATEKS. 


363 


Spirit  " — otherwise  you  make  Christ 
speak  of  two  births,  where  he  mani- 
festly speaks  only  of  one  ;  and  you  re- 
present him  moreover  as  using  a  simile 
Avhich  is  scarcely  in  place,  unless  two 
atrencies  unite  to  effect  a  result,  1 

I'll 

We  believe  then,  in  accordance  with 
the  doctrine  of  our  church,  a  doctrine 
of  whose  agreement  with  Scripture  we  ' 
are  thoroughly  persuaded,  that  every  i 
baptized  person  has  entered,  in  virtue  ; 
of  his  baptism,  on  a  condition  so  dif-  ; 
ferent  from  his  natural,  become  enti-  j 
tied  to  such  privileges,  and  endowed  I 
with  such  grace,  that  he  may  be  de-  | 
scribed  as  regenerate,    or  born  again 
from  above.  He  may  fail  to  be  finally 
advantaged  by  this  adoption  into  God's 
visible  family.    He  may  not  be  trained 
up  as  a  member  df  that  family  should 
be  trained :  there  may  be  no  attempt 
at  making  use  of  his  privileges,  none 
at  acquiring  or  cherishing  the  disposi- 
tions which  should  characterize  God's 
children,    none    at   consolidating  and 
perpetuating   that  membership  which 
was  derived  to  him  by  his   initiation 
into  the  church.  But  this  is  only  say- 
ing, that,  having  been  made   a  child  of 
God,  he  may  fail  at  last  to  be  an  heir  of 
the  kingdom,  through  failing  to  con- 
form himself  to  the  known  will,  and  to 
improve  the  offered  mercies,  of  his  Fa- 
ther in  heaven.    He  may  be  reckoned 
with  the  sons,  because  he  has  been  re- 
generated, and  nevertheless  be  disin- 
herited at  the  last,  because  he  has  ne- 
ver labored  after,  and  therefore  never 
acquired,  that  thorough  moral  renewal, 
of  which  his  regeneration  was  at  once 
the  pledge  and  the  commencement. 

Let  us  pause  for  a  moment,  and  en- 
deavor to  explain  how  it  comes  to  pass 
that  there  is  so  little  of  visible  efBca- 
cy  in  the  sacrament  of  baptism.  We 
would  illustrate  from  the  account  of 
the  restoration  of  the  daughter  of  Jai- 
rus :  Christ  raised  her  from  the  dead 
by  miracle ;  but  immediately  command- 
ed that  means  should  be  used  for  sus- 
taining the  life  thus  supernaturally'com- 
municated.  "  And  her  spirit  came  again, 
and  she  arose  straightway ;  and  he 
commanded  to  give  her  meat."  We 
caji  gather  the  history  of  the  uncon- 
verted amongst  you  from  this  simple 
narrtftive.  Whilst  they  were  yet  young, 
too  young  to  feel  or  act  for  themselves, 
their  parents  were  conscious  that  they 


labored  under  great  moral  sickness,  a 
sickness  which  was  even  unto  death ; 
and  they  went  therefore  to  Jesus,  and 
besought   him    to    make    them  whole. 
And,  by  command  of  the  great  Physi- 
cian, were  the  children  sprinkled  with 
the  waters  of  baptism,  and  thus  made 
members   of  his  church,  and  heirs  of 
his  kingdom.    Here  was  miracle  :  the 
child  of  wrath  became  a  child  of  God  : 
the  guilt  of  original  sin  was  removed ; 
and  a  right  acquired  to  all  those  gra 
cious  privileges,  through  which,  dili- 
gently used,  the  life  may  be  preserved 
which  is  imparted  in  baptism.  We  be- 
lieve of  these  baptized  children,  that, 
had  they  died  ere  old  enough  to  be 
morally  accountable,  they  would  have 
been  admitted  into  heaven  ;  and,  there- 
fore, do  we  also  believe  that  they  pass- 
ed, at  baptism,  from  death  unto  life,  so 
that,  in  their  case,  baptism  was  instru- 
mental to  the  recovery  of  the  immorta- 
lity forfeited  in  Adam.  But  when  Christ 
had  thus  wrought  a  miracle,  wrought 
it  through  the  energies  of  the  Spirit 
brooding  on  the  waters,  he  issued  the 
same  command  as  to  Jairus,  and  desired 
that  meat    should  be  given  to  those 
whom  he  had  quickened.    So  long  as 
the  children  were  too  young  to  take 
care  of  themselves,  this  command  im- 
plied that  their  parents,  or  guardians, 
were  tobe  diligent  in  instilling  into  their 
minds  the  principles  of  righteousness, 
instructing  them  as  to  the  vows  which 
had  been"  made,  and  the  privileges  to 
which  they  had  been  admitted  at  baptism. 
So  soon  as  the  children  had  reached 
riper  years,  the  command  implied  that 
they  should  use,  with  all  earnestness, 
the  appointed  means  of  grace,  and  es- 
pecially that  they  should  feed,  through 
the  receiving  another    sacrament,    on 
that  body  and  blood  which  are  the  sus- 
tenance of  a  lost  world.    And  we  quite 
believe,   that,    wheresoever   the    com- 
mand is  faithfully  obeyed,  the  life,  com- 
municated in  baptism,  will  be  preserv- 
I  ed  as  the  infant  advances  to  maturity. 
I  But  unhappily,  in  far  the  majority  of 
'■  instances,  the  command  is  altogether 
!  disobeyed.    The  parents  give  the  child 
I  no  meat ;  and  the  child,   when  it  can 
act  for  itself,  attends  to  every  thing 
rather  than  the  sustenance  of  the  spi- 
ritual life.    Even  religious  parents  are 
often  to  blame  in  this  matter:  for,  not 
duly  mindful  of  the  virtues  of  baptism, 


364. 


THE    SPIRIT    UPON    THE    WATEK3. 


they  address  their  children,  as  though 
they  were  heathens,  in  place  of  admo- 
nishing them,  as  members  of  Christ,  to 
take  heed  how  they  let  slip  the  grace 
they  have  received.  And  as  to  irreli- 
gious parents,  who  are  not  careful  of 
their  own  souls,  but  live  in  neglect  of 
those  means  through  which  is  to  be 
maintained  the  membership  with  Christ 
which  baptism  procures — what  can  we 
expect  from  them,  but  that  they  will 
suffer  the  principle  of  life  to  languish 
in  their  children,  so  that  we  shall  have 
a  multitude  with  no  signs  of  moral  ani- 
mation, although  they  have  been  "born 
again  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit  1" 
When,  therefore,  we  are  told,  that,  not- 
withstanding the  use  of  the  sacrament 
of  baptism,  the  great  mass  of  men  have 
evidently  undergone  no  renewal  of  na- 
ture ;  and  when  it  is  argued  from  this, 
that  there  cannot  necessarily  be  any 
reoeneration  in  baptism  ;  our  answer 
is  simply,  that  God  works  by  means 
as  well  as  miracle  ;  that  means  are  to 
sustain  what  miracle  implants ;  and 
that,  therefore,  the  same  appearance 
will  be  finally  presented,  if  means 
be  neglected,  as  if  miracle  were  not 
wrought. 

But,  to  recur  to  our  text :  if  we  have 
rightly  expounded  the  church's  views 
with  reference  to  baptism,  we  may  well 
ao-ree  Avith  the  ancient  fathers,  who 
found  the  waters  of  baptism  in  those 
waters  which  covered  the  solid  matter 
of  this  earth,  and  on  which  the  Spirit 
of  God  moved,  or  brooded,  with  vivi- 
fying energy.  You  are  not  told,  that 
by  this  moving  or  brooding  on  the 
waters,  the  Spirit  acfually  produced 
this  present  globe,  wrought  it  into  the 
structure,  and  clothed  it  with  the  orna- 
ments, which  fitted  it  for  the  residence 
of  man.  All  that  seems  to  have  been 
done,  was  the  infusing  such  properties 
into  matter,  or  the  bringing  it  into 
such  a  condition,  that  it  stood  ready 
for  the  various  processes  of  vegeta- 
tion and  life,  but  still  waited  the  word 
of  the  Almighty  ere  the  trees  sprang 
forth  and  animated  tribes  moved  re- 
joicingly on  its  surface.  And  what  is 
this  but  a  most  accurate  representation 
of  what  we  suppose  efll'ected  in  bap- 
tism 1  We  have  not  so  described  to 
you  the  virtues  of  this  sacrament,  as  to 
lead  you  to  believe  that  the  child,  on 
emerging  from  the  waters,  is  so  trans- 


formed into  the  likeness  of  God  as  to 
be  sure  of  a  place  in  that  city  into 
which  shall  enter  nothing  that  defileth. 
We  have  only  maintained,  that,  by  the 
operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  and 
through  baptism,  the  child  is  brought 
into  such  a  relation  to  God,  so  purged 
from  the  guilt  of  original  sin,  so  ga- 
thered within  the  covenant  of  forgive- 
ness, so  consigned  to  all  the  blessings 
of  adoption,  that  it  may  be  declared 
impregnated  with  the  elements  of  spi- 
ritual life;  elements  which,  if  not  wil- 
fully crushed,  shall  shoot  into  efflores- 
cence and  vigor  beneath  the  creative 
word  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ.  Thus  the 
parallel  is  perfect — there  being  only 
this  difference,  that  inanimate  matter, 
prepared  by  the  Spirit,  was  sure  to  of- 
fer no  resistance,  but  to  resolve  itself, 
at  divine  bidding,  into  the  appointed 
forms ;  whereas  the  human  soul,  though 
similarly  prepared,  may  withstand  the 
quickening  word,  and  refuse  to  bring 
forth  the  fruits  of  righteousness.  But 
this  is  the  only  difference,  a  difference 
which  necessarily  follows  on  that  be- 
tween matter  and  mind.  For  as  the 
rude  and  undigested  chaos,  unapt  for 
vegetation,  untraversed  by  life,  became, 
beneath  the  broodings  of  the  Spirit  on 
the  overspread  waters,  enabled  for  fer- 
tility, and  pregnant  with  vitality,  so 
that  yet  wilder  and  more  unshapen 
thing,  a  fallen  man,  passing  through 
these  mystic  waters  on  which  the  Ho- 
ly Ghost  moves,  is  made  a  fit  subject 
for  the  renewing  word  of  the  Gospel, 
that  word  which  clothes  with  moral 
beauty,  and  nerves  with  moral  strength. 
He  may  resist  the  word  which  com- 
mands that  the  earth  bring  forth  the 
green  herb,  and  that  land  and  water 
teem  with  proof  that  the  voice  of  the 
Lord  has  been  heard.  Nevertheless,  he 
has  been  put  at  baptism  into  such  a 
condition,  there  has  been  communicat- 
ed such  an  aptness  for  hearkening  to 
the  word,  and  obeying  its  injunctions, 
that  the  very  globe,  with  its  fields  and 
forests,  and  varied  tenantry,  shall  wit- 
ness against  him  at  the  judgment,  prov- 
ing itself  less  senseless  and  obdurate, 
seeing  that  it  arose  from  its  baptism, 
ready,  at  God's  command,  to  be  epa- 
melled  with  verdure  and  crowned  with 
animation.  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
when  we  see  an  individual  growing  up 
"in  the    nurture   and  admonition   of 


THE.  SPIRIT    UPON    THE    WATERS. 


365 


the  Lord,"  steadily  acting  out  the  vows, 
claiming  the  privileges,  and  exhibiting 
the  benefits  of  baptism  ;  so  that  life 
is,  from  the  first,  a  progress  towards 
spiritual  perfection ;  we  think  it  not 
strange  if  he  cannot  tell  us  the  day  of 
his  conversion,  if  he  can  only  describe 
aa  acquaintance  with  God,  and  a  love 
to  hisj^name,  which  have  been  deepen- 
ing as  long  as  he  can  recollect ;  we 
should  indeed  marvel  that  a  fallen  crea- 
ture could  thus  seem  set  apart,  from 
his  very  infancy,  to  holiness,  as  though 
he  had  been  born  a  child  of  God  and 
not  of  wrath,  if  we  did  not  remember, 
that,  whilst  the  earth  was  yet  ''  with- 
out form  and  void,"  waters  had  suffused 
it,  and  that  on  the  face  of  those  waters 
had  moved  the  Spirit  of  God. 

These  then  are  the  two  great  senses 
in  which,  as  we  think,  our  text  should 
be  understood ;  the  one  literal,  the 
other  allegorical.  In  ordinary  cases  we 
object  to  the  giving  a  typical  mean- 
ing to  an  historical  statement,  unless 
on  the  express  warrant  of  other  parts 
of  Scripture.  But  though  in  this  case 
we  have  no  such  warrant,  yet,  foras- 
much as  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
upon  man  is  described  as  the  extract- 
ing a  new  creation  from  the  ruins  of 
the  old — the  very  work  attributed  to 
this  agent  in  our  text — we  can  hardly 
think  that  we  deal  fancifully  with  Scrip- 
ture, if,  in  imitation  of  early  writers, 
we  suppose  a  designed  parallel  between 
the  natural  and  spiritual  operations. 
And  though  we  will  not  say  that  what 
we  have,  in  conclusion,  to  advance, 
may  be  equally  defended  by  just  laws 
of  interpretation,  it  is  perhaps  only 
such  an  application  of  the  text  as  may 
be  pardoned  for  the  sake  of  its  practi- 
cal worth. 

On  the  waters  of  the  chaos  brooded 
the  Spirit,  in  order  that  from  the  undir 
gestedmass  might  spring  a  noble  world. 
On  the  waters  of  baptism  still  broods 
that  same  Spirit,  in  order  that  from  the 
midst  of  a  fallen  race  may  rise  the 
church  of  the  living  God.  But  there 
are  other  waters,  of  which  Scripture 
speaks  ;  and  it  is  most  comforting  to 
remember  that  on  these  too  may  God's 
Spirit  rest.  There  are  the  waters  of 
affliction,  waters  to  which  reference  is 
made  in  the  promise,  "  When  thou 
passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be 
with  thee  5"  and  to  which  the  Psalmist 


alludes  when  he  speaks   of  the  deep 
waters   as   having  come  in,  even  unto 
his  soul.    And  when  these  waters  are 
poured  upon  the  christian,  how  often 
may  it  be  said  that  the  earth  is  "  with- 
out form  and  void,"  and  that  darkness 
is  "  upon  the  face  of  the  deep."    All 
seems  a  blank :  on  every  side  there  is 
gloom.    But  is  not  God's  Spirit  upon 
the  waters'?  Surely,  if  it  be  true  that 
the  believer  in  Christ  comes  forth  puri- 
fied by  affliction,  stronger  in  the  graces 
of  the  Gospel,  and  more  disposed  to 
the  yielding  those  fruits  which  are  to 
the  glory  of  God,  it  is  also  true  that 
the  Spirit,  who  is  emphatically  styled 
the   Comforter,  has  moved   upon    the 
waters,  exerting  through  them  a  mys- 
terious influence  on  the  disordered  fa- 
culties ;  so  that  there  hath  at  length 
emerged,  as  from  the  surges  of  the  ear- 
ly deep,  a  fairer  creation,  with  more  of 
the  impress  of  Deity  and  the  earnest  of 
heaven.    And  if  sorrows  may  be  liken- 
ed unto  waters,  certainly  death  may, 
which  cometh  in  as  a  deluge,  and  over- 
whelms the  generations  of  men.    This 
is  a   flood    beneath  which    the    earth 
becomes  literally  "  without  form   and 
void."    The  body,  fashioned  out  of  the 
dust,  is  reduced  to   its  elements:  all 
that  was  comely,  and  strong,  and  ex- 
cellent, departs  ;  and  a  darkness,  fear- 
fully oppressive,  is  on  "  the  face  of  the 
deep."   But  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God 
is  moving  on  the  flood.    These  our  bo- 
dies, like  the  globe  from  which  they 
have  been  taken,  and  into  which  they 
must  be  resolved,  are  to  pass  from  an 
inferior  to  a  nobler  condition  ;  they  are 
to   be  broken   into  a  chaos,  only  that 
they    may    be    reconstructed    in   finer 
symmetry,    and   with    loftier    powers. 
And  when  I  find  it  declared  that  "he 
that  raised   up  Christ  from  the  dead, 
shall  also  quicken  your  mortal  bodies 
by  his  Spirit  that  dwelleth  in  you" — 
the  resurrection  being  thus  attributed 
to  the  Spirit — I  feel  indeed  that  it  may 
again  be  said,  that  the  Spirit  of  God 
moves  "  on  the  face  of  the  waters  ;"  it 
moves  as  the  guardian  and  vivifier  of 
every  particle  submerged  in  the  dark 
flood  of  death  ;  and  its  agency  shall  be 
attested,   attested  as  magnificently  as 
by  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  spring- 
ing from  the  wreck  of  the  old,  when 
this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality, 
this,  corruptible  incorruption. 


366 


THB    PROPORTION    OF    GRACE    TOr  TRIAL. 


We  cannot  detain  you  longer,  though 
fresh  illustrationscvowd  upon  the  mind. 
Living  waters,  we  read,  are  to  go  out 
from  Jerusalem,  ''  till  at  length  the 
earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge 
of  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  as  the  waters 
cover  the  sea."  '  The  Spirit  of  God  will 
be  on  these  waters;  the  flood  of  evan- 
gelical truth  would  avail  nothing  unless 
accompanied  by  this  agent;  but  foras- 
much as  the  Gospel  shall  be  preached 
"  with  the  Holy  Ghost  sent  down  from 
heaven,"  the  desert  will  blossom,  the 
waste  places  rejoice,  and  the  globe  be 
transformed  into  one  glorious  sanctu- 
ary. There  is  a  river,  moreover,  in  the 
heavenly  city,  "clear  as  crystal,  pro- 
ceedinof  out  of  the  throne  of  God  and 


of  the  Lamb."  The  waters  flow  from 
the  throne  of  two  persons  of  the  Trini- 
ty ;  then  on  these  waters  must  be  the 
Third  Person,  who  proceedeth  from 
the  other  two.  Yea,  even  in*  heaven 
may  this  Spirit  act  on  that  which  hath 
been  earthly,  fitting  us  to  pass  from 
one  stage  to  another  of  glory  and  bless- 
edness, so  that  futurity,  like  antiquity, 
shall  be  full  of  splendid  changes,  each 
being  a  progress  towards  Deity,  though 
Deity  will  ever  remain  unapproach- 
able. God  grant — this  is  all  we  can  say 
in  conclusion — that  none  of  us  may 
"quench  the  Spirit;"  Oh,  though  he 
can  sit  majestical  on  the  flood  of  death, 
he  may  be  actually  quenched  by  the 
flood  of  unbelief. 


SERMON    IX. 


THE  PROPORTION  OF  GRACE  TO  TRIAL 


"  And  as  thy  days;  so  shall  thy  strength  be." — Deuteronomy,  33  :  25. 


It  is  of  great  importance,  that,  in 
considering  the  present  condition  of 
our  race,  we  neither  exaggerate,  nor 
extenuate,  the  consequences  of  the 
original  apostacy.  We  believe  it  pos- 
sible to  do  the  one  as  well  as  the  other  ; 
for  though  it  may  not  be  easy  to  over- 
state the  degree  of  our  alienation  from 
God,  or  our  inability  to  return  unto 
him  from  whom  we  have  revolted,  we 
may  speak  as  though  certain  passions 
and  affections  had  been  engendered  in 
us  since  the  fall,  having  had  nothing 
correspondent  in  man  as  first  formed. 
And  this,  we  believe,  would  be  a  great 
mistake  ;  for  we  do  not  see  how  any 
part  of  our  mental  constitution  can 
have  been  added,  or  produced,  since 
we  turned  aside  from  God  :  we  may 
have  prostituted  this  or  that  aftection, 
and  perverted  this  or  that  power ;  but 


assuredly  the  afTection  and  the  power, 
under  a  better  aspect  and  with  a  holier 
aim,  must  have  belonged  to  our  nature 
before  as  well  as  since  the  transgres- 
sion of  Adam.  We  are  not  to  think  that 
an  entirely  new  set  of  energies  and  pas- 
sions was  communicated  to  man,  when 
he  had  fallen  from  innocence  ;  for  this 
would  be  to  represent  God  as  interfer- 
ing to  implant  in  us  sinful  propensities. 
When  a  man  is  converted,  and  there- 
fore regains,  in  a  degree,  the  lost  image 
of  his  Maker,  there  are  not  given  him 
powers  and  afi'ections  which  he  pos- 
sessed not  before  ;  all  that  is  effected 
is  the  removal  of  an  evil  bias,  or  the 
proposing  of  a  new  object ;  the  facul- 
ties are  what  they  were,  except  that 
they  are  no  longer  warped,  and  no 
longer  jWasted  on  perishable  things. 
And  if  that  renewal  of  human  nature, 


THE    FEOPORTION    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


367 


which  is  designated  as  actually  a  fresh 
creation,  consist  rather  in  its  purifica- 
tion and  elevation,  than  in  its  endow- 
ment with  new  qualities,  we  may  con- 
clude, that,  in  its  fall,  "there  was  the 
debasement  rather  than  the  destruc- 
tion of  its  properties,  the  corruption 
of  what  it  had  rather  than  the  acquisi- 
tion of  what  it  had  not. 

It  is,  we  think,  a  very  interesting 
thing  to  observe  men's  present  dispo- 
sitions and  tendencies,  and  to  consider 
what  they  would  have  been  had  man 
continued  in  uprightness.  The  distort- 
ed feature,  and  the  degraded  power, 
should  not  merely  be  mourned  over 
and  reproached :  they  should  be  used 
as  elements  from  which  we  may  deter- 
mine what  our  race  was,  ere  it  rebel- 
led against  God.  When,  for  example, 
we  behold  men  eagerly  bent  on  the 
amassing  of  wealth,  giving  all  their 
energj'^  and  time  to  the  accumulation 
of  riches  which  they  can  never  need 
and  never  enjoy,  we  consider  that  we 
are  not  looking  merely  on  a  melancho- 
ly spectacle,  that  of  creatures  squan- 
dering their  lives  on  what  deserves  not 
their  strivings.  There  is  indeed  the 
exhibition  of  misused  powers  j  but  the 
exhibition  is,  at  the  same  time,  a  strik- 
ing evidence  of  what  man  originally 
was,  and  for  what  he  was  designed. 
The  passion  for  accumulation,  for 
making  provision  for  the  unknown  fu- 
ture, is  among  the  strongest  indications 
that  the  soul  feels  herself  immortal, 
and  urges  to  the  laying  up  for  yet  dis- 
tant times,  \yhat  would  the  man,  who 
is  laboring  night  and  day  for  corrupti- 
ble possessions,  have  been,  had  he  re- 
mained what  he  was  as  originally  cre- 
ated 1  He  would  have  been  an  eager 
candidate  for  those  treasures  which 
are  enduring;  and  all  that  concentra- 
tion of  powers  on  a  perishable  good, 
which  now  excites  our  sorrow,  would 
have  been  the  undivided  employment 
of  every  energy  on  the  acquisition  of 
everlasting  blessedness.  It  is  not  a 
new  desire,  a  desire  which  subsisted 
not  under  any  form  in  the  unfallen 
man,  that  which  now  actuates  the  great 
mass  of  our  race,  who  toil  and  strive 
only  to  be  rich.  It  is  the  very  desire 
which,  we  may  believe,  was  uppermost 
in  our  first  father,  when  the  imap-e  of 
God  was  in  its  freshness,  and  evil  had 
not  entered  paradise.    The  desire  has 


been  turned  towards  the  base  and  cor- 
ruptible; there  has  been  a  change,  a 
fatal  change  in  its  object ;  but,  never- 
theless, the  desire  itself  belonged  to 
our  nature  in  its  glorious  estate,  God 
its  author,  and  immortality  its  aim. 
So  that,  from  the  spectacle  of  crowded 
marts  and  busy  exchanges,  where  num- 
bers manifestly  devote  themselves,  bo- 
dy and  soul,  to  the  amassing  of  money 
we  can  pass  in  thought  to  the  spectacle 
of  a  world  inhabited  only  by  unfallen 
men,  creatures  who,  like  Adam  as  ori- 
ginally formed,  present  the  lineaments 
of  the  Lord  God  himself.  The  one 
spectacle  suggests  the  other :  1  learn 
what  man  was,  from  observing  what 
he  is. 

And  it  is  not  merely  that,  viewing 
the  matter  generally,  we  can  see  that 
the  passion  for  accumulating  wealth  is 
an  original  affection  of  our  nature,  im- 
planted for  noble  ends.  If  you  examine 
with  a  little  more  attention,  you  .will 
be  struck  with  the  testimony  which 
there  is  in  this  passion  to  the  exi- 
gencies and  destinies  of  man.  If  you 
were  to  speak  with  a  great  capitalist, 
one  who  has  already  realized  larfje 
wealth,  but  who  is  as  industrious  in 
adding  to  his  stores  as  though  he  were 
just  beginning  life,  he  would  perhaps 
hardly  tell  you  that  he  had  any  very 
definite  purpose  in  heaping  up  riches, 
that  there  was  any  great  end  which  he 
hoped  to  attain,  or  any  new  source  of 
happiness  which  he  expected  to  pos- 
sess. He  goes  on  accumulating,  be- 
cause there  is  an  unsatisfied  longing, 
a  craving  which  has  not  been  appeas- 
ed, a  consciousness,  which  will  not 
suffer  him  to  be  idle,  that  man's  busi- 
ness upon  earth  is  to  make  provision 
for  the  future.  For  our  part,  we  have 
no  share  in  the  feeling  of  wonder, 
which  we  often  hear  expressed,  that 
worldly  men,  as  they  grow  old,  are 
even  more  eager  than  ever  in  addino- 
to  their  riches.  The  surprising  thing 
to  us  is,  when  a  man  who  for  years 
has  been  intent  on  accumulating  capi- 
tal, can  withdraw  from  his  accustomed 
pursuits,  and  yet  not  be  industrious  in 
seeking  treasure  above.  We  think  it 
only  natural,  that  the  covetous  man 
should  be  more  covetous,  as  he  draws 
nearer  to  death  ;  for  we  regard  covet- 
ousness  as  nothing  less  than  the  pros- 
tituted desire  of  immortality :  it  is  the 


368 


THE   PROPORTION    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


passion  of  n  being,  goaded  by  an  ir-  |  sition,  as  it  may  thus  operate  in  righ- 
repressible  feeling  that  he  shall  have  I  teous  individuals,  with  which  we  now 
wants  hereafter,  for  which  it  behoves  desire  to  engage  your  attention.  Our 
him  to  be  provident  now;  and  what  text  may  have  often  recurred  to  you  as 
marvel,  if  this  feeling  become  more  a  beautiful  promise,  pledging  God  to 
and  more  intense,  as  the  time  of  dis-  |  administer  such  supports  to  his  people 


solution  approaches,  and  the  soul  has 
mysterious  and  painful  forebodings  of 
being  cast,  without  a  shred,  and  with- 
out a  hope,  on  eternity"? 

But  we  make  these  remarks  on  the 
passion  for  accumulation   as  found  in 
unconverted  men,  because  we  wish  to 
examine  whether  there  be  any  thing 
analogous   in    those    who    have   been 
brought  to  the  providing  for  an  after 
state  of  being.     The  worldly  man,  as 
we  have  seen,   is  not  content  with  a 
present  sufficiency,  or  even  abundance  : 
he  is  always  aiming  at  having  a  large 
stock  in  hand,   so  that  he  may  be  se- 
cure, as  he  thinks,  against  future  con- 
tingencies. And  when  you  view  him  as 
a  creature  with  misdirected  energies, 
we  have  shown  you  that  his  irrepressi- 
ble tendency  to  the  providing  for  here- 
after, is  among  the   most  beautiful  of 
testimonies  to  his  being  immortal,  and 
placed  upon  earth  to  prepare  for  ano- 
ther state.  But  if  we  now  suppose  him 
so  transformed  by  divine  grace,  that  he 
is  enabled   to  set  his  affections  "  on 
things  above,"  there  is  a  strong  likeli- 
hood that  he  will  carry  with  him,  if  we 
may  so  express  it,  the  habit  of  accu- 
mulation, so  that  he  will  be  in  spiritual 
things,  what  he  has  long  been  in  tem- 
poral, discontented    with    the   present 
supply,  and  desirous  of  anticipating  the 
future.    And,  of  course,  we  are  not  re- 
quired to  limit  this  remark  to  the  case 
of  an  individual  who  has  been  eager  in 
amassing  earthly  wealth.    We  think  it 
a  feature  which  is  characteristic,  with- 
out exception,  of  all  men,  that  there  is 
a  tendency  to  the  providing  for  the  fu- 
ture.   There  is  hardly  the  mind  to  be 
found,  so  stripped  of  every  vestige  of 
its  origin,  that  it  cares  only  for  to-day, 
and  has  no  regard  for  to-morrow.  And 
if  there  be  an  universal  disposition  to 
the  having,  if  possible,   the   supply  of 
future  wants  already  in  possession,  we 
may  well  expect,  on  the  principles  al- 
ready laid  down,  that  such  disposition 
will  show  itself  in  regard  of  spiritual 
necessities,  and  not  be  confined  to  such 
only  as  are  temporal. 

It  is  the  consideration  of  the  dispo- 


as  shall  be  proportioned  to  their  seve- 
ral necessities.  "  As  thy  days,  so  shall 
thy  strength  be."  And  it  is  unquestion- 
ably a  most   encouraging    declaration, 
full  of  godly  comfort,  admirably  fitted 
to  sustain  us  in  the  prospect  of  various 
trials,  and  abundantly    made  good  in 
the  experience  of  the  righteous.    But 
whilst  we  admit  that  it  is  as  a  promise 
that  our  text  is  most  interesting  and 
attractive,  we  consider  it  so  construct- 
ed as  to  convey  important  lessons,  with 
regard  to  that  desire  to  make  provision 
on  which  we  have  been  speaking.  You 
will  observe  that  the  promise  is  sim- 
ply, that  strength  shall  be  proportioned 
to  the  day  :  there  is  no  promise  of  an 
overplus,  nor  of  such  store  in  hand  as 
shall  make  us  confident  for  the  future, 
because  we  have  already  full  provision 
for  its  wants.     The  promise  is  literally 
fulfilled,  if,  up  to  the  instant  of  our  be- 
ing  placed    in  certain  circumstances, 
we  are  without  the  grace  which  those 
circumstances  may  demand,  provided 
only  that  the    grace    be    imparted  so 
soon  as  the  circumstances  become  ac- 
tually our  own.  Nay,  we  must  go  even 
further  than  this.  The  text  clearly  im- 
plies that   we    are   not  to  expect  the 
grace    or    assistance    beforehand :    it 
would  not  be  true,  that   the  strength 
was  as  the  day,  if  we  were  furnished, 
before    the    day  of   trial    came,    with 
whatsoever  would  be  needful  for  pass- 
ing well  through  its  troubles.    All  that 
we  have  right  to  infer  from  the  passage, 
is,  that  God  will  deal  out  to  us  the  sup- 
ply of  our  wants  as  fast  as  those  wants 
actually  arise  ;  but  that  he  will  not  give 
us  any  thing  which  we  may  lay  by,  or 
hoard  up  for  fresh  emergencies.    And 
thus,  as  we  may  say,  the  text  is  strong- 
ly condemnatory  of  all  bringing  into 
religion  of  that   passion  for  accumula- 
tion which  is  so  distinctive  of  human 
nature  ;  for  it  requires  us  to  live,  from 
moment  to  moment,  upon  God,  and  for- 
bids our  expecting  that  the  grace  for 
to-morrow  will  be  communicated  to- 

These  however  are  pomts  which  re- 
quire to  be  stated  more  at  length,  and 


THE    PKOrORTIOX    OT    GHACE    TO    TRIAL. 


::69 


with  greater  clearness.  In  order  there- 
fore to  combine  the  several  lessons 
which  seem  furnished  bj'  the  expres- 
sive words  of  our  text,  we  shall  direct 
your  attention  to  two  chief  topics  of 
discourse — considering,  in  the  first 
place,  the  caution,  and  in  the  second, 
the  comfort,  which  the  righteous  may 
draw  from  the  saying,  "  As  thy  days, 
so  shall  thy  strength  be." 

Now  there  is  a  wise,  and  there  is 
also  an  unwise,  comparison  of  himself 
with  others,  which  may  be  instituted 
by  a  righteous  individual.  He  may  so 
compare  himself  as  to  be  animated  to 
imitation,  or  he-  may  so  compare  him- 
self as  to  be  disheartened  by  a  sense  of 
inferiority.  And  in  the  latter  compari- 
son, whose  result  proves  that  it  ought 
not  to  have  been  made,  there  is  com- 
monly no  due  regard  to  a  difference  in 
circumstances.  If,  for  example,  we  take 
into  our  hands  the  annals  of  martyrs, 
and  read  the  story  of  the  undaunted 
heroism  with  which  confessors,  in  days 
of  fierce  persecution,  have  braved  the 
loss  of  all  that  is  valuable,  and  the  en- 
durance of  all  that  is  tremendous,  we 
can  perhaps  hardly  repress  a  painful 
feeling  of  inferiority ;  and  we  close 
the  book  with  a  tacit  but  reproachful 
confession,  that  we  seem  void  of  the 
faith  which  could  perform  the  like 
wonders.  And  we  have  no  wish  to  say 
that  there  may  not  be  great  cause, 
Avhen  we  ponder  what  the  saints  of 
other  days  have  suffered  and  done,  for 
acknowledging  that  we  come  far  short 
of  their  zeal  for  the  truth,  and  their 
love  of  the  Savior.  It  is  more  than 
possible  that  Christianity  in  the  present 
day  is  feebler  in  power,  and  fainter  in 
lustre,  than  in  earlier  times,  when  it 
was  to  be  professed  with  danger, 
and  maintained  with  blood.  But  what 
we  now  contend  for,  is,  that  we  have 
no  right  to  consider  the  piety  of  our 
own  times  inferior  to  that  of  former, 
just  because  we  may  doubt  whether 
the  christians  of  this  generation  have 
the  courage  and  fortitude  of  martyrs 
of  old.  It  is  exceedingly  probable  that 
there  are  very  few  christians,  who  can 
declare,  after  honestly  and  fearlessly 
examining  themselves,  that  they  feel 
s(j  nerved  to  bear  all  things  for  Christ, 
that  they  could  go  joyfully  to  the  stake, 
and  sing  his  praises  in  the  nriidst  of  the 
liames.    Let  men  read  the  history  of  a 


Ridley,  or  a  Hooper;  and  then. let  them 
inquire,  if  we  were  now  placed  in  like 
circumstances,  could  we  display  the 
like  constancy!  and  perhaps  from  the 
one  end  of  this  christian  land  to  ano- 
ther, you  would  scarce  fin.d  any  to  an- 
swer in  the  affirmative.  And  this,  we 
wish  you  carefully  to  observe,  would 
not  arise  from  mere  humiiitj',  from 
any  actual  underrating  of  their  strength 
and  devotedness.  The  answer  would 
be  the  answer  of  perfect  truth,  the  an- 
swer dictated  by  a  most  accurate  com- 
parison of  the  supposed  trial  with  the 
possessed  power.  We  are  quite  pre- 
pared for  any  the  most  cogent  proof, 
that  christians  of  the  present  day  are 
not  actually  in  possession  of  the  cou- 
rage and  determination  of  martyrs 
and  confessors;  and  that  if,  on  a 
sudden,  without  their  receiving  fresh 
communications  of  grace,  they  w'ere 
brought  before  rulers,  and  required  to 
maintaiu  their  profession  with  their 
lives,  the  likelihood  is  that  there  would 
be  grievous  apostacy,  even  where  we 
have  no  reason  now  to  dpubt  the  sin- 
cerity. 

But  we  do  not  consider  this  as  prov- 
ing any  thing  against  the  genuineness 
or  worth  of  the  existing  Christianity. 
We  Consider  it  no  evidence  that  reli- 
gion has  deteriorated,  that  the  chris- 
tians of  OUT  own  day  stand  not  ready 
for  the  stake  which  their  forefathers 
braved.  The  stake  and  the  scaffold  are 
not  the  appointments  of  the  times:  it 
is  not  God's  will  that  the  believers  of 
this  generation  should  be  exposed  to 
the  same  trials  as  martyrs  and  confes- 
sors. And  we  reckon  it  a  great  princi- 
ple in  the  dealings  of  God  with  his 
church,  a  principle  clearly  laid  down 
in  the  words  of  our  text,  that  the  grace 
imparted  is  rigidly  proportioned  to  the 
emergence  :  so  that,  as  it  is  never  less, 
it  is  never  more,  than  sufTicds  for  the 
appointed  tribulation.  There  was  be- 
stowed upon  martyrs  the  strength  need- 
ful for  the  undergoing  martyrdom,  be- 
cause it  was  martyrdom  which  God 
summoned  them  to  encounter.  That 
strength  is  not  bestowed  upon  us,  be- 
cause it  is  not  martyrdom  which  God 
hath  called  us  to  face.  In  both  cases 
the  same  principle  is  acted  on,  "As 
thydays,  so  shall  thy  strength  be."  And 
this  principle  would  be  utterly  forgot- 
ten and  violated,  if  we,  who  live  in 
47 


370 


THE    PBOrOKTIO.X    OF    GKACE    TO    TRIAL. 


times  when  the  fires  of  persecution  no  1 
longer  blaze,  felt  ourselves  thoroughly 
furnished  for  the  dying  nobly  for  the 
truth.  But  then  we  can  be  confident 
that  the  principle  would  be  equally  pre- 
served, if  there  were  to  pass  a  great 
change  on  the  times,  and  the  profession 
of  Christianity  once  more  exposed  men 
to  peril  of  death.  We  have  no  fellow- 
ship with  that  feeling  which  we  often 
hear  expressed,  that  so  degenerate  is 
modern  Christianity,  that,  if  there  were 
a  return  of  persecution,  there  would 
be  no  revival  of  the  fine  heroism  which 
former  days  displayed.  We  believe  in- 
deed that  there  is  a  vast  deal  of  nomi- 
nal Christianity,  of  mere  outward  pro- 
fession, with  which  the  heart  has  no 
concern.  This  will  necessarily  be  the 
case  under  the  present  dispensation, 
whenever  Christianity  is  the  national 
religion,  adopted  by  a  country  as  the 
only  true  faith.  And  it  is  hardly  to  be 
questioned  that  a  great  part  of  this 
nominal  Christianity  would  altogether 
disappear  if  the  supposed  change  were 
brought  about.  What  men  have  not  re- 
ceived into  their  hearts,  they  cannot 
be  expected  to  defend  with  their  lives. 
But  we  speak  now  of  vital  Christianity, 
of  that  Christianity  which  is  allowed  to 
be  genuine,  but  presumed  to  be- weak. 
It  is  of  this  Christianity  that  the  me- 
lancholy suspicion  is  entertained,  that 
it  would  not  stand  an  onset  of  persecu- 
tion, but  would  prove  itself  a  recreant 
if  summoned  to  the  trials  of  confessors 
of  old.  And  it  is  this  suspicion  which 
we  consider  wholly  unwarranted,  and 
in  the^entertainment  of  which  Vv^e  have 
no  share  whatsoever.  We  regard  the 
suspicion  as  involving  an  utter  for- 
getfulness  of  the  principle  announced 
in  our  text,  and  as  proceeding  on  the 
supposition  that  God  might  be  expect- 
ed to  allow  such  an  accumulation  of 
grace  as  would  cause  us  to  have  in 
hand  full  provision  for  the  future.  But 
Avith  the  words  Avhich  we  are  consider- 
ing kept  steadily  in  mind,  we  could 
look  forward  to  a  return  of  persecution, 
with  a  confident  expectation  of  a  re- 
turn of  the  spirit  of  the  martyrs.  Be 
it  so,  that  the  best  christians  of  the  day 
seem  unprepared  for  the  surrender  of 
property,  tlie  submission  to  captivity, 
or  the  sacrifice  of  life.  They  neverthe- 
less have  in  them^  the  same  faith,  the 
same  in   nature,   if  not  in  degree,   as 


was  possessed  by  those  noble  ones  of 
old,  who  "  witnessed  a  good  confes- 
sion," and  whose  names  shed  undying 
lustre  on  the  annals  of  our  religion. 

And,  having  the  same  faith,  we  can 
be  sure  that  they  would  be  strength- 
ened for  the  meeting  all  such  trials  as 
God,  in  his  providence,  might  be  plea- 
sed to  appoint.  It  is  not  that  zeal  is 
extinguished,  that  love  has  departed, 
that  courage  has  perished.  It  is  not 
that  our  valleys  and  cities  are  indeed 
haunted  by  the  memory  of  such  as 
counted  all  things  "  loss  for  Christ," 
but  could  not  again  send  forth  defend- 
ers of  the  truth.  On  many  a  mountain- 
side would  the  servants  of  the  living 
God  asrain  congregate,  if  the  fiends  of 
persecution  were  once  more  Jet  loose. 
Scenes,  consecrated  by  the  remem- 
brance of  what  was  done  in  them  of 
old,  would  be  again  hallowed  by  the 
constancy  of  the  veteran  and  the  strip- 
ling, and  by  the  fine  exhibition  of  tor- 
ture despised,  and'  death  defied,  that 
the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  might  be 
upheld  in  their  purity.  .  We  should 
again  have  the  merchant,  willing  to  be 
stripped  of  his  every  possession,  and 
turned  a  beggar  on  the  world,  rather 
than  abjure  one  tittle  of  the  faith.  We 
should  again  have  the  tender  and  the 
weak,  the  woman  and  the  child,  who 
now  shrink  from  the  least  pain,  [and 
are  daunted  by  the  least  danger,  con- 
fronting the  fierce  and  the  powerful, 
and  refusing  to  deny  Christ,  though 
to  save  themselves  from  agony.  We 
should  again  have  the  dungeons  filled 
with  unflinching  men,  proof  equally 
against  threat  and  persuasion  ;  and  who, 
counting  religion  the  dearest  thing  of 
all,  would  neither  be  bribed  from  it  by 
an  empire,  nor  scared  from  it  by  death. 
And  we  venture  on  this  prophecy,  not 
from  any  confidence  in  the  natural  re- 
sources of  those  who  seem  unprepEired 
to  do  and  dare  nobly  for  the  truth.  It 
is  not  that  we  think  they  have  unde- 
veloped power,  which  would  be  brought 
out  by  exposure  to  trial.  It  is  only  that 
we  are  persuaded  that  God  accurately 
proportions  the  strength  to  the  circum- 
stances, communicating  his  grace  as 
the  difficulties  increase.  And  men  may 
look  back,  with  a  sort  of  despondency, 
to  times  when  righteousness  was  ifn- 
daunted  by  all  the  menaces  of  wicked- 
ness.   They  may  draw  a  reproachful 


THE    PROPORTION    OF    GRACE    TO    TKIAL. 


371 


contrast  between  the  Christianity  which 
was  cheerful  in  a  prison  and  confident 
on  a  scafTold,  and  -that  of  modern  days, 
which  seems  little  like  it  in  boldness 
and  disinterestedness.  But  we  see  no- 
thing in  the  contrast  but  evidence  that 
the  supplies  of  grace  are  proportioned 
to  the  need,  and  ground  of  assurance 
that  Christianity  now  would  be  what 
Christianity  w^as,  were  God  to  take  off 
his  restraints  from  the  enemies  of  his 
church.  Yes,  when  we  hear  it  said  that 
days  of  persecution  may  again  be  per- 
mitted, that  again  may  professing  the 
name  of  Christ  cause  exposure  to  all 
from  which  human  nature  shrinks,  we 
are  far  enough  from  having  before  us 
the  gloomy  spectacle  of  universal  apos- 
tacy.  The  imagery  which  the  state- 
ment brings  to  our  mind  is  that  of  un^ 
blenching  fortitude  and  high  daring 
and  christian  heroism :  there  is  the  cru- 
elty of  savage  and  bloodthirsty  men, 
but  there  is  also  the  constancy  of  meek 
and  single-hearted  believers  :  there  are 
the  emissaries  of  an  inquisition  hunt- 
ing down  the  righteous,  but  there  are 
the  righteous  themselves  holding  fast 
their  profession  :  the  dead  seem  to  live 
again,  the  ancient  worthies  have  their 
faithful  representatives,  the  mantle  of 
"the  noble  army  of  martyrs"  is  resting 
on  a  host  of  every  age  and  every  rank 
— and  all  because  God  hath  announced 
this  as  his  principle  in  his  dealing  with 
his  people,  "  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy 
strength  be." 

Now  we  have  learned,  from  our  in- 
tercourse with  christians  when  in  sick- 
ness, or  under  affliction,  that  it  is  prac- 
tically of  great  importance  to  insist  on 
the  truth  that  no  greater  measure  of 
grace  should  be  expected  than  is  suffi- 
cient for  present  duties  and  trials.  The 
passion  for  accumulation,  to  which  we 
have  so  often  referred,  is  to  be  traced 
in  men  who  are  busy  for  the  next  world, 
as  well  as  in  those  who  are  busy  only 
for  this.  As  he  who  is  gathering  perish- 
able wealth  is  not  content  with  the  sup- 
ply of  present  wants,  but  always  looks 
anxiously  to  future,  so  the  christian, 
though  possessing  what  is  needed  by 
his  actual  condition,  will  be  thinking 
of  what  would  be  necessary  if  that  con- 
dition were  worse.  And  we  are  certain, 
that,  both  in  temporal  and  spiritual 
things,  it  is  the  object  of  God  to  keep 
us  momentarily  dependent  on  himself. , 


We  allow  that,  in  temporal  things,  men 
seem  able  to  defeat  this  intention,  and 
to  acquire  something  that  might  pass 
for  independence.  But  this  is  only  in 
appearance  :  it  were  the  worst  infideli- 
ty which  should  contend  for  the  reali- 
ty. The  man  of  ample  property  may 
say  with  the  rich  fool  in  the  parable, 
"  Soul,  thou' hast  much  goods  laid  up 
for  many  years;"  but  you  must  all  be 
conscious  that  no  amount  of  wealth 
can  secure  its  possessor  against  want, 
if  God  saw  fit  to  strip  him  of  his  riches. 
It  is  only  in  appearance  that  the  man 
of  large  capital  is  better  provided  for 
to-morrow,  than  the  beggar  who  knows 
not  whither  to  turn  for  a  morsel  of 
bread :  you  have  simply  to  admit  that 
'^  the  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the  ful- 
ness thereof,"  and  you  admit  that  the 
opulent  individual  and  the  destitute 
are  alike  dependent  upon  God,  that  by 
to-morrow  they  may  have  virtually 
changed  places,  the  opulent  being  in 
beggary,  and  the  destitute  in  abun- 
dance. 

But  in  spiritual  things,  the  distribu- 
tion of  which  God  keeps  more  visibly, 
though  not  more  actually,  in  his  own 
hands,  there  is  not  even  the  appear- 
ance of  our  having  the  power  to  be  in- 
dependent. We  can  have  only  such 
measure  of  grace  as  God  is  pleased  to 
bestow ;  and  it  may  be  withdrawn  or 
continued,  increased  or  diminished,  en- 
tirely at  his  pleasure  who  "  holdeth 
our  souls  in  life."  But  nevertheless 
there  may  be  a  craving  for  a  larger 
measure  of  grace  than  suffices  for  pre- 
sent duties,  just  as  there  may  be  for  a 
larger  measure  of  wealth  than  suffices 
for  present  wants.  And  if  there  may 
be  this  craving,  there  may  be  also  a 
dissatisfied  and  uncomfortable  feeling, 
if  the  larger  measure  of  grace  should 
not  seem  bestowed.  Whereas,  if  we 
may  use  a  very  .homely  expression,  it 
is  not  God's  method  to  allow  us  a  stock 
of  grace,  to  be  kept  in  reserve  for  oc- 
casions which  may  arise.  The  petition 
in  the  Lord's  prayer  seems  applicable 
to  spiritual  as  well  as  to  temporal  food, 
"  Give  us  day  by  day  our  daily  bread." 
What  we  are  taught  to  ask  is  what  we 
may  hope  to  receive  ;  and  we  are  not 
to  ask  to-day  for  the  bread  for  to-mor- 
row :  we  are  to  be  content  with  to- 
day's supply,  and  to  wait  till  to-mor- 
row before  we  sjpeak  of  its  wants.  Nei- 


372 


THE    PRorORTIO.'^    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


ther  may"  we  think  that  it  was  without  clc."  And  wc  have  no  wish,  at  any 
a  great  spiritual  meaning  that  Christ  i  time,  to  represent  death  as  other  than 
delivered  the  maxim,  "  t^ufficient  un-  i  an  enemy,  nor  its  assault  as  other  than 
to  the  day  is  the  evil' thereof,"  and  i  necessarily  terrible  to  our  nature.  It 
jrrounJed  on  it  a  direction  to  his  dis-  i  is  vain  to  try  to  make  death  desirable 
ciples,  that  they  should  "  take  no  i  in  itself:  it  is  a  remnant  of  the  origi- 
thought  for  the  morrow."  We  do  not  nal  curse;  a  remnant  for  whose  final 
suppose  that  he  forbade  prudence  and  |  removal  there  has  been  made  abun- 
forethought,  but  only  undue  anxiety,  dant  provision,  but  which,  whilst  yet 
with  respect  to  the  future  and  its  ne- !  unrepealed,  must  press  grievously  even 
cessities.    There  are  passages  enough    on  the  best  of  mankind.    In  what  way. 


in  Scripture  from  which  to  show,  that 
it  is  not  the  part  of  a  christian  to  make 
no  provision  for  after  days,  as  tliough 
his  wants  were  to  be  supplied  without 
his  using  means.  But  we  believe  that 
there  are  respects  in  which  we  ought 
to  act  literally  on  the  saying,  "  Suffi- 
cient unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 


then,  would  we  strive  to  encourage 
those  christians  who  are  distressed 
with  apprehensions  of  death  1  Simply 
by  telling  thbm  that  they  do  v/rong  in 
thinking  of  the  future,  and  that  it  is 
both  their  duty  and  interest  to  confine 
themselves  to  the  present.  Are  they 
enabled  to  bear  the   trials  of  tOrday,, 


We  believe  that  sufficient  unto  the  day  ,  the-  trials  whether  of  sickness  or  sor 
are  its  trials  and  burdens;  and  that,  irowl  Enough:  "Sufficient  unto  the 
if  a  man  find  himself  enabled  to  bear  'day  is  the  evil  thereof;"  still  "wait 
these,  he  has  no  right  to  complain  at  j  upon  the  Lord;"  and  if  to-morrow 
not  feejing  able  to  bear  heavier.  Suffi-  bring  heavier  trials,  to-morrow  will 
cient  unto  the  day  are  its  trials,  be-  j  bring  greater  strength.  But  we  feel 
cause  the  strength  bestowed  is  accu-  i  unprepared  for  death,  we  shrink  from 
ratelv  proportioned  to  those  trials;  and    the  thought  of  death.    Be  it  so  ;  to  die 


therefore  we  ought  not  to  harass  our 
selves  by  imagining  our  trials  increas- 
ed, and  then  mournfully  inferring  that 
■we  should  sink  beneath  their  weight. 
And  yet  this  is  a  very  common  .form 
of  the  disquietude  of  christians.  A  pa- 
rochial minister  constantly  meets  with 
this  case  in  his  pastoral  visitations. 
Men  are  fond  of  supposing  themselves 
placed  in  such  or  such  circumstances; 


is  not  your  present  business,  to  live  is 
your  present  business.  And  it  is  strict- 
ly to  your  present  business  that  God 
proportions  your  present  grace.  You 
are  wishing  to  have  already  in  your 
possession  the  strength  for  dying  ;  but 
this  is  vir.tually  to  wish  that  God  would 
allow  you  to  accumulate,  and  thus  to 
be  provided  beforehand  with  all  that 
may   be    needed    for    trials    to    come. 


and  because  they  do  not  feel  as  though  t  And  God  loves  you  too  well  to  give  you 
their  faith  and  fortitude  were  equal  to  j  even  this  image  or  shadow  of  indepen- 


the  circumstances,  they  draw  unfavor 
able  conclusions  as  to  their  spiritual 
state.  It  is  thus,  for  example,  that  they 
fetch  material  of  uneasiness  from  the 
registered  actions  and  endurances  of 
safnts  :  they  do  not  feel  as  if  they  could 
brave  martyrdom ;  and  therefore  are 
they  confounded  by  the  history  of  mar- 
tyrs,   though    it   ought    to    encourage 


dence.  He  knows  it  essential  to  your 
spiritual  well-being  that  you  should 
hang  upon  him  from  moment  to  mo- 
ment ;  he  knows  also  that  this  you 
could  hardly  do,  if  grace  were  so  sup- 
plied that  you  had  more  in  hand  than 
sufficed  for  to-day.  Be  thankful  that 
you  have  now  strength  enough  for 
what   you    are    called  to  do  and   en- 


them,  as  proving  that  God  will  not  |  dure;  be  confident  that  you  shall  have 
suffer  men  to  be  tempted  "above  that  j  strength  enough  for  all  that  you  may 
ihey  arc  able."  I  hereafter  be  called  to  do  and  endure. 

And  the  same  occurs  very  frequent- j  The  one  is  a  pledge  of  the  other; 
ly  in  reference  to  death.  There  are  I  that  experience  verifies  our  text  now, 
many  christians  who  are  harassed  by  \  should  persuade  you  that  experience 
a  o-reat  dread  of  death,  a  dread  of  the    will  verify  it  in  time  yet  to  come 


mere  act  of  dying ;  and  who  may  be 
said  to  go  heavily  half  their  days, 
through  fear  of  the    taking   down  of 


We  wish  that  we  could  prevail  upon 
you  all  thus  to  submit  to  the  present, 
without  being  troubled  as  to  the  future. 


heir  "  earthly  house  of  this  taberna-  j  Wc  are  sure  that  a  great  part  of  the 


THE    PROPORTION    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


373 


anxiety  of  christians  is  anxiety  as  to 
trials  and  duties  which  are  not  allotted 
them,  but  which  possibly  may  be.  They 
imagine,   as   we   before   said,   circum- 
stances, and    are    disquieted   because 
those    circumstances    seem    to    over- 
match their  strength.    The  mother  will 
gaze  on  her  favorite  child  ;  and,  in  the 
midst  of  her  gladness,  a  shade  of  mel- 
ancholy will  pass  across  her  brow,  at 
the    thought   that    this    child  may   be 
taken  from  her  by  death.     Her  feeling 
is,  I  could   not   bear  to   lose   him;    it 
would  go  far  to  break  my  heart  ;  were 
God  to  appoint  me  that  trial,  it  would 
be  too  much  for  my  patience  and  re- 
signation.   But  what  has  the  mother  to 
do  with  thus   imasfiningf  her  child   as 
snatchedaway  from  her  embrace,  whilst 
he  is  before  her  in  all  the  buoyancy  of 
health  1     It  may  be  that  she  does  not 
now  feel  as  though  she  could  submit 
with  meekness  to  his  loss.    But  his  loss 
is  not  what   she   is  now  called  to  en- 
dure ;  and  she  does  wrong  in  examin- 
ing  her   faith    by    its   ability   to    bear 
Avhat  is  only  possible,  and  not  actual. 
In  like  manner,  a  man  feels,  and  is  dis- 
tressed by  the  feeling,   that  he  could 
not  now  meet  death  with  composure 
and  assurance.     What  of  that  1  has  he 
reason  to  believe  himself  on  his  death- 
bed \  if  not,  he  has  no  right  to  expect 
the  death-bed  strength,  and  therefore 
none  to  be  disturbed  at  its  wants.   And, 
oh,  it  is  very  beautiful  to  observe  how 
those  who  have  suffered  their  present 
peace  to  be  ruffled  by  anticipated  trials, 
have  found  their  fears  groundless,  and 
have  gone  bravely  through  the  trouble 
from  the  thought  of  which  they  shrank. 
The  blow  has  come  upon  the  mother, 
and  that  sweet  child  has  sickened  and 
died.    But  the  trial  has  not  exceeded 
the  mother's  strength :  she  has  found 
herself  so  sustained  that  she  has  even 
been  able  to  "rejoice  in  tribulation;" 
and  she  has  laid  in  the  grave,  ahnost 
without  a  tear,  and  certainly  without  a 
murmur,  the  little  one  whom  she  had 
pillowed    delightfully    on    her    breast. 
And  the  hour  of  departure  has  been  at 
hand  to  that  christian  who  has  been 
harassed  by  a  fear  of  dissolution;  but 
where  have  been  the  anticipated  ter- 
rors ?    Has  he  been  the  timid,  stricken, 
shuddering   thing  which   he   had  pic- 
tured himself  when  looking  forward  to 
the  last  scene  1    On  the  contrary  he 


has  met  the  dreaded  enemy  with  per- 
fect tranquillity  ;  with  the  dying  patri- 
arch he  has  "  gathered  up  his  feet  in- 
to the  bed,"  and  has  meekly  exclaimed, 
"  I  have  waited  for  thy  salvation,  O 
Lord."  And  what  are  we  to  say  to 
these  registered  instances,  instances 
whose  frequency  might  be  attested  by 
every  minister  of  the  Gospel]  What 
but  that  there  is  a  continual  acting  on 
the  principle  of  our  text,  that  it  is  not 
God's  method  to  provide  us  before- 
hand for  a  trial,  but  that  it  is  his  me- 
thod to  do  enough  for  his  people  when 
the  trial  has  come "?  Yes,  if  we  can 
indeed  prove  that  the  burden  which,  at 
a  distance,  threatened  to  crush  us,  has 
not  been  too  heavy ;  that  the  waters 
which  seemed  likely  to  overwhelm  us 
have  not  been  too  deep — if  there  be 
abundant  demonstration  that  what  men 
have  felt  unequal  to  when  it  was  not 
their  portion,  they  have  endured  ex- 
cellently when  it  has  fallen  to  their  lot ; 
sorrows,  whose  name  scared  them,  not 
having  exhausted  their  patience,  and 
pains,  at  whose  mention  they  quivered, 
having  been  borne  with  a  smile,  and 
even  death  itself,  whose  image  had  long 
appalled  them,  having  laid  aside  its 
terrors  when  actually  at  hand — will  it 
not  be  confessed  that  God  wondrous- 
ly  makes  good  the  declaration,  "As 
thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be  1" 

And  this  appeal  to  experienice  might 
be  made  by  most  christians,  even  if 
they  had  no  history  but  their  own  from 
which  to  gather  proof.  If  it  were  not 
that  we  receive  blessings  and  deliver- 
ances, and  then  forget  them,  or  fail  to 
treasure  theni  up  as  choice  proofs  of 
divine  favor,  it  could  not  be  that  many 
amongst  us,  after  years  and  years  of 
professed  fellowship  with  God,  would 
be  as  much  dismayed  by  the  prospect 
of  new  trials,  or  as  much  disheartened 
by  the  pressure  of  -new  burdens,  as 
though  they  had  known  nothing  of  the 
supports  and  consolations  which  the 
Almighty  can  aflbrd.  If  there  were  any 
thing  like  a  diligent  remembrance  of 
our  mercies,  a  counting  up  of  the  in- 
stances in  which  God  has  been  better 
to  us  than  our  fears,  in  which  he  has 
interposed  when  Ave  were  perplexed, 
sustained  us  when  we  were  falling, 
comforted  us  when  we  were  sorrow- 
ful, it  would  be  hard  to  say  how  there 
could  be  place  for  anxiety,  whatever 


374. 


THE    PROPORTION    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


the  clouds  which  might  be  gathering 
round  our  path.    Let   mercies  be  re- 
membered  as   well   as  ^  enjoyed,    and 
they  must  be  as  lights  in  our  dark  days, 
and  as  shields  in  our  perilous.    If  I  find 
a  believer  in  Christ  cast  down,  because' 
exposed  to  some  vehement  temptation, 
or  placed  in  circumstances  which  de- 
mand more  than  common  spiritual  firm- 
ness, I  would  tell  this  man  that  he  has 
no  right  to  look  thus  gloomily  on  the 
future;  he  is  bound  to  look  also  on  the 
past ;    can  he    remember    no    former 
temptations  from  which  he  came  out 
a   conqueror,    no    seasons    of  danger 
when   God    showed   himself  "a  very 
present  helpl"  and  what  then  has  he 
to  do  but  to  "  gird  up  the  loins  of  his 
mindl"    despair  may  be  for  those,  if 
such  can  be  found,  for  whom  nothing 
has  been  done  :  but  a  man  whose  his- 
tory is  virtually  a  history  of  deliver- 
ances,   should  regard  that   history  as 
equally  a  prophecy  of  deliverances,  a 
prophecy  from   God,   God  who  alone 
can  predict  and  is  sure  to  fulfil,  that 
the  strength  shall  be  as  the  day.    And 
wherefore,    moreover,    is   it,    son    or 
daiighter  of  sorrow,  that  a  discipline 
of  suffering  has  not  strengthened  thee 
in  faith "?     We  might  think  that   thou 
hadst  never  been  in  the  furnace  of  af- 
fliction, to  see  how  thou  dost  shrink 
from  entering  it  again.    And  yet  there 
are  those  of  you  who,  like  the  three 
Jewish  youths,  have   come   forth    un- 
harmed, seeing  that  one  "  like  unto  the 
Son  of  God"  has  been  Avith  them  in 
the  midst  of  the   flames.     Take  again 
the   case   of  a   mother:    if   she    have 
lost   a  child,  and  yet  been   enabled  to 
exclaim   when  that  child  was  carried 
forth  to  burial,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away,  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord,"  what  right  has 
sheto  be  dismayed  if  another  child  seem 
sickening,  as   though  about  to  follow 
its  brother  or  its  sister  1     \\  hy  should 
the  mother  recoil  from  the  new  trial, 
as  if  she  felt  that  it  would  certainly  be 
more  than  she  could  bear'?  Let  her  go 
to  the  grave  of  her  dead  child,  that  she 
may  learn  patience  in  tending  the  couch 
of  the  living.    Did  not  God    comfort 
her  in  her  former  afllictionl    Did  he 
not  speak  soothingly  to  her  when  ma- 
ternal anguish  was  strong  ?    "What  then 
has  she  to  do  with  despondency'?    The 
form  of  her  buried  child   might  well 


rise  before  her,  and  look  at  her  with  a 
look  never  worn  in  life,  a  look  of  up- 
braiding and  reproach,  if  she  fail  to 
remember,  as  the  hectic  spot  appears 
on  another  young  cheek,  how  the  Lord 
hath  said,  "  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy 
strength  be."  The  widow  again,  from 
whom  God  hath  removed  the  chief 
earthly  prop  and  guardian;  but  who 
was  mercifully  strengthened,  when  her 
husband's  eyes  closed  in  death,  to 
look  calmly  on  her  boys  and  girls,  and 
to  bid  them  not  weep,  for  that  a  Migh- 
ty One  had  declared  himself  "  the  hus- 
band of  the  widow  and  the  father  of 
the  fatherless,"  what  cause  has  she  to 
be  afterwards  dismayed,  when  difii- 
culties  thicken,  and  the  providing  for 
her  family  seems  beyond  her  power 
and  even  her  hope '?  Let  her  travel 
back  in  thoughts  to  the  first  moments 
of  her  widowhood,  let  her  remember 
the  gracious  things  that  were  whis- 
pered to  her  spirit,  when  human  com- 
forters could  avail  nothing  against  the 
might  of  her  sorrow;  and  will  not  her 
own  experience  rise  as  a  witness  a- 
gainst  her,  if  she  gather  not  confidence 
from  what  is  treasured  in  memory,  if 
she  exclaim  not  to  the  God  who  bound 
up  the  wounded  heart,  thou  wilt  again 
make  good  thine  own  word,  "  As  thy 
days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be '?" 

It  is  in  this  way  that  we  would  have 
you  live  over  again  times  and  scenes 
of  extraordinary  mercy,  that  you  may 
be  nerved  for  extraordinary  trial.  We 
often  hear  it  recommended  that  chris- 
tians should  study  the  histories  of  emi- 
nent saints,  in  order  that,  through  ob- 
serving the  deliverances  wrought  for 
others,  they  may  be  encouraged  to  ex- 
pect deliverances  for  themselves.  'And 
the  recommendation  is  good.  There 
is  no  more  profitable  reading  than  that 
of  the  lives  of  men  distinguished  by 
their  piety.  It  is  likely  to  suggest  to 
us  our  own  inferiority,  to  animate  us 
to  greater  diligence  in  running  the 
christian  race,  and,  by  proving  to  us 
how  God's  promises  have  been  fulfil- 
led, to  lead  us  to  a  firmer  reliance  on 
his  word.  And  accordingly  we  have 
great  pleasure,  if,  in  visiting  the  pious 
cottager,  we  find  that  in  addition  to 
the  Bible,  which  is  emphatically  the 
poor  man's  library,  he  has  on  his  shelf 
some  pieces  of  christian  biography, 
the  histories  of  certain  of  those  devot- 


THE    PROPORTION    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


375 


cd  servants  of  God  who  were  "  burn- 
ing and  shining"  lights  in  their  gene- 
ration, and  who  bequeathed  their  me- 
mory as  a  rich  legacy  to  posterity. 
But  there  is  a  book  which  we  are  yet 
more  anxious  that  the  pious  cottager 
should  study,  a  book  which  he  may 
possess  and  peruse,  though  he  have 
not  a  single  printed  volume  in  his 
dwelling,  nor  scholarship  enough  to 
read  it,  even  if  he  had.  And  this  is 
the  book  of  his  own  experience.  This 
is  the  book  on  whose  pages  are  in- 
scribed what  the  Almighty  God  hath 
done  for  himself.  There  is  not  the 
converted  man  who  has  not  such  a 
book.  The  title-page  may  be  said  to 
have  been  written  on  the  day  of  con- 
version ;  and  there  is  scarce  a  day  af- 
terward which  does  not  add  a  leaf. 
And  a  page  out  of  this  book  is  prac- 
tically worth  whole  printed  volumes. 
It  may  not  be  stamped  with  so  surpris- 
ing a  history  as  those  volumes  could 
furnish :  but  then  it  is  the  history  of 
the  reader  himself,  and  therefore  has 
a  reality  and  a  convincingness  which 
scarce  any  other  can  have.  The  stu- 
dent of  the  volume  of  memory  knows 
thoroughly  well  that  there  is  nothing 
exaggerated,  nothing  fictitious,  in  any 
of  its  statements:  so  that  there  is  such 
an  air  of  truth  thrown  over  the  biogra- 
phy, as  can  hardly  adorn  the  narrative 
of  a  stranger,  which  is  almost  sure  to 
seem  romantic  in  proportion  as  it  is 
wonderful.  And  besides  this,  you  can 
scarcely  put  yourself  into  the  position 
of  the  stranger:  you  imagine  a  thou- 
sand circumstances  of  difference  which 
forbid  your  identifying  your  case  with 
his,  and  inferring  what  God  will  do  for 
you  from  what  he  has  done  for  him. 
Hence  there  is  more  of  encouragement 
in  the  least  blessing  bestowed  on  our- 
selves, than  in  the  greatest  on  a  stran- 
ger. On  every  account,  therefore,  we 
may  safely  say  that  a  whole  library  of 
biographical  works,  and  those,  too,  re- 
lating exclusively  to  righteous  individu- 
als, could  not  so  minister  to  the  assur- 
ance of  a  believer  as  the  documents 
which  his  own  memory  can  furnish. 
These  then  should  often  engage  his  stu- 
dy, whether  he  be  the  rich  or  the  poor. 
We  would  have  you  give  unto  your 
mercies  an  imperishable  character.  ^V  e 
would  have  you  engrave  them,  not  up- 
on the  marble,  and  not  upon  the  brass, 


but  upon  the  tablets  of  your  own 
minds;  and  we  would  have  you  watch 
the  sculpture,  that  not  a  solitary  letter 
be  obliterated.  If  Samuel,  when  the 
Israelites  had  won  a  victory  over  the 
Philistines,  set  up  a  commemorative 
stone,  and  called  it  Ebenezer,  saying, 
"  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord  helped  us," 
where  are  your  monumental  pillars, 
carved  with  the  story  of  what  God 
hath  done  for  your  safety  and  com- 
fort 1  Oh,  by  every  tear  which  God 
hath  wiped  from  your  eyes,  by  every 
anxiety  which  he  has  soothed,  by  every 
fear  which  he  has  dispelled,  by  every 
want  which  he  has  supplied,  by  every 
mercy  which  he  has  bestowed,  strength- 
en yourselves  for  all  that  awaits  you 
through  the  remainder  of  your  pilgrim- 
asre  :  look  onwards,  if  it  must  be  so, 
to  new  trials,  to  increased  perplexities, 
yea,  even  to  death  itself:  but  look  on 
Avhat  is  past  as  well  as  on  what  is  to 
come  ;  and  you  will  be  enabled  to  say  of 
Him  in  whose  hand  are  your  times,  his 
future  dealings  will  be,  what  his  former 
have  been,  fulfilments  of  the  promise, 
"As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be." 

Now  up  to  this  point  we  have  been 
professedly  considering  only  the  cau- 
tion which  christians  should  derive 
from  our  text :  but  we  have  been  in- 
sensibly drawn  into  speaking  of  the 
comfort,  to  which  we  had  proposed 
to  devote  the  concluding  part  of  our 
discourse.  It  would  not  be  very  easy 
to  keep  the  two  quite  distinct :  but  you 
will  observe  that  we  have  given  great 
prominence  to  the  caution,  and  that  it 
is  one  which,  if  you  value  your  spiritu- 
al peace,  you  will  do  well  to  appropri- 
ate to  yourselves.  The  caution  is,  that 
christians  should  never  try  themselves 
by  supposed  circumstances,  but  always 
by  their  actual :  if  they  have  the  grace 
requisite  for  present  trials  and  duties, 
they  have  all  which  God  has  covenant- 
ed to  bestow,  and  must  neither  mur- 
mur, nor  wonder,  if  he  do  not  bestow 
more.  God  is  faithful,  if  he  give  suffi- 
cient for  to-day  ;  man. is  sinful,  if  unea- 
sy because  unprovided  for  tomorrow. 

But  when  we  have  taken  to  ourselves 
the  caujion,  how  abundant  is  the  com- 
fort which  the  text  should  supply;  at 
the  risk  of  repetition,  let  us  dwell  for  a 
few  moments  on  what  a  christian,  in  a 
world  of  wo,  cannot  weary  of  hearing. 
We  must  necessarily  admit  that   our 


376 


THE    PROPORTION    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


present  condition  is  one  of  exposure  to 
difficulty  and  disaster.  It  is  not  a  mere 
poetic  expression,  it   is  the   sober  as- 
sertion of  melancholy  fact,  when  Job 
exclaims,  "Although  affliction  cometh 
not  forth  of  the  dust,  neither  doth  trou- 
ble spring  out  of  tlie  groimd,  yet  man 
is  born  unto  trouble,  as  the   sparks  fly 
upwards."  As  a  direct  consequence  on 
our    being    fallen    creatures,   much  of 
bitterness  is    mixed  with  our  portion  ; 
whilst    moreover   it    seems    necessary 
for  the  ends  of  moral  discipline,  that 
we  should  have    to    encounter   disap- 
pointments and  sorrows.    But  then  it 
is  a  just  expectation,   that  Christianity, 
the  system  devised  by  God  for  the  re- 
pair of  the  injuries  wrought  by  trans- 
gression, will  contain  much  to  mitigate 
the  griefs  of  human  life.     And  it   is 
hardly  needful  for  us  to  say  how  tho- 
roughly   this    expectation    is   fulfilled. 
Christianity  does  not  indeed  offer  ex- 
emption from   trouble,  even   to  those 
most  sincere  and  earnest  in  its  profes- 
sion.    The  best  christian  must  expect 
his  share  of  such  troubles  as  are  the 
lot   of  humanity — nay,    he    may   even 
have  a  greater  than  the  ordinary  por- 
tion, inasmuch  as  there  are  ends,  in  his 
case,  to  be  observed  by  affliction,  which 
exist  not  in  that  of  one  at  enmity  with  ' 
God.    But  it    is  beautiful    to   observe  I 
how  little  there  would  be  that  could  be  j 
regarded  as  unhappiness  amongst  chris-  [ 
tians,  if  they  made  full  use  of  the  sup-  ! 
ports  and  consolations  provided  by  the  j 
Gospel.    If  a  man  had   only  thorough 
faith  in  the  declaration  of  our  text  :  if 
he  would  apply  that  declaration  to  his 
own  case,  in  both  its  caution  and  its 
comfort,  he  could  neither  be  overborne 
by  existing  trouble,  nor  be  dismayed  by 
prospective.    To  those  who  "  wait  up- 
on  the  Lord"  there    is   always    given 
strength  adequate  to   the  trials,  of  to- 
day, and  there  ought  to  be  no  anxiety 
as   to   the  trials  of  to-morrow.    They 
have  not  already  in  hand  the  grace  that 
may   be  needed  for  future  duties  and 
dangers  ;  but  they  know  it  to  be  in  bet-  ; 
ter  keeping  than  their  own,  and  cer-  I 
tain  to  be  furnished  precisely  when  re-  i 
quired.  0  the  peace  which  a  true  chris-  i 
lian  might  possess,  if  he  would  take  i 
God  at  iiis  word,  and  trust  him  to  make  1 
good  his  promises.    It  is  hard  to  say  i 
what  could  then  ruffle  him,  or  what,  at 
least,  could  permanently  disturb.    Day  I 


by  day  his  duties  might  be  more  ardu- 
ous, his  temptations  stronger,  his  tri- 
als more  severe.  But  he  would  ascer- 
tain that  the  imparted  strength  grew 
at  the  same  rate,  so  that  he  was  always 
equal  to  the  duties,  victorious  over  the 
temptations,  and  sustained  under  the 
trials.  As  it  is,  you  will  find,  as  we 
have  already  more  than  once  observed, 
that  the  greatest  part  of  the  uneasiness 
and  unhappiness  which  christians  ex- 
perience springs  from  the  future  rather 
than  the  present.  There  will,  of  course,' 
be  absorbing  moments,  in  passing 
through  which  the  soul  will  be  so  en- 
grossed by  the  immediate  events  as  to 
have  no  thought  for  those  which  may 
follow.  But  the  ordinary  disposition  is 
towards  anticipating  whilst  enduring, 
so  that  the  actual  pressure  is  increased 
by  the  fears  and  forebodings  of  things 
in  reserve  And  it  is  quite  natural  that 
such  should  be  the  case.  That  she  is 
always  anticipating,  always  stretching 
into  the  future,  is  the  soul's  sfreat  wit- 
ness  to  herself  of  her  being  immortal. 
It  is  nature's  voice,  strenuously  giving 
testimony  to  another  stale  of  being. 
But  when  the  principle  of  faith  has  been 
divinely  implanted,  it  ought,  in  certain 
cases  and  degrees,  to  keep  under  this 
proneness  to  anticipate.  It  cannot  re- 
press the  soarings  of  the  spirit,  the 
mysterious  wanderings,  the  gazings  at 
far-off  possibilities :  and  it  would  not 
be  for  our  happiness,  it  would  only  be 
for  our  degradation,  that  the  soul's 
wings  should  be  confined  and  her  vision 
limited,  so  that  she  could  neither  tra- 
vel nor  look  beyond  the  scenes  of  to- 
day. But  faith  ought  so  to  people  all 
the  future  with  the  presence,  the  guar- 
dianship, the  love,  and  the  faithfulness 
of  God,  that  the  soul,  in  her  journeyings 
and  her  searchings,  should  find  no 
cause  for  anxiety  and  no  ground  for  fear. 
This  is  the  privilege,  end  this  should 
be  the  aim  of  the  christian,  not  to  shut 
out  the  future,  as  though  he  dared  not 
look  on  what  it  may  contain  j  but  to 
take  the  future,  as  well  as  the  present, 
as  his  own  ;  to  feel  that  the  same  God 
inhabits  both,  and  that,  wheresoever 
God  is,  there  must  be  safety  for  his 
people.  But  alas,  through  the  weak- 
ness of  their  faith,  christians  live  far 
belov.r  their  privilege;  and  hence,  when 
they  look  into  the  future,  it  seems  full 
of  boiling  forms  and  threatening  sha- 


THE    PROFORTIO.X    OF    GRACE    TO    TRIAL. 


377 


dows  ;  and  the  survey  only  makes  them 
less    resolute  under   present   troubles, 
and  less  alive  to  present  mercies.    If 
this  be  a  just  description  of  any  amongst 
yourselves,   we  beseech  them  to  give 
great  attention  to  our  text,  and  to  strive 
to  base  a  rule  for  their  practice  on  the 
principle   which   it  announces  as  per- 
vading God's  dealings.   We  say  to  you 
with  respect  to  your  duties,  ''  as  thy 
days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be."     The 
christian,  when  in  health,  fears  that  he 
should  not  bear  sickness  as  he  ought; 
in  sickness  he  fears,  that,  if  restored  to 
health,  he  should  not  keep  his   vows 
and  resolutions:  when  not  exposed  to 
much    temptation,    he    fears    that    he 
should  fall  if  he  were  ;  when  apparent- 
ly tasked  to  the  utmost,  he  fears  that 
exemption  would  only  generate  sloth. 
But  let  him  be  of  good  cheer:  our  text 
is  a  voice  from  the  unknown  futurity, 
and  should  inspire  him  with  confidence. 
Sickness  may  be  at  hand,  but  so  also  is 
the   strength   for    sickness ;  and   thou 
shalt  be  enabled  to  take  thy  sickness 
patiently.    You  may  be  just  recovering 
from  sickness  ;  and  life — for  it  is  often 
harder  to  face  life  than  death  ;  he  who 
felt  nerved  to  die,  may  be  afraid  to  live 
— life  may  be  coming  back  upon  you 
with  its  long  array  of  difficulties,  and 
toils,    and    dangers;   but   be    of   good 
cheer,  the  Author  of  life  is  the  Author 
of  grace  ;  he  who  renews  thQ  one  will 
impart  the  other,  that  your  days  may 
be  spent  in  his  service.    And  sorrows 
may  be  multiplied  ;  yes,  I  cannot  look 
on    this   congregation,    composed    of 
young  and  old,  of  parents  and  children, 
of  husbands  and  wives,  of  brothers  and 
sisters,  without  feeling  that  much  bit- 
terness is  in  store.  I  can  see  far  enough 
into  the  future,  to  discern  many  fune- 
ral   processions    winding    from    your 
doors :  I  miss  well-known  face's  from 
the  weekly  assembly,  and  the  mourn- 
ful habits  of  other  parts  of  the  family 
explain  but  too  sadly  the  absence.  But 
be  of  good  cheer  :  the  widow  shall  not 
be  desolate,  the  fatherless  'shall  not  be 
deserted  ;  when  the  grave  opens,  there 
shall  be  the  opening  of  fresh  springs  of 
comfort ;  when  the  clouds  gather,  there 
shall   be   the   falling   of  fresh  dews  of 
grace  ;   for  heaven  and  earth  may  pass 
away,  but  no  jot,  and  no  tittle,  of  the 
■promise   can   fail.     "As   thy   days,    so 
shall  thy  strength  be." 


And  if  you  ask  proof  that  we  are  not 
too  bold  in  our  prophecy,  we  might  ap- 
peal, as  we  have  already  appealed,  to 
the  registered  experience  whether  of 
the  living  or  the  dead.  This  experience 
will  go  yet  further,  and  bear  us  out  in 
predicting  peace  in  death  as  well  as 
support  through  life.  I  have  to  pass 
through  the  trial  from  which  nature  re- 
coils :  the  earthly  house  must  be  taken 
down,  and  the  soul  struggle  away  from 
the  body,  and  appear  at  the  tribunal  of 
my  Judge.  How  shall  I  feel  at  such  a 
moment  as  this  1  Indeed  I  dare  not  con- 
jecture. The  living  know  not,  cannot 
know,  what  it  is  to  die  :  we  must  un- 
dergo, before  we  can  imagine,  the  act 
of  dissolution  :  life  is  an  enigma  in  its 
close,  as  in  its  commencement;  we 
cannot  remember  what  it  was  to  enter, 
we  cannot  anticipate  what  it  will  be  to 
quit  this  lower  world.  Yet  if  there  be 
strength  and  collectedness  in  that  fear- 
ful extremity  to  meditate  of  God,  "  my 
meditation  of  him  shall  be  sweet."  f 
shall  remember  that  God  hath  prom- 
ised to  ''  swallow  up  death  in  victory  ;" 
and  that  what  he  hath  promised  he  will 
surely  perform.  May  I  not,  therefore, 
be  glad  in  the  Lord  ?  The  things  that 
are  temporal  are  fading  from  the  view ; 
but  the  things  that  are  eternal  already 
crowd  upon  the  vision.  The  minister- 
ing spirits  wait  to  conduct  me  ;  the 
heavenly  minstrelsy  sends  me  notes  of 
gracious  invitation  ;  one  more  thought 
of  God  as  my  Father  and  Friend,  one 
more  prayer  to  *'  the  Resurrection  and 
the  Life,"  and  I  am  in  the  presence  of 
Him  who  has  never  failed  in  accom- 
plishing his  word  to  his  people.  Bear 
witness,  yes,  we  must  appeal  to  the  in- 
habitants of  heavenly  places,  to  glori- 
fied spirits  who  have  fought  the  last 
fight,  and  now  "  rest  from  their  labors." 
We  will  ask  them  how  they  prevailed 
in  the  combat  with  death  ;  how,  weak 
and  worn  as  they  were,  they  held  fast 
their  confidence  in  the  hour  of  disso- 
lution, and  achieved  a  victory,  and 
soared  to  happiness!  Listen  for  their 
answer:  the  ear  of  faith  may  catch  it, 
though  it  be  not  audible  by  the  organ 
of  sense.  We  were  weak  in  ourselves  ; 
we  entered  the  dark  valley,  to  all  ap- 
pearance unprepared  for  wrestling  with 
the  terrors  with  which  it  seemed 
thronged.  But  wonderfully  did  God 
fulfil  his  promises.  He  was  with  us ; 
48 


378 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS- 


and  he  ministered  whatever  was  neces- 
sary to  the  sustaining  our  faith  and  se- 
curing our  safety.  And  now,  be  ye  ani- 
mated by  our  experience.  If  ye  would 
win  our  crown,  and  share  our  gladness, 
persevere  in  simple  reliance  upon  Him 


who  is  alone  "  able  to  keep  you  from 
falling ;"  and  ye  also  shall  find  that 
there  is  no  season  too  full  of  dreariness 
and  difficulty  for  the  accomplishment 
of  the  words,  "  As  thy  days,  so  shall 
.thy  strength  be." 


SERMON   X. 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS- 


"  Hear  ye,  O  mountains,  the  Lord's  controversy,  and  ye  strong  foundations  of  the  earth :  for  the  Lorj 
hath  a  controversy  with  his  people,  and  he  will  plead  with  Israel.  O  my  people,  what  have  I  done 
unto  thee?  and  wherein  have  I  wearied  thee?  testify  against  me." — Micah,  6  ;  2,  3. 


Amongst  all  the  pathetic  expostula- 
tions and  remonstrances  which  occur 
in  the  writings  of  the  prophets,  none 
ever  seems  to  us  so  touching  as  this, 
which  is  found  in  the  first  chapter  of 
the  book  of  Isaiah — "  The  ox  knoweth 
his  owner,  and  the  ass  his  master's 
crib ;  but  Israel  doth  not  know,  my 
people  doth  not  consider."  You  will  at 
once  understand,  that,  in  our  estima- 
tion, the  pathos  is  derived  from  the  re- 
ference made  to  irrational  creatures,  to 
the  ox,  and  the  ass,  which  have  not 
been  endowed,  as  man  hath  been,  with 
the  high  faculty  of  reason.  It  is  an  ex- 
traordinary proof  of  human  perverse- 
ness  and  ingratitude,  that  there  should 
not  be  as  much  of  attachment,  and  of 
acknowledgment  of  ownership,  mani- 
fested by  men  towards  God,  as  by  the 
beasts  of  the  field  towards  those  who 
show  them  kindness,  or  supply  them 
with  food.  And  we  feel  that  no  accu- 
mulation of  severe  epithets,  no  labored 
upbraidings,  no  variety  of  reproaches, 
coiild  have  set  in  so  affecting  a  light 
the  treatment  which  the  Creator  re- 
ceives from  his  creatures,  as  the  sim- 
ple contrast  thus  drawn  between  man 
and  the  brute. 

But   whenever    Scripture— and    the 


cases  ai'e  not  rare — strives  to  move 
us  by  allusions  to  the  inferior  creation, 
there  is  a  force  in  the  passages  which 
should  secure  them  our  special  atten- 
tion. When  Jeremiah  uses  language 
very  similar  to  that  which  we  have 
just  quoted  from  Isaiah — "Yea,  the 
stork  in  the  heaven  knoweth  her  ap- 
pointed times;  and  the  turtle,  and  the 
crane,  and  the  swallow,  observe  the 
time  of  their  coming;  but  my  people 
know  not  the  judgment  of  the  Lord  " 
— he  delivers  a  sterner  rebuke  than  if 
he  had  dealt  out  a  series  of  vehement 
invectives.  To  what  end  hath  man 
been  gifted  with  superior  faculties, 
made  capable  of  observing  the  deal- 
ings of  his  Maker,  and  receiving  the 
communications  of  his  will,  if  the  birds 
of  the  air,  guided  only  by  instinct,  are 
to  excel  him  in  noting  "  the  signs  of 
the  times,"  and  in  moving  and  acting 
as  those  signs  may  prescribe  1  And 
could  any  severer  censure  be  deliver- 
ed, when  he  gives  no  heed  to  intima- 
tions and  warnings  from  God,  than  is 
passed  on  him  by  the  swallow  and  the 
crane,  who,  observing  the  changes  of 
season,  know  when  to  migrate  from 
one  climate  to  another  1 

Is  there  not  again  a  very  peculiar 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


379 


force  in  this  well-known  address  of 
Solomon  to  the  indolent  man  1  "  Go  to 
the  ant,  thou  sluggard;  consider  her 
ways,  and  be  wise  ;  which  having  no 
guide,  overseer,  or  ruler,  provideth  her 
meat  in  the  summer,  and  gathereth  her 
food,  in  the  harvest."  The  sagacious 
king  might  have  given  us  a  long  dis- 
sertation on  the  evil  of  slothfulness 
and  the  dutj'  of  industry:  but  he  could 
not  have  spoken  more  impressively 
than'  by  simply  referring  us  to  an  in- 
significant, but  ever  active,  insect,  and 
leaving  that  insect  to  put  us  to  shame, 
if  disposed  to  waste  hours  in  idleness. 
And  who  has  not  felt,  whilst  reading 
our  Lord's  discourses  to  his  disciples, 
that  never  did  that  divine  being  speak 
more  eflectively,  or  touchingly,  than 
when  he  made,  as  it  were,  the  fowls  of 
the  air,  and  the  flowers  of  the  field,  ut- 
ter admonitions,  and  reprove  want  of 
faith  1  It  ought  to  assure  us,  nobler 
and  more  important  as  we  manifestly 
are,  of  God's  good  will  towards  us, 
and  his  watchful  care  over  us,  to  ob- 
serve, with  how  unwearied  a  bounty 
he  ministers  to  the  winged  things  that 
range  the  broad  firmament,  and  in  how 
glorious  an  attire  he  arrays  those  pro- 
ductions which  are  to  wither  in  an 
hour.  And  could  our  Savior  have  com- 
posed a  homily  which  should  have 
more  keenly  rebuked  all  mistrust  of 
God,  or  more  persuasively  have  re- 
commended our  casting  on  him  our 
cares,  than  this  his  beautiful  appeal  to 
the  birds  and  the  flowers  1  "  Consider 
the  ravens :  for  they  neither  sow,  nor 
reap,  nor  gather  into  barns ;  and  God 
feedeth  them.  Consider  the  lilies,  how 
they  grow;  they  toil  not,  they  spin 
not ;  yet  I  say  unto  you  that  Solomon, 
in  all  his  glory,  was  not  arrayed  like 
one  of  these." 

In  these  latter  words  Christ  goes  yet 
lower  in  the  scale  of  creation  than  ei- 
ther of  the  prophets  whom  we  quoted 
as  reproving  or  teaching  man  through 
the  inferior  creatures.  It  is  yet  more 
humiliating  to  be  instructed  by  the  lily 
than  by  the  bird  or  the  insect :  and 
man  may  well  indeed  blush,  if  ignorant 
or  unmindful  of  truths  which  may  be 
learnt  from  the  grass  beneath  his  feet.. 
But  there  are  instances  in  Scripture  of 
an  appeal  to  what  is  below  even  this, 
to  the  inanimate  creation,  as  though 
man  might  be  rebuked  and  taught  by 


the  sun  and  stars,  by  the  rocks  and 
the  waters.  When  Joshua,  knowing  the 
time  of  his  death  to  be  near,  had  ga- 
thered the  Israelites,  and  caused  them 
solemnly  to  renew  their  covenant  with 
God,  he  "  took  a  great  stone,  and  set 
it  up  there  under  an  oak  that  was  by 
the  sanctuary  of  the  Lord."  And  then 
he  proceeded  to  address  the  congrega- 
tion in  these  remarkable  words  :  "  Be- 
hold, this  stone  shall  be  a  witness  unto 
us ;  for  it  hath  heard  all  the  words  of 
the  Lord  which  he  spake  unto  us :  it 
shall  be  therefore  a  witness  unto  you, 
lest  ye  deny  your  God."  So  boldly  and 
unreservedly  had  the  people  avouched 
their  determination  of  serving  the  Lord 
and  obeying  his  voice,  that  the  very 
stones  might  be  supposed  to  have  heard 
the  vow,  and  to  be  ready,  in  the  event 
of  that  vow  being  broken,  to  give  evi- 
dence against  the  treacherous  multi- 
tude. Could  the  dying  leader  have  ex- 
pressed more  strongly  the  strictness  of 
the  obligation  under  which  the  people 
had  brought  themselves,  and  the  per- 
fidy of  which  they  would  be  guilty  in 
turning  aside  to  idolatry,  than  by  thus 
gifting  inanimate  matter  with  the  pow- 
ers of  hearing  and  speech,  and  repre- 
senting it  as  becoming  vocal,  that  it 
might  denounce  the  iniquity  of  infring- 
ing the  covenant  just  solemnly  made  1. 
The  stone  is  thus  converted  into  an 
overwhelming  orator ;  in  its  stillness 
and  muteness,  it  addresses  us  more 
energetically  and  persuasively  than  the 
most  impassioned  of  speakers. 

Or,  to  take  another  instance,  when 
the  Psalmist  calls  upon  every  thing, 
animate  and  inanimate,  to  join  in  one 
chorusof  thanksgiving  to  the  Almighty, 
who  does  not  feel  that  the  summoning 
the  senseless  and  irrational  is  the  most 
powerful  mode  of  exhorting  those  bless- 
ed with  life  and  intelligence,  and  of  re- 
buking them,  if  they  offer  not  praise? 
"  Praise  ye  him,  sun  and  moon  ;  praise 
him,  all  ye  stars  of  light.  Praise  the 
Lord  from  the  earth,  ye  dragons  and 
all  deeps,  fire  and  hail,  snow  and  va- 
pors, stormy  wind  fulfilling  his  word." 
Could  any  address  be  more  stirring'? 
Could  any  labored  exposition  of  the 
duty  of  thanksgiving  be  as  effective  as 
this  call  to  the  heavenly  bodies,  yea, 
even  to  the  fire,  and  the  hail,  and  the 
storm,  to  bring  their  tribute  of  praise? 
for  who  amongst  God's  rational  crea- 


380 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


tures  will  dare  to  be  silent,  if  every  j  debate  with  them,  to  bring  forward  his 
star,  as  it  walks  its  course,  and  every    grievances,  and  to  allow  them  to  bring 


breeze,  as  it  sweeps  the  earth,  and  ev- 
ery cloud,  as  it  darkens  the  firmament, 
may  be  regarded  as  attesting  the  good- 
ness and  publishing  the  glories  of  the 
universal  Lord  1 

We  thus  wish  you  to  perceive,  that, 
in  appealing  to  the  inanimate  creation, 
the  inspired  writers  take  a  most  effec- 
tive mode  of  inculcating  great  truths, 
and  conveying  stern  reproofs.  And 
never  should  we  more  feel  that  the  les- 
sons, which  they  are  about  to  deliver, 
are  of  extraordinary  moment,  than  when 
they  introduce  them,  as  Isaiah  does  his 
prophecies,  with  a  "  Hear,  O  heaven, 
and  give  ear,  O  earth  ;"  never  should 
we  be  more  conscious  that  they  are 
just  in  accusing  men  of  wilful  igno- 
rance and  determined  unbelief,  than 
when  they  turn  to  the  inferior  tribes, 
and  cite  them  as  witnesses  against  ra- 
tional beings. 

Now  you  will  readily  perceive  that 
our  text  has  naturally  suggested  these 
remarks  on  the  frequent  references  in 
the  Bible,  whether  to  animate  or  inani- 
jnate  things,  when  man  is  to  be  exhort- 
ed, and  especially  when  he  is  to  be 
rebuked.  In  the  preceding  verse,  the 
prophet  Micah  had  received  his  com- 
mission in  these  remarkable  terms — 
"Arise,  contend  thou  before  the  moun- 
tains, and  let  the  hills  hear  thy  voice." 
Nothing  can  be  more  adapted  to  awa- 
ken attention,  and  prepare  us  for  sur- 
prising disclosures.  What  lofty,  what 
confounding  argument  is  this,  which 
must  be  maintained  in  the  audience  of 
the  mountains  and  hills  1  Or,  could  any 
thing  more  persuade  us  of  the  obdura- 
cy of  those  with  whom  the  prophet  had 
to  reason,  than  this  appeal  to  inanimate 
matter,  as  though  the  very  rocks  might 
be  as  much  expected  to  hearken,  as  the 
idolatrous  generation  to  whom  he  was 
sent"?  In  the  first  verse  of  our  text,  the 
prophet  literally  obeys  the  command 
thus  received  :  for  he  exclaims,  "  Hear 
ye,  O  mountains,  the  Lord's  contro- 
versy, and  ye  strong  foundations  of  the 
earth  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  a  controversy 
with  his  people,  and  he  will  plead  with 
Israel." 

''  The  Lord  hath  a  controversy  with 
his  people  ;"*  he  is  about  to  enter  into 

•  TLis  portion  of  the  subject  has  been  so  largely 


forward  theirs,  so  that  the  cause  may 
be  fairly  tried,  and   a  verdict  given  as 
to  who  has  done   the  wrong.    In  what 
court,  if  we  may  use  the  expression, 
shall  such  a  cause  be  tried  1  VVhen.  one 
of  the  contending  parties  is  none  other 
than  the  everlasting  God,  it  should  be 
at  some  stupendous  tribunal  that  the 
pleading    takes    place.    Let    then    the 
mightiest  eminences   of  the   earth  be 
the  walls  within  which  the  controversy 
proceeds.  "  Arise,  contend  thou  before 
the   mountains."    It  is   as  though  the 
prophet  had  been  bidden  to  select  some 
valley,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  hills 
which  lost  themselves  in  the  clouds  j 
that  there,  as  in  a  magnificent  hall,  wor- 
thy in  some  degree  of  the  greatness  and 
strangeness   of   the   cause,   the   living 
God  and  his  rebellious  people  might 
stand   side    by  side,  and  implead  one 
the  other.    And  the  mountains  are  to 
do  more  than  form  the  walls  of  the  ju- 
dicial chamber.    They  are  to  be  the  au- 
dience, they  are  to  be  witnesses  in  this 
unparalleled  trial.    So  certain  was  God, 
when  thus  bringing  himself  into  public 
controversy  with  Israel,  that  he  should 
be  justified  in  his  dealings,  and  clear 
in  his  judgments;   so   certain,   more- 
over, was  he,  that  no  evidence  Avould 
convince  those  who  were  set  against 
his  service  ;   that    he    summoned   the 
hills  and  strong  foundations  of  the  earth 
to  be  present,  that  he  might  not  want 
voices    to    pronounce    his    acquittal, 
however  human  tongues  might  keep  a 
guilty  silence.    There  is  something  sin- 
gularly striking  and  sublime  in  all  this. 
My  brethren,  give  your  close  attention 
to  the  scene.    We  are  admitted,  as  it 
were,  into  the  court ;  did  ever  trial  go 
forward  in  so  august  a  chamber  1  The 
walls  are  the  everlasting  hills,  and  the 
roof  is  the  broad  firmament  with  all  its 
fretwork  of  stars.    And  the  parties  who 
are  to  come  into  court!    The  Creator 
himself,    amazing    condescension!     is 
one  of  these  parties  ;  the  other  is  the 
whole  Jewish  nation,  or — for  we  may 
fairly  transfer  the  occurrence  to  our 
own  day — the  w"hole  christian  world. 
Yes,  matters  are  to  be  brought  to  an 

handled  by  Saurin  in  his  sermon  on  "God's  contro- 
versy with  Israel,"  that  one  can  scarcely  hope  to 
say  any  thing- which  has  not  been  already  and  Letter 
said  by  that  most  powerful  of  preachers. 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


381 


issue  between  God  and  his  creatures: 
he  knows  that  they  complain  of  his 
government,  and  refuse  compliance 
with  his  laws ;  and  therefore  has  he 
descended  from  his  throne,  and  laid 
aside  for  the  time  his  rights  and  pre- 
rogatives, and  placed  himself  at  the 
bar  with  those  who  have  resisted  his 
authority,  that  the  real  state  of  the 
case  may  be  thoroughly  examined,  and 
sentence  be  given  according  to  the  evi- 
dence produced. 

Let  then  the  trial  commence  :  God 
is  to  speak  first;  and  so  strange  is  it 
that  he  should  thus  enter  into  contro- 
versy with  man,  that  the  very  hills  and 
strong  foundations  of  the  earth  assume 
a  listening  posture.  And  now  what 
words  do  you  expect  to  hearl  What 
can  you  look  for  from  the  Divine  Speak- 
er, if  not  for  a  burst  of  vehement  re- 
proach, a  fearful  enumeration  of  foul 
ingratitude,  and  base  rebellion,  and 
multiplied  crime  1  When  you  think 
that  God  himself  is  confronted  with  a 
people  for  whom  he  has  done  unspeak- 
able things,  and  from  whom  he  has 
received  in  return  only  enmity  and 
scorn,  you  must  expect  him  to  open 
his  cause  with  a  statement  of  sins,  and 
a  catalogue  of  offences,  at  the  hearing 
of  which  the  very  mountains  would 
quake.  But  it  is  not  so.  And  among  all 
the  transitions  which  are  to  be  found 
on  the  pages  of  Scripture,  and  which 
furnish  the  most  touching  exhibitions 
of  divine  tenderness  and  long-suffering^, 
perhaps  none  is  more  affecting  than  that 
here  presented.  We  have  been  brought 
into  a  most  stupendous  scene:  moun- 
tain has  been  piled  upon  mountain, 
that  a  fit  chamber  might  be  reared  for 
the  most  singular  trial  which  earth 
ever  witnessed.  The  parties  have  come 
into  court;  and  whilst  one  is  a  com- 
pany of  human  beings  like  ourselves, 
we  have  been  amazed  at  finding  in  the 
other  the  ever-living  Creator,  who  has 
consented  to  give  his  people  the  op- 
portunity of  pleading  with  him  face  to 
face,  and  of  justifying,  if  they  can,  their 
continued  rebellion.  And  now  the  mind 
is  naturally  wrought  up  to  a  high  pitch 
of  excitement;  we  almost  tremble  as 
we  hearken  for  the  first  words  which 
the  Almighty  is  to  utter;  they  must, 
we  feel  sure,  be  words  of  accusation, 
and  wrath,  and  vengeance,  Avords  deep 
as  the  thunder  and  fiery  as  the  light- 


ning; when,  lo,  as  though  the  speaker 
were  overcome  with  grief,  as  though 
the  sight  of  those  who  had  injured  him 
moved  him  to  sorrow,  not  to  wrath,  he 
breaks  into  the  pathetic  exclamation, 
an  exclamation  every  letter  of  which 
seems  a  tear,  "  0  my  people,  what  have 
I  done  unto  thee,  and  wherein  have  I 
wearied  theel  testify  against  me." 

We  desire,  brethren,  that  you  should 
avail  yourselves,  on  the  present  occa- 
sion, of  the  wonderful  permission  thus 
accorded  by  God.  Ordinarily  we  are 
fearful  of  allowing  you  to  bring  com- 
plaints against  your  Maker.  But  we 
know  that  you  make  them  in  your 
hearts;  and,  now,  at  last,  you  have  a 
full  opportunity  of  giving  them  vent; 
you  are  standing  in  controversy  with 
God,  and  God  himself  gives  you  leave 
to  testify  against  him.  The  question 
therefore  now  is,  what  charges  any  of 
you  have  to  bring  against  God,  against 
his  dealings  with  you,  against  his  go- 
vernment, against  his  laws.  If  you 
have  any  excuses  to  offer  for  still  liv- 
ing in  sin,  for  impenitence,  for  cove- 
tousness,  for  sensuality,  you  are  free 
[  to  produce  them;  God  himself  invites 
i  the  statement,  and  you  need  not  fear 
to  speak.  But,  forasmuch  as  j'ou  are 
confronted  with  God,  you  must  expect 
that  whatsoever  you  advance  will  be 
rigidly  examined;  and  that,  when  you 
have  brought  your  accusation  against 
God,  God  will  bring  his  against  you. 
These  preliminaries  of  the  great  trial 
having  been  defined  and  adjusted,  we 
may  suppose  the  controversy  to  pro- 
ceed:  men  shall  first  testify  against 
God,  and  God  then  shall  testify  against 
men. 

Now  you  will  understand  that  we  are 
here  supposing  men  to  come  forward, 
and  to  attempt  to  justify  what  is  wrong 
in  their  conduct,  by  laying  the  blame, 
in  some  way,  upon  God.  It  is  this 
which  God,  in  our  text,  invites  the  Is- 
{  raelites  to  do;  and  therefore  it  is  this 
which,  if  the  trial  be  regarded  as  tak- 
ing place  in  our  own  da^^,  we  must  sup- 
pose done  by  the  existing  generation. 
And  if  men  would  frankly  speak  out, 
as  they  are  here  bidden  to  do,  they 
would  have  to  acknowledge  a  secret 
persuasion  that  they  have  been  dealt 
with  unjustly,  and  that  there  is  much 
to  palliate,  if  not  wholly  to  excuse, 
their  continued  violation  of  the  known 


382 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOITNTAINS. 


laws  of  God.  They  argue  that  they 
have  inherited,  through  no  fault  of  their 
own,  a  proneness  to  sin ;  that  they  have 
been  born  with  strong  passions  and  ap- 
petites, and  placed  in  the  midst  of  the 
very  objects  which  their  desires  soli- 
cit ;  and  they  are  disposed  to  ask,  whe- 
ther it  can  be  quite  fair  to  expect  them 
to  be  virtuous  in  spite  of  all  these  dis- 
advantages, quite  just  to  condemn  them 
for  doing  that  which,  after  all,  they 
had  scarce  the  power  of  avoiding. 
Well,  let  them  urge  their  complaint: 
God  is  willing  to  hear;  but  let  them, 
on  their  part,  give  heed  to  what  he 
will  plead  in  reply.  The  accusation  is 
this — human  nature  became  corrupt 
through  the  transgression  of  Adam,  a 
transgression  in  which  we  had  certain- 
ly no  personal  share.  As  a  conse- 
quence on  this,  we  come  into  the  Avorld 
with  corrupt  propensities,  propensities 
moreover  which  there  is  every  thing  j 
around  us  to  develope  and  strengthen;  \ 
and  nevertheless  we  are  to  be  con-  j 
demned  for  obeying  inclinations  which  ! 
we  did  not  implant,  and  gratifying  pas-  | 
sions  which  are  actually  a  part  of  our  ! 
constitution.  If  we  had  not  inherited  a 
tainted  nature,  or  if  we  had  been,  at 
least,  so  circumstanced  that  the  incen- 
tives to  virtue  might  have  been  strong- 
er than  the  temptations  to  vice,  there 
would  have  been  justice  in  the  expect- 
ing us  to  live  soberly  and  righteously, 
and  in  the  punishing  us  if  we  turned 
aside  from  a  path  of  self-denial.  But 
assuredly,  when  the  case  is  precisely 
the  reverse,  when  there  has  been  com- 
municated to  us  the  very  strongest  ten- 
dency to  sin,  and  we  have  been  placed 
amongst  objects  which  call  out  that 
tendency,  whilst  the  motives  to  with- 
standing it  act  at  a  great  comparative 
disadvantage,  it  is  somewhat  hard  that 
we  should  be  required  to  resist  what 
is  natural,  and  condemned  for  obeying 
it — ay,  and  we  think  that  here,  in  the 
presence  of  the  mountains  and  strong 
foundations  of  the  earth,  we  may  ven- 
ture to  plead  the  hardship,  seeing 
that  God  himself  hath  said,  "  Testify 
against  me." 

But  now  the  accusation  must  be  sift- 
ed :  it  is  a  controversy  which  is  being 
carried  on;  and  whatever  is  urged,  ei- 
ther on  the  one  side  or  on  the  other, 
has  to  be  subjected  to  a  rigid  inquiry. 
It  is,  of  course,  to  be  acknowledged, 


that,  as  a  consequence  on  the  apostacy 
of  our  forefather,  we  receive  a  deprav- 
ed nature,  prone  to  sin  and  averse  from 
holiness.  It  has  undoubtedly  become 
natural  to  us  to  disobey  God,  and  un- 
natural, or  contrary  to  nature,  to  obey 
him.  And  we  are  placed  in  a  world 
which  presents,  in  rich  profusion,  the 
counterpart  objects  to  our  strong- 
est desires,  and  which,  soliciting  us 
through  the  avenues  of  our  senses,  has 
great  advantages  over  another  state  of 
being,  which  must  make  its  appeal  ex- 
clusively to  our  faith.  All  this  must  be 
readily  admitted  :  there  is  no  exagge- 
ration, and  no  misrepresentation.  But 
if  this  may  be  said  on  the  side  of  man, 
is  there  nothing  to  be  said  on  the  side 
of  God  1  Has  God  made  it  absolutely 
unlawful  that  you  should  gratify  the 
desires  of  your  nature  1  is  it  not  rather 
the  immoderate  gratification  which  he 
denounces  as  criminal"?  and  is  it  not 
actually  a  law  of  your  constitution,  that 
this  immoderate  gratification  defeats 
itself,  so  that  your  choicest  pleasures, 
taken  in  excess,  pall  upon  the  appetite, 
and  produce  but  disgust  1  In  all  accu- 
sations which  you  bring  against  God, 
you  assume  that  he  requires  the  sur- 
render of  whatsoever  constitutes  the 
happiness  of  beings  so  conditioned  as 
yourselves :  whereas  it  is  susceptible 
of  the  fullest  demonstration,  that  the  re- 
straints which  his  laws  put  on  your  de- 
sires, and  the  bounds  which  they  set  to 
the  indulgence  of  your  wishes,  do  nO; 
thing  but  prevent  these  desires  and 
wishes  from  becoming  your  tyrants, 
and  therefore  your  tormentors.  And 
what  have  you  to  say  against  restric- 
tions, which  after  all  are  but  safeguards 
for  yourselves  and  your  fellow-men — 
restrictions,  the  universal  submission 
to  which  would  turn  the  world  into 
one  peaceful  and  flourishing  communi- 
ty, and  the  setting  which  at  nought  is 
certain  to  be  followed  by  the  worst 
consequences  to  indfviduals  and  socie- 
ty 1  It  is  idle  to  contend  that  God  re- 
quires from  you  a  moderation  and  self- 
denial,  which,  constituted  and  circum- 
stanced as  you  are,  it  is  unjust  to  ex- 
pect, when  he  asks  only  what  you  can- 
not grant  without  being  incalculably 
benefited;  nor  refuse,  without  being 
as  much  injured. 

We  are  not  here  speaking,  be  it  ob- 
served, of  the  benefit  and  injury  which 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


383 


are  distinctly  annexed,  as  reward  and 
penalt}--,  to  the  several  divine  laws;  for 
we  could  hardly  expect  you  to  admit 
that  these  bear  directly  on  our  argu- 
ment. We  speak  of  the  benefit  and  in- 
jury which  follow  in  the  way  of  natu- 
ral consequence,  and  which  therefore 
may  be  regarded  as  resulting  from  the 
human  constitution,  rather  than  from 
specific  enactments  of  the  universal 
Ruler.  And  we  may  confidently  assert, 
that,  if  there  were  nothing  to  be  consi- 
dered but  the  amount  of  enjoyment, 
that  man  would  consult  best  for  him- 
self who  should  impose  such  restraints 
on  his  desires  as  God's  law  prescribes, 
inasmuch  as  he  would  never  then  be- 
come the  slave  of  those  desires:  unli- 
mited indulgence  makes  slavery,  and 
slavery  misery. 

And  though  you  may  further  plead 
the  amazing  power  of  temptation,  and 
the  known  inability  of  man  to  resist 
the  solicitations  of  the  objects  of  sense, 
we  plainly  tell  you  that  herein  you  ex- 
aggerate the  strength  of  an  enemy,  on- 
ly that  you  m^y  apologize  for  defeat. 
You  speak  as  if  God  offered  man  no 
assistance,  whereas  the  whole  of  his 
revelation  is  one  proffer  of  such  helps 
as  will  suffice  to  secure  victory.  It  is 
altogether  a  misrepresentation,  to  dwell 
on  the  vehemence  of  passions  and  the 
energy  of  solicitations,  as  though  there 
were  nothing  to  be  said  on  the  other 
side  ;  whilst  it  is  certain  that  there  has 
been  made  such  provision  on  our  be- 
half, that  he  who  will  seek  the  appoint- 
ed aids  may  make  sure  of  conquest. 
Add  to  this,  for  we  have  higher  ground 
on  which  to  meet  you,  that  God  has 
not  required  you  to  live  righteously, 
without  proposing  an  adequate  motive. 
Estimate  at  what  you  will  the  present 
sacrifice — though  we  are  persuaded,  as 
Ave  have  already  stated,  that  you  are 
asked  t.o  surrender  nothing  which  you 
would  be  the  happier  for  keeping — but 
make  what  estimate  you  choose  of  the 
present  sacrifice,  you  cannot  say  that 
God  does  not  offer  vastly  more  than 
its  compensation,  in  offering  eternal 
life  to  such  as  subjugate  themselves. 
Take  then  the  matter  under  every  pos- 
sible point  of  view,  and  we  think  that 
you  must  be  cast  in  the  controversy 
into  which  you  have  entered  before  the 
mountains  and  the  strong  foundations 
o[  the   earth.    You  have  urged  your 


plea,  and  now  it  behoves  you  to  be  si- 
lent whilst  God  shall  urge  his.  You 
have  virtually  contended  that  God  has 
done  something  unjust  by  placing  you 
in  your  present  condition,  and  that  he 
has  wearied  you  by  imposing  on  you 
grievous'commands.  But  hear,  if  we 
may  venture  on  so  bold  an  expression, 
hear  his  defence.  He  rises  up  to  plead 
with  you,  and  these  are  his  words. 

I  did  all  which  could  be  done  for 
your  forefather  Adam,  gifting  him 
with  high  powers,  and  subjecting  him 
to  slight  trial.  If  therefore  you  have 
inherited  a  corrupt  nature,  it  was  not 
through  defect  in  my  arrangements  for 
your  good.  I  did  what  promised  most 
for'your  advantage,  and  what  you  would 
have  thankfully  consented  to,  had  you 
been  present  when  Adam  was  made 
your  representative.  And  though,  when 
you  had  fallen,  I  might  justly  have  left 
you  to  your  misery,  I  determined  and 
effected  your  redemption,  though  it 
could  only  be  achieved  through  the 
death  of  my  well-beloved  Son.  By 
and  through  this  redemption,  I  provi- 
ded for  you  the  means  of  subduing  pas- 
sions however  strong,  and  withstand- 
ing temptations  however  powerful.  And 
whilst  I  made  it  your  duty,  I  made  it 
also,  in  every  sense,  your  interest,  "to 
live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in 
the  world."  My  commandments  "  are 
not  grievous:"  "in  keeping  of  them 
there  is  great  reward."  Nothing  is 
forbidden,  which,  if  permitted,  would 
make  you  happier ;  nothing  enjoined 
which  could  be  dispensed  with  with- 
out injury.  The  ways  in  which  I  re- 
quire you  to  walk  are  "  ways  of  plea- 
santness" and  peace;  and  they  termi- 
natei'in  a  happiness  which  would  be 
incalculably  more  than  a  compensa- 
tion, even  if  the  path  lay  through  un- 
varied wretchedness.  Where  then  is 
the  justice  of  your  complaint,  or  ra- 
ther of  your  accusation!  0  it  is  thus 
that  God  may  expose  the  hollowness 
and  falsehood  of  all  that  reasoning,  by 
which  those  who  love  sin  would  prove 
themselves  excusable  in  yieldina:  to  its 
power.  I  hear  him  appeal  to  the'^moun- 
tains  and  the  hills,  as  though  these 
were  more  likely  than  the  stony  heart 
of  man  to  answer  him  with  truth.  And 
when  he  has  shown  how  much  he  hath 
done  for  man,  what  provisions  he  has 
made  for  his  resisting  and  overcoming 


384* 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


evil,  what  present  and  future  recom- 
penses are  annexed  to  the  keeping  his 
commandments,  I  seem  to  hear  the 
mountains  and  the  hills  giving  forth 
their  loud  verdict — yea,  the  forests 
which  are  upon  them  bow  in  assent, 
and  the  rivers  which  flow  from  them 
murmur  their  testimony,  and  from  sum- 
mit to  summit  is  echoed  the  approving 
plaudit,  as  the  Almighty  again  utters 
the  challenge,  "O  my  people,  what  have 
I  done  unto  thee,  and  wherein  have  I 
wearied  thee  1  testify  against  me." 

And  thus  far  the  accusation  has  on- 
ly been,  that  God  asks  from  man  what, 
under  man's  circumstances,  ought  not 
to  be  expected  :  man  being,  by  nature, 
strongly  inclined  to  sin  ;  and  God's  law 
requiring  him  to  do  violence  to  inclina- 
tions, for  whose  existence  he  is  in  no 
degree  answerable.  But  the  court  is 
not  dissolved,  and  fresh  indictments 
may  be  brought.  Let,  then,  men  ap- 
proach, and  complain,  if  they  will,  of 
the  dealings  of  God,  of  the  unequal 
distribution  of  his  gifts,  of  the  preva- 
lence of  misery,  and  the  successfulness 
of  wickedness.  It  is  not  to  be  disputed, 
that  numbers  are  disposed  to  murmur 
against  the  dispensations  of  provi- 
dence, and  even  to  derive  from  them 
arguments  against  the  impartiality  of 
God's  moral  government,  or  the  advan- 
tageousness  of  adhering  to  his  service. 
They  count  it  surpassingly  strange  that 
so  much  wretchedness  should  exist 
beneath  the  sway  of  a  Being  as  bene- 
volent as  powerful ;  and,  if  possible, 
yet  more  strange,  that  no  amount  of 
piety  should  secure  an  individual  a- 
gainst  his  share  in  this  wretchedness ; 
nay,  that,  in  many  cases,  piety  should 
seem  only  to  make  that  share  greater. 
Well,  there  is  now  nothing  to  prevent 
the  complaint  from  being  urged  ;  God 
has  himself  invited  you  to  state  every 
grievance,  so  that,  without  incurring 
his  displeasure,  you  may  bring  your 
charges  against  his  dealings  with  your- 
selves. We  may  however  suppose  you, 
in  this  instance,  to  limit  the  charge  to 
his  dealings  with  those  who  are  em- 
phatically his  people  :  you  will  hardly 
throw  blame  upon  him  for  that  misery 
which  results  purely  from  vice,  and 
which  would  almost  wholly  disappear 
if  men  submitted  to  his  laws.  If  you 
put  out  of  the  account  that  unhappiness 
which  is  the  direct   consequence  ou  I 


wickedness,  and  for  which  therefore 
it  would  be  palpably  unjust  to  reproach 
God,  you  have  all  the  human  misery 
which  can  excite  wonder,  or  furnish, 
even  in  appearance,  any  groundwork 
of  complaint. 

And  undoubtedly  there  is  thus  left 
no  inconsiderable  sum:  the  righteous 
may  be  exempt  from  many  afflictions 
which  their  own  sins  bring  upon  the 
wicked;  but  nevertheless  their  share 
of  trouble  is  very  large,  and  includes 
much  which  is  peculiar  to  themselves. 
It  is  against  this  that  men  are  disposed 
to  make  exceptions;  arguing  that  it 
can  scarce  be  equitable  in  God  to  allot 
so  much  of  trouble  and  pain  to, those 
who  love  him  in  sincerity,  and  serve 
him  with  diligence.  They  object  in- 
deed, as  we  have  already  said,  to  the 
whole  course  of  the  divine  govern- 
ment ;  contending  that  there  is  too 
much  of  permitted  evil,  and  too  little 
of  bestowed  good  to  make  that  go- 
vernment worthy  of  God.  But  if  the 
objection  be  of  weight  in  any  case,  it 
must  be  in  that  of  the  righteous;  so 
that  to  remove  it  in  this  will  be  to  de- 
stroy it  in  every  other.  And  if  it  be 
easy  for  God  to  vindicate  himself  a- 
gainst  any  charge,  it  is  against  that 
which  impeaches  his  dealings  with  his 
people.  He  has  no  difficulty  in  proving 
that  "he  doth  not  afflict  willingly,  nor 
grieve  the  children  of  men."  Let  him 
enter  into  controversy  with  you,  and 
then  see  whether  vou  will  venture  to 
maintain  your  accusations.  It  is  m 
terms  such  as  these  that  he  may  be 
supposed  to  justify  his  dealings. 

It  is  true  that  those  whom  I  love  I 
chasten,  even  "  as  a  father  the  son  in 
whom  he  delighteth."  But  it  is  because 
I  have  to  deal  with  an  ungrateful  and 
stubborn  nature,  \<'hich  cannot  be  train- 
ed by  any  other  discipline  for  the  joys 
of  mine  own  immediate  presence.  If 
the  hearts  of  my  people  were  not  so 
prone  to  the  attaching  themselves  to 
earth,  I  should  not  use  such  rough 
means  of  loosening  the  bonds  :  if  they 
were  not  so  ready  to  fall  into  slumber, 
I  should  not  so  often  speak  to  them 
with  a  startling  voice.  I  might  indeed 
have  annexed  temporal  prosperity  to 
genuine  religion,  so  that  whosoever 
served  me  in  truth  should  have  been 
thereby  secured  against  the  chief  forms 
of  trouble.    But  wherein  would    have 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


385 


been  the  mercifulness  of  such  an  ar- 
rangement I  Who  knows  not  that,  even 
as  it  is,  life  with  aiJ  its  cares  is  clung  to 
with  extraordinary  tenacity,  and  that 
the  present,  with  all 'its  sorrows,  is 
practically  almost  preferred  to  the  fu- 
ture ?  Those  who  have  set  their  "  af- 
fections on  things  above,"  can  hardly 
bring  themselves  to  the  entering  on 
their  possession,  though  urged  by  va- 
rious disappointments  and  disasters; 
and  they  avIio  have  been  the  longest 
engaged  in  preparing  for  death,  and 
who  seem  to  have  least  of  what  can 
make  earth  desirable,  show  a  reluc- 
tance, as  the  time  of  departure  ap- 
proaches, which  proves  them  still  un- 
duly attached  to  what  they  must  leave. 
What  would  it  be,  if  the  arrangement 
were  altered,  and  piety  conferred  an 
exemptionfrom  suffering'?  There  would 
then  be  a  continual  strengthening  of  the 
ties  which  bind  the  soul  to  earth  :  the 
longer  the  term  of  human  life,  the 
greater  would  be  the  unwillingness  to 
depart,  and  the  more  imperfect  the  pre- 
paration for  a  higher  state  of  being. 
And  though  it  be  thus  needful  that 
many  should  be  the  troubles  of  the 
righteous,  are  those  troubles  unmiti- 
gated! are  there  no  compensating  cir- 
cumstances which  make  a  father's  chas- 
tisement prove  a  father's  love  1  It  is  in 
the  season  of  deep  sorrow  that  I  com- 
municate the  richest  tokens  of  my  fa- 
vor. Then  it  is,  when  the  spirit  is  sub- 
dued and  the  heart  disquieted,  that  I 
find  opportunity  of  fulfilling  the  choi- 
cest promises  registered  in  myAvord; 
so  that  even  mourners  themselves  of- 
ten break  into  the  exclamation,  "  It  is 
good  for  us  that  we  were  afflicted  J' 
If  I  take  away  earthly  wealth,  it  is  that 
there  may  be  more  room. for  heavenly  : 
if  I  remove  the  objects  of  ardent  at- 
tachment, it  is  that  I  may  fill  the  void 
with  more  of  myself.  Thus  with  every 
sorrow  there  is  an  appropriate  conso- 
lation ;  every  loss  makes  w^ay  for  a 
gain  ;  and  every  blighted  hope  is  but 
parent  to  a  better. 

And  what  is  to  be  said,  men  and 
brethren,  against  the  vindication  which 
God  thus  advances  of  his  dealings  1  Is 
the  complaint  substantiated  which  you 
ventured  to  produce  in  that  magnificent 
chamber  which  he  reared  for  his  con- 
troversy with  his  people  1  Let  the  very 
mountains  judge,  let  the  strong  foun- 


dations of  the  earth  give  a  verdict. 
"  O  my  people,  what  have  I  done,  un- 
to thee,  and  wherein  have  I  wearied 
thee '!"  I  have  sufiered  trouble  to 
come  upon  you,  but  only  as  an  instru- 
ment for  good  ;  and  never  have  I  left 
you  to  bear  it  alone,  but  have  always 
been  at  hand  to  comfort  and  uphold. 
I  have  suflered  death  to  enter  your 
households,  but  only  that  you  might 
be  trained  for  immortality  ;  and  there 
has  not  been  a  tear  which  you  have 
been  forced  to  shed,- which  I  have  not 
been  ready  to  wipe  from  the  eye.  I 
have  suffered  schemes  to  be  disap- 
pointed, expectations  to  be  baffled, 
friends  to  prove  treacherous  ;  but  only 
that  you  might  more  prize  and  strive 
after  the  ''better  and  enduring  sub- 
stance ;"  and  never  have  I  thus  brought 
you  into  the  wilderness,  without  going 
before  you  in  the  pillar  of  fire  and 
cloud.  Do  ye  then  arraign  my  deal- 
ings ?  do  ye  accuse  them  of  severity  % 
The  inanimate  creation  shall  utter  my 
vindication.  The  solid  rocks"  which 
have  beforetime  been  rent  at  my  voice  ; 
the  lofty  eminences  which  have  bowed 
and  done  homage  at  my  presence;  the 
trees  which  have  waved  exultingly, 
and  the  floods  which  have  lifted  up  their 
waters,  at  fresh  manifestations  of  my 
greatness — to  these  I  appeal ;  let  these 
decide  in  this  strangest  of  controver- 
sies. And  so  evident  is  it,  brethren, 
that  God  chastens  for  your  good,  and 
afflicts  only  to  bless,  that  we  seem  to 
hear  the  sound  as  of  an  earthquake  in 
reply  to  this  appeal,  the  sound  as  of 
rocking  forests,  the  sound  as  of  rush- 
ing waters;  and  all  gathered  into  one 
emphatic  decision  that  your  Creator  is 
clear  in  this  matter,  and  that,  therefore, 
it  'must  be  on  some  fresh  charge,  if 
you  would  so  testify  against  him  as 
to  prove  that  you  have  ground  of  com- 
plaint. 

But  we  must  change  the  scene. 
Having  allowed  you  to  produce  your 
accusations  against  the  laws  and  deal- 
ings of  God,  it  is  time  that  we  suppose 
God  the  accuser,  and  put  you  on  your 
defence.  We  stated,  in  an  earlier  part 
of  our  discourse,  that,  since  there  was 
to  be  a  controversy,  both  parties  must 
be  heard  ;  that  each  must  produce  his 
cause,  and  plead  his  matter  of  com- 
plaint. The  court  has  been  hitherto 
occupied  with  your  alleged  grievances, 
49 


386 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


but  you  have  failed  to  make  good  any 
charge  against  God.  But  you  now  ap- 
pear in  an  opposite  character:  God 
has  accusations  to  prefer  against  you  ; 
prepare  then  yourselves,  and  meditate 
your  answer.  Ah,  my  brethren,  how- 
ever bold  you  were  before,  when  you 
were  permitted,  yea,  bidden  to  testify 
against  God,  you  seem  ready  to  shrink 
away  and  hide  yourselves,  now  that 
God  is  about  to  testify  against  you. 
These  mighty  rocks,  these  towering 
hills,  by  which  you  are  encircled,  you 
would  fain  call  upon  them  to  cover  you, 
that  you  might  be  hidden  from  one 
who  can  bring  against  jou,  as  you 
too  well  know,  such  overwhelming 
charges.  But  this  cannot  be.  God  con- 
descended to  listen  to  your  accusa- 
tions, and  you  must  stay,  at  whatever 
cost,  and  abide  his. 

With  what  words  shall  the  Almighty 
commence  his  indictment,  if  not  with 
those  which  were  the  first  which  he 
charged  Isaiah  to  utter  1  "  Hear,  O 
heavens,  and  give  ear,  O  earth  ;  for 
the  Lord  hath  spoken,  I  have  nourish- 
ed and  brought  up  children,  and  they 
have  rebelled  against  me."  There  is 
not  one  of  you  on  whom  he  has  not 
bestowed  countless  mercies  :  he  has 
been  about  the  path,  and  about  the 
bed,  of  each :  and  had  it  not  been  for 
the  watchfulness  of  his  providence,  and 
the  tenderness  of  his  love,  there  is  not 
one  of  you  who  would  not  have  been 
long  ago  crushed  by  calamities,  and 
stripped  of  all  the  elements  of  happi- 
ness. But  you  have  been  guarded  and 
sustained  from  infancy  upwards ;  you 
have  been  fed  by  his  bountj^,  warmed 
by  his  sun,  shielded  by  his  power;  and 
thus  has  he  been  to  each  of  you  as 
a  father, — a  father  in  comparison  of 
whom  the  kindest  earthly  parent  might 
be  counted  a  stranger.  And  what  he 
has  done  for  you  in  temporal  respects 
may  almost  be  forgotten,  when  you 
come  to  consider-  what  he  has  done 
for  you  in  spiritual.  There  is  not  one 
amongst  you  for  whom  he  did  not  give 
up  his  only  and  well-beloved  Son  to 
ignominy  and  death:  not  one  on  whom 
he  has  not  wrought  by  his  preventing 
grace  :  not  one  to  whom  he  has  not 
sent  the  tidings  of  redemption :  not  one 
to  whom  he  has  not  offered  immea- 
surable happiness  in  his  own  glorious 
kingdom.    And  what  has  he  received 


in  return  for  all  this  1  However  per- 
suaded and  thankful  We  may  be,  that 
there  are  those  in  this  assembly  who 
have  been  softened  and  subdued  by 
what  God  hath  done  on  their  behalf, 
and  who  have  cordially  devoted  them- 
selves to  his  service,  we  dare  not  doubt 
that  numbers,  perhaps  the  majority, 
perhaps  the  great  majority,  are  still  at 
enmity  with  the  Being  who  has  striven 
by  every  means  to  reconcile  them  to 
himself.  There  are  the  young,  who  are 
refusing  to  remember  their  Creator  in 
the  days  of  their  youth.  There  are  the 
old,  who  think  that  repentance  may  be 
safely  deferred,  whilst  they  enjoy  a  lit- 
tle more  pleasure,  or  accumulate  a  lit- 
tle more  wealth.  There  are  the  rich, 
who  make  gold  their  hope,  and  fine 
gold  their  confidence  ;  there  are  the 
poor,  whom  even  destitution  cannot 
urge  to  seek  treasure  above. 

And  what  can  such  say,  rfow  that 
they  are  standing  in  controversy  with 
God  ?  Let  us  pause  yet  a  moment  long- 
er, that  we  may  hear  what  God  has  to 
urge  against  men.  There  occur  to  the 
mind  those  striking  words  in  the  book 
of  Revelation,  "Behold  I  stand  at  the 
door  and  knock."  God  seems  to  enu- 
merate the  modes  in  which  he  has 
knocked  at  the  door  of  our  hearts,  and 
to  appeal  to  them  in  proof  how  just  are 
his  complaints  of  our  obduracy.  We 
might  almost  say  that  he  knocks  by 
every  object  in  creation,  and  by  every 
provision  in  redemption.  If  I  look 
abroad  upon  the  magnificence  of  the 
heavens,  there  is  not  a  star  in  all  that 
glorious  troop  which  comes  marching 
through  immensity,  which  does  not 
summon  me  to  acknowledge  and  ad- 
mire the  power  gf  Godhead,  and  which 
may  not  therefore  be  said  to  make  an 
appeal  at  the  door  of  the  heart,  audi- 
ble by  all  who  yield  homage  to  a  Crea- 
tor. If  I  survey  the  earth  on  which  we 
dwell,  and  study  its  marvellousa  dapta- 
tions  to  the  wants  of  its  inhabitants, 
and  scrutinize  what  goes  on  in  the  vast 
laboratories  of  nature;  or  if  I  descend 
into  myself,  "  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
made,"  and  examine  the  curious  me- 
chanism, the  beneficent  contrivances, 
and  the  exquisite  symmetries,  which 
distinguish  the  body — why,  there  is 
nothing  without,  and  there  is  nothing 
within,  which  does  not  call  to  the  re- 
membering and  reverencing  God:  eve- 


PLEADING    BEFOEE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


387 


ry  feature  of  the  landscape,  every  tree 
of  the  forest,  every  flower  of  the  gar- 
den, every  joint  and  every  muscle  of 
my  frame,  all  are  gifted  with  energy  in 
proclaiming  that   there   is  a  Supreme 
Being,  infinite  in  wisdom  and  goodness 
as  well  as  in  might ;  and  through  each, 
therefore,  may  this  Being  be  aflirmed 
to  knock  at  the  heart,  demanding  its 
love  and  allegiance.  And  God  knocks, 
as  you  will  all  allow,  by  the  visitations 
of  his  Providence :  he  knocks,  more- 
over, by  the  suggestions  of  conscience 
and  the  strivings  of  the  Spirit.    Who 
is  there  of  you  who  will  presume  to  say 
that'  he   never  heard   this  knocking  ( 
We  know  better.    We  know  that,  in 
the  worst  storm  and  mutiny  of  passion, 
when  the  heart  itself  has  been  the  scene 
of  conflict  and  turmoil,  the  wild  and 
battling  inmates  have  often  been  star- 
tled  by  an  appeal  from  without  j  and 
that,  for  a  moment  at  least,  there  has 
been  the  hush  as  of  shame  or  of  fear, 
so  that  there  has  been  space  for  an  en- 
ergetic remonstrance,  a  remonstrance 
which,  if  it  failed  to  produce  perma- 
nent order,  left  a  heavier  condemnation 
on  the  wretched  slave  of  the  flesh  and 
its  lusts.    It   is   not  then  difficult  for 
God,  or  for  Christ,  to  show  that  this 
has  indeed  been  his  course  with  you 
all; — ''I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock." 
But  you  have  opened  the   door  to  a 
thousand  other  guests ;  you  have  re- 
ceived them  into  the  recesses  of  the 
heart ;  but  Him  you  have   coldly  re- 
pulsed, or  superciliously  neglected.  O, 
we  fear  that  he  may  say  to  too  many 
of  you,  I  stood,  and  knocked  in  the 
hour  of  prosperity,  but  ye  gave  no  heed 
to  a  message  delivered  in  the  form  of 
abundance   and    gladness.    I   came   in 
the  darkness  and  stillness  of  adversity, 
thinking  that   you  might  open  to  me 
when  you  were  careworn  and  sad  ;  but 
you  chose  other  comforters,  and  I  ask- 
ed you  in  vain  to  receive  ''  the  Lord  of 
peace."    I  called  you  through  all  the 
glories  and  all  the  wonders  of  the  visi- 
ble universe ;   but  it  availed  nothing 
that  I  wrote  my  summons  on  the  firma- 
ment, and  syllabled  it  alike  in  the  voices 
and  the  silences  of  immensity:    ''ye 
have  set  at  nought  all  my  counsel,  and 
would  none  of  my  reproof."  I  gave  you 
my  word,  I  sent  to  you  my  Gospel ; 
but  it  was  to  no  purpose  that  I  knock- 
ed with  the  cross,  the  cross'on  which  ! 


my  Son  was  stretched  to  deliver  you 
from  death  :  you  were  too  busy,  or  too 
proud,  or  too  unbelieving,  to  give  ear 
to  the  invitation  ;  and  I  pleaded  in  vain, 
though  I  pleaded  as  the  conqueror  of 
your  every  foe.  And  in  many  an  hour 
of  temptation,  in  many  a  moment  of 
guilty  pleasure,  amid  the  noise  of  bu- 
siness and  in  the  retirements  of  soli- 
tude, I  have  knocked  so  loudly,  through 
the  instrumentality  of  conscience,  that 
you  could  not  but  start,  and  make  some 
faint  promise  of  admitting  me  hereaf- 
ter; but,  alas,  when  I  looked  for  the 
opening  of  the  door,  you  have  but  bar- 
red it  more  effectually  against  me. 

Ah,  if  it  be  by  such  a  reference  to 
the  modes  in  which  he  has  knocked  at 
your  hearts,  but  knocked  in  vain,  that 
God  conducts  his  side  of  the  contro- 
versy, what  can  you  have  to  plead  1  It 
is  in  very  moving  terms  that  he  urges 
his  accusation.  I  have  long  and  ten- 
derly watched  you.  I  have  spared  no 
pains  to  turn  you  from  evil.  By  mer- 
cies and  by  judgments,  by  promises 
and  by  threatenings,  I  have  striven  to 
fix  your  thoughts  on  the  things  which 
belong  to  your  peace.  I  counted  no- 
thing too  costly  to  be  done  for  your 
rescue  :  I  spared  not  mine  own  Son  ; 
and  I  have  borne,  year  after  year,  with 
your  waywardness  and  ingratitude,  not 
willing  that  you  should  perish,  though 
you  have  acted  as  if  resolved  that  you 
would  not  be  saved.  And  now  "  testify 
against  me."  "  What  could  have  been 
done  more  to  my  vineyard  that  I  have 
not  done  in  it  1  Wherefore,  when  I 
looked  that  it  should  bring  forth  grapes, 
brought  it  forth  wild  grapes  ?"  Is  it 
that  you  have  not  been  warned,  though 
1  have  sent  my  servants  to  publish  my 
terrors  1  is  it  that  you  have  not  been 
entreated,  though  I  have  charged  them 
with  the  tidings  of  redemption  1  This, 
to  sum  all,  is  my  accusation  against 
you.  Ye  have  derived  your  being  from 
me,  ye  have  been  sustained  in  being 
by  me,  ye  have  been  continually  the 
objects  of  my  bounty,  continually  the 
objects  of  my  long-sufl!ering ;  and  ne- 
vertheless, ye  are  still  unmindful  of  my 
hand,  still  living  "  without  God  in  the 
world,"  still  walking  in  ways  of  your 
own  devising,  still  crucifying  my  SotP 
afresh,  and  putting  away  from  you  the 
offer  of  everlasting  life. 

What  have  you  to  say  against  this 


388 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


accusation  1  we  do  not  believe  that 
you  will  attempt  to  say  any  thing.  We 
are  persuaded,  that,  as  it  was  with  the 
man  who  had  not  on  the  wedding-gar- 
ment, you  will  be  speechless.  Ay,  but 
God  shall  not  want  an  answer,  he  shall 
not  want  a  verdict,  because,  self-con- 
demned, you  have  no  word  to  utter. 
Not  in  vain  hath  he  summoned  the 
mountains  and  the  strong  foundations 
of  the  earth  to  be  present  at  his  con- 
troversy with  you.  The  very  hills  have 
witnessed  his  loving-kindness  towards 
you,  clothed  as  they  have  been.with 
the  corn,  and  crested  with  the  fruits, 
which  he  has  bountifully  provided  for 
your  sustenance.  And  on  one  of  these 
mountains  of  the  earth  was  the  altar 
erected  on  which  his  Son  died  ;  and  so. 
fearful  was  the  oblation,  that  Calvary 
shook  at  the  cry  of  the  mysterious 
victim.  And  now,  therefore,  whilst  he 
charges  you  with  ingratitude,  whilst 
he  arrays  against  you  the  continued 
provocations,  the  insult,  the  neglect, 
Avhich  he  has  received  at  your  hands; 
whilst  he  speaks  of  abased  mercies,  of 
despised  opportunities,  of  resisted  en- 
treaties ;  and  you  remain  silent,  unable 
to  refute  the  charge,  and  yet  unwilling 
to  acknowledge  its  truth — there  is  a 
sound  as  of  heaving  rocks,  and  of  foam- 
ing torrents,  and  of  bursting  volcanoes  ; 
nature,  which  became  vocal  when  a 
Mediator  died,  utters  a  yet  deeper 
groan  now  that  a  Mediator  is  reject- 
ed :  and  hill  and  forest,  and  rock  and 
flood,  send  forth  one  mighty  cry,  the 
cry  of  amazement  that  men  should 
'*  neglect  so  great  salvation,"  the  cry 
of  acknowledgment  that  the  Almighty 
has  made  good  his  accusations. 

And  are  we  here  to  dissolve  the 
court  ?  Man  has  failed  to  show  where- 
in God  has  wearied. him  ;  but  God  has 
drawn  a  verdict  from  the  inanimate 
creation  that  he  himself  has  been  wea- 
ried by  man.  It  is  a  strange  expression 
to  use  ;  but  it  is  quite  consistent  with 
the  language  of  Scripture,  that  we 
should  speak  of  God  as  wearied  by  our 
sins.  "Ye  have  Avearied  the  Lord," 
Ave  read  in  the  prophet  Malachi,  "yet  I 
ye  say,  wherein  have  we  wearied  him  V 
"Hear,"  saith  Isaiah,  "  0  house  of  Da- 
vid ;  is  it  a  small  thing  for  you  to  wea- 
ry -men;  but  will  ye  weary  my  God 
also"?"  And  did  not  God  himself  say, 
by  the  mouth  of  the  same  prophet,  to 


those  who  rendered  him  hypocritical 
service,  "  your  new  moons,  and  your 
appointed  feasts,  my  soul  hateth  ;  they 
are  a  trouble  unto  me,  I  am  weary  to 
bear  them  V  We  will  not  then  dissolve 
the  court.  It  is  so  startling  a  consid- 
eration, that  we  should  be  actually  able 
to  weary  God  ;  the  thing,  if  done,  must 
entail  so  terrible  a  condemnation,  that 
we  may  well  remain  yet  a  few  moments 
longer  within  the  august  chamber  which 
was  built  for  the  controversy,  to  pon- 
der our  state,  and  examine  what  has 
been  proved  by  these  judicial  proceed- 
ings. It  is  very  clear,  that,  if  God  may 
be  wearied,  we  may  exhaust  his  pa- 
tience, so  that  he  may  be  provoked  to 
leave  us  to  ourselves,  to  withdraw  from 
us  the  assistance  of.  his  grace,  and  to 
determine  that  he  will  make  nofurtheif 
eflbrt  to  bring  us  to  repentance.  And 
on  this  account  especially  it  is,  that 
there  is  such  emphasis  in  the  words  of 
our  Savior,  "  agree  with  thine  adver- 
sary quickly,  while  thou  art  in  the  way 
with  him."  Try  not  his  patience  too 
far ;  venture  not  actually  into  court 
with  him;  but  quicklj^  without  any 
further  delay,  seek  to  compose  your 
difference,  "lest  at  any  time  the  adver- 
sary deliver  thee  to  the  judge,  and  the 
judge  deliver  thee  to  the  officer,  and 
thou  be  cast  into  prison."  It  is  this 
counsel  which  we  would  pray  God 
might  be  imprinted  by  our  discourse 
on  those  of  you  who  have  not  yet  been 
reconciled  to  their  Maker.  You  have 
indeed  come  this  night  into  court,  and 
you  have  been  altogether  cast  in  your 
suit.  But  the  trial  has  not  been  that 
which  will  fix  your  portion  for  eterni- 
ty. It  has  only  been  with  the  view  of 
alarming  you,  of  bringing  you  to  see 
the  perils  of  the  position  in  which  you 
stand,  that  God  has  now  entered  into 
controversy  with  you,  and  summoned 
you  to  plead  Avith  him  before  the  moun- 
tains of  the  earth.  And  the  verdict 
against  you,  which  has  been  delivered 
by  hill  and  forest,  is  but  a  solemn  ad- 
monition, a  warning  which,  if  duly  and 
instantly  heeded,  shall  cause  a  wholly 
diflerent  decision,  when  you  appear  at 
that  tribunal  whose  sentences  must  be 
final. 

The  mountains  and  the  strong  foun- 
dations of  the  earth,  yea,  the  whole  vi- 
sible creation,  may  again  be  appealed 
to  :  they  may  again  be  witnesses,  when 


PLEADING    BEFORE    THE    MOUNTAINS. 


389 


God  shall  arise  to  judgment,  and  call 
quick  and  dead  to  his  bar.  It  gives  a 
very  sublime,  though  awful,  character 
to  the  last  assize,  thus  to  regard  it  as 
imaged  by  the  controversy  in  our  text. 
I  see  a  man  brought  "to  the  judgment- 
seat  of  Christ :  the  accusation  against 
him  is,  that  he  lived  a  long  life  in  ne- 
glect and  forgetfulness  of  God,  enjoy- 
ing many  blessings,  but  never  giving 
a  thought  to  the  source  whence  they 
came.  Who  are  witnesses  against  him"? 
Lo,  the  sun  declares,  every  day  I  wak- 
ened him  by  my  glorious  shlnings, 
flooding  the  heavens  with  evidences  of 
a  God:  but  he  rose  without  a  prayer 
from  his  couch;  and  he  made  no  use 
of  the  light  but  to  prosecute  his  plans 
of  pleasure  or  gain.  The  moon  and 
the  stars  assert  that  ''  nightly,  to  the 
listening  earth"  they  repeated  the  story 
of  their  origin;  but  that,  though  they 
spangled  the  curtain  which  was  drawn 
round  his  bed,  he  lay  down,  as  he  rose, 
with  no  word  of  supplication  ;  and  that 
often  were  the  shadows  of  the  night 
used  only  to  conceal  his  guiltiness  from 
man.  Hills  and  valleys  have  a  voice  : 
forests  and  fountains  have  a  voice : 
every  feature  of  the  variegated  land- 
scape testifies  that  it  bore  the  impress 
of  a  God,  but  always  failed  to  awaken 
any  reverence  for  his  name.  There  is 
not  an  herb,  there  is  not  a  flower,  which 
will  be  silent.  The  corn  is  asserting 
that  its  ripe  ears  were  gathered  with- 
out thankfulness:  the  spring  is  mur- 
muring that  its  waters  were  drawn 
without  gratitude  :  the  vine  is  testify- 


ing that  its  rich  juices  were  distilled 
to  produce  a  false  joy.  The  precious 
metals  of  the  earth  are  all  stamped 
with  accusation,  for  they  were  sought 
with  a  guilty  avidity  ;  the  winds  of 
heaven  breathe  a  stern  charge,  for  they 
were  never  laden  with  praises ;  the 
waves  of  the  great  deep  toss  them- 
selves into  witnesses,  for  they  were 
traversed  by  ships  that  luxuries  might 
be  gathered,  but  not  that  Christianity 
might  be  diffused.  Take  heed,  man  of 
the  world,  how  thou  dost  thus  arm  all 
'  nature  against  thyself.  Be  warned  by 
the  voice  which  the  inanimate  creation 
is  already  uttering,  and  make  peace 
with  thine  adversary  ''whilst  thou  art 
in  the  way  with  him."  Thine  adver- 
sary!  and  who  is  thisl  Not  the  sun, 
not  the  moon,  not  the  troop  of  stars, 
not  the  forests,  not  the  mountains : 
these  are  but  witnesses  on  the  side  of 
thine  adversary.  The  adversary  him- 
self— oh  they  are  words  which  almost 
choke  the  utterance  ! — the  adversary 
himself  is  the  everlasting  God.  Yet  he 
wishes  to  be  your  friend  :  he  offers  to 
be  your  friend  :  there  is  nothing  but 
your  own  determination  which  can 
keep  you  at  enmit3^  By  the  terrors  of 
the  last  judgment,  by  all  the  hopes, 
by  all  the  fears  of  eternity,  do  I  con- 
jure such  of  you  as  have  not  yet 
made  peace  with  their  God,  to  turn  at 
once  to  the  Mediator  Christ :  "  God 
was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world 
unto  himself;"  and  now  he  beseeches 
you  through  us,  "  Be  ye  reconciled  un- 
to God." 


390 


HEAVBN. 


SERMON    XI. 


HEAVEN. 


*'  And  there  shall  be  no  night  there ;  and  they  need  no  candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun  ;  for  the  Lord  God 
["giveth  them  light:  and  they  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever." — Revelation,  22  :  5. 


Oar  position  upon  earth  is  repre- 
sented, as  you  well  know,  in  Scripture 
as  that  of  combatants,  of  beings  en- 
gaged in  a  great  struggle,  but  to  whom 
is  proposed  a  vast  recompense  of  re- 
ward. The  imagery  which  St.  Paul 
delights  to  use,  when  illustrating  our 
condition,  is  derived  from  the  public 
games  so  famous  in  antiquity.  The 
competitors  in  a  race,  the  opponents 
in  wrestling,  are  the  parties  to  whom 
he  loves  to  liken  himself  and  other  fol- 
lowers of  Christ.  And  the  imagery  is 
employed  not  only  as  aptly  depicting 
a  state  of  struggle  and  conflict  j  but 
because  they  who  entered  the  lists  in 
the  public  games  were  animated  by  the 
hope  of  prizes  which  success  was  to 
procure  ;  and  because,  in  like  manner, 
it  is  the  privilege  of  christians  to  know 
that,  if  they  be  faithful  to  the  end,  con- 
test will  issue  in  an  "  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory."  Shame  upon 
the  spiritual  combatants,  the  apostle 
seems  in  one  place  to  say,  if  they  can 
be  languid  in  exertion.  A  paltry  re- 
compense will  urge  the  wrestler,  or 
the  runner,  to  submit  to  painful  train- 
ing, and  to  strain  every  muscle.  Shall 
we  then,  with  heaven  full  in  view, 
grudge  the  toil,  or  spare  the  effort, 
which  may  be  needful  to  secure  a  por- 
tion in  its  joys  1  "They  do  it  to  ob- 
tain a  corruptible  crown,  but  we  an 
incorruptible." 

If  however  the  prize  is  to  produce 
its  just  influence  in  animating  to  exer- 
tion, it  must  be  often  surveyed,  that 
we  may  assure  ourselves  of  its  ex- 
cellence, and  therefore  long  more  for 
its  possession.  The  competitor  in  the 
games   had   the    honored   garland    in 


sight :  if  inclined  for  a  moment  to 
slacken,  he  had  but  to  turn  his  eye 
on  the  coronet,  and  he  pressed  with 
new  vigor  towards  the  goal.  It  should 
be  thus  with  the  christian,  with  the 
spiritual  competitor.  He  should  have 
his  thoughts  much  on  heaven  :  he 
should  refresh  himself  with  frequent 
glimpses  of  the  shining  inheritance. 
By  deep  meditation,  by  prayerful  stu- 
dy of  the  scriptural  notices  of  another 
world,  he  should  strive  to  prove  to 
himself  more  and  more  that  it  is  in- 
deed a  good  land  towards  which  he 
journeys.  He  should  not  be  content 
with  a  vague  and  general  belief,  that 
the  things  reserved  for  those  who  love 
God  must  be  worth  all  the  efforts  and 
sacrifices  which  attainment  can  de- 
mand. This  will  hardly  suffice,  when 
set  against  the  pleasures  and  allure- 
ments of  the  world  :  he  must  be  able 
to  oppose  good  to  good,  and  to  satisfy 
himself  on  the  evidence,  as  it  were,  of 
his  own  afl^ections,  that  he  prefers  what 
is  infinitely  best  in  preferring  the  fu- 
ture to  the  present. 

And  certainly  he  may  do  this.  With- 
out speaking  unadvisedly,  or  enthusi- 
astically, nay,  speaking  only  the  words 
of  soberness  and  truth,  we  may  safely 
say  that  those  who  muse  much  on  hea- 
ven, who  ponder  its  descriptions,  and 
strive  to  image  its  occupations  and 
enjoyments,  are  often  privileged  with 
such  foretastes  of  what  God  hath  pre- 
pared for  his  people,  as  serve,  like  the 
clusters  of  Eshcol,  to  teach  them  prac- 
tically the  richness  of  Canaan.  With 
them  it  is  not  altogether  matter  of  re- 
port, that  the  inheritance  of  the  saints 
is  transcendently  glorious  :  it  is  alrea- 


EEAVEN. 


391 


dy  true  in  part,  that,  "  as  they  have 
heard,  so  have  they  seen  in  the  city  of 
their  God."  They  have  waited  upon 
the  Lord,  until,  according  to  the  pro- 
mise of  Isaiah,  they  have  been  enabled 
to  "mount  up  witli  wings  as  eagles;" 
they  have  gazed  for  a  moment  on  the 
street  of  gold,  and  have  heard  the  harp- 
ings  of  the  innumerable  inultitude. 

Now  if  it  be  thus  of  exceeding  im- 
portance to  the  christian  that  he  should 
often  meditate  upon  heaven,  it  must  be 
the  duty  of  the  minister  to  bring  be- 
fore him  occasionally  those  descrip- 
tions of  the  world  to  come,  which  God 
has  been  pleased  to  furnish  in  his  word. 
And  a  very  delightful  part  this  is  of 
ministerial  duty.  We  are  often  con- 
strained to  set  forth  the  terrors  of  the 
Lcrd,  though  natural  feeling  would 
make  us  shrink  from  dwelling  on  the 
vengeance  which  will  surely  overtake 
the  careless  and  unbelieving.  We  are 
obliged  to  insist  very  frequently  on  the 
first  principles  of  Christianity,  "  laying 
the  foundation  of  repentance  from  dead 
works,  and  of  faith  towards  God."  And 
it  is  not  a  rare  thing,  that  sermons 
have  to  take  a  reproachful  character, 
exhibiting  the  sins  and  inconsistencies 
of  professors  of  godliness,  upbraiding 
the  defective  practice  of  those  who 
name  the  name  of  Christ,  and  urging 
them,  in  no  measured  terms,  to  "  walk 
worthy  of  the  vocation  wherewith  they 
are  called."  But  it  were  a  great  mis- 
take to  imagine  that  the  preacher  con- 
sults his  own  inclination,  in  selecting 
such  topics  of  discourse.  Far  more 
agreeable  to  him  would  it  be  to  dilate 
upon  privileges,  to  address  his  hearers 
simply  as  heirs  of  immortality,  and  to 
exhaust  all  his  energy  on  the  lively 
hope  to  which  they  are  begotten.  But 
this  must  hot  always  be,  whilst  con- 
gregations are  composed  of  the  be- 
lieving and  the  unbelieving,  whilst  pro- 
bably the  majority  is  with  the  latter, 
and  whilst  even  the  former  come  far 
short  of  "  adorning  the  doctrine  of 
God  the  Savior  in  all  things."  Still, 
as  we  have  already  said,  the  clergy- 
man is  not  only  permitted,  he  is  bound, 
to  take  heaven  occasionally  as  his 
theme:  and  a  very  refreshing  thing  to 
him  it  is,  when  he  may  devote  a  dis- 
course to  the  joys  which  are  in  reserve 
for  the  righteous.  Come  then,  men  and 
brethren,  we  have  no  terrors  for  you 


to-night,  no  reproaches,  no  threaten- 
ings.  We  are  about  to  speak  to  you  of 
the  New  Jerusalem,  the  celestial  city, 
into  which  "  shall  enter  nothing  that 
defileth,"  but  whose  gates  stand  open 
to  all  who  seek  admission  through  the 
suretyship  of  Christ. 

We  select  one  verse  from  the  glow- 
ing account  which  St.  John  has  left  us 
of  the  vision  with  which  he  was  favor- 
ed, after  tracing,  in  mystic  figures,  the 
history  of  the  church  up  to  the  general 
resurrection  and  judgment.  The  tw^o 
last  chapters  of  the  book  of  Revela- 
tion, inasmuch  as  they  describe  what 
was  beheld  after  the  general  judgment, 
must  be  regarded  as  relating  strictly 
to  the  heavenly  slate.  The  book  of 
Revelation  is  a  progressive  book:  it 
goes  forward  regularly  from  one  pe- 
riod to  a  following  ;  and  this  should  be 
always  borne  in  mind  when  we  strive 
to  fix  the  meaning  of  any  of  its  parts. 
It  has  so  much  the  character  of  a  his- 
tory, that  the  dates,  so  to  speak,  of  its 
chapters  will  often  guide  us  to  their 
just  interpretation.  And  since  the 
twentieth  chapter  closes  with  the  set- 
ting up  of  the  great  white  throne,  and 
the  judgment  of  every  man  according 
to  his  works,  we  conclude  that  what 
remains  of  the  book  belongs  to  that 
final  condition  of  the  saints,  which  we 
are  wont  to  understand  by  heaven  and 
its  joys.  This  being  allowed,  we  may 
go  at  once  to  the  examining  the  asser- 
tions of  our  text,  applying  them  with- 
out reserve  to  our  everlasting  inherit- 
ance. The  assertions  are  of  two  kinds, 
negative  and  positive.  They  tell  us 
what  there  is  not  in  heaven,  and  what 
there  is.  Let  these  then  furnish  our 
topics  of  discourse,  though  in  treat- 
ing of. the  one  we  shall  perhaps  find  it 
needful  to  trench  on  the  other.  Let  us 
consider,  in  the  first  place,  that  there 
is  no  night  in  heaven,  no  candle,  no 
light  of  the  sun  :  let  us  consider,  in  the 
second  place,  that  there  the  Lord  God 
Almighty  shall  give  the  saints  light, 
and  that  "  they  shall  reign  for  ever 
and  ever." 

Now  we  may  begin  by  observing  to 
you,  that,  with  our  present  constitu- 
tion, there  would  be  nothing  cheering 
in  an  arrangement  which  took  awav" 
night  from  our  globe.  The  alternation 
of  day  and  night,  the  two  always  mak- 
ing up  the  same  period  of  twenty-four 


392 


HEAVEN. 


hours,  is  among  the  most  beautiful  of 
the  many  proofs  that  God  fitted  the 
earth  for  man,  and  man  for  the  earth. 
"We  know  that  other  planets  revolve  in 
very  different  times  on  their  axis,  so 
that  their  days  and  nights  are  of  very 
different  lengths  from  our  own.  We 
could  not  live  on  one  of  those  planets. 
We  could  not,  at  least,  conform  our- 
selves to  the  divisions  of  time  :  for  we 
require  a  period  of  repose  in  every 
twenty-four  hours,  and  could  not  sub- 
sist, if  there  were  only  to  come  such  a 
period  in  every  hundred,  or  in  every 
thousand.  The  increased  length  of  the 
period  would  avail  us  nothing  :  it  would 
not  be  adapted  to  the  human  machine  : 
we  could  not  sleep  for  three  of  our 
present  days,  and  so  be  fitted  to  keep 
awake  for  ten.  Thus  the  present  divi- 
sion of  time  has  clearly  been  appoint- 
ed with  reference  to  our  constitution  : 
we  have  been  made  on  purpose  for  a 
wbrld  which  revolves  in  twenty-four 
hours,  or  that  world,  if  you  will,  has 
been  made  on  purpose  for  us.*  Since 
then  we  require  the  present  alternation 
of  light  and  darkness,  we  may  fairly 
say  that  it  is  no  pleasant  image  to  the 
mind,  that  of  a  world  without  night :  it 
is,  at  least,  only  by  supposing  a  great 
change  to  pass  on  our  constitution  and 
faculties,  that  Ave  can  give  to  the  image 
any  thing  of  attractiveness. 

And  besides  this,  it  is  very  easy  to 
speak  of  night  as  the  season  of  drea- 
riness and  gloom,  as  the  representa- 
tive of  ignorance  and  error — but  what 
should  we  be  without  night  1  Where 
is  there  so  eloquent  an  instructor  as 
night  1  What  reveals  so  much  of  the 
workmanship  of  the  ever-living  God? 
Imagine  this  world  to  have  been  always 
without  night,  and  what  comparatively 
would  its  inhabitants  have  known  of 
the  universe  1  It  would  have  seemed 
to  them,  at  least  to  those  on  the  ir- 
radiated hemisphere,  that  their  own 
globe  and  the  sun  made  up  creation. 
They  might  have  studied  the  wonders 
which  overspread  the  earth,  and  have 
surveyed,  with  admiration  and  delight, 
the  glorious  face  of  the  ever-changing 
landscape.  But  they  could  not  have 
gazed  on  the  mighty  map  of  the  firma- 
ment:  they  could  scarcely  have  even 
conjectured  that  space,  in  its  remotest 

*  See  Wliewc'll's  Bridgfwater  treatise,  "  Length 
of  the  Day." 


I  depths,  was  crowded  with  systems  and 
constellations,  and  that  the  world  on 
which  they  trode  was  but  the  solitary 
unit  of  a  sum  which  imagination  was 
too  weak  to  tell  up.  So  that  night,  with 
all  its  obscurity  and  concealment,  re- 
veals unspeakably  more  to  us  than  day  : 
then  it  is  that  the  astronomer  goes 
forth  on  his  wondrous  search,  passing 
through  region  after  region,  studded 
splendidly  with  star  and  planet :  the 
sun,  by  his  very  brightness,  has  hidden 
from  him  all  this  rich  jewelry  of  the 
heavens  ;  and  it  is  not  till  set  as  a  dia- 
dem round  the  forehead  of  darkness 
that  he  is  able  to  look  on  its  lustres. 
So  that  there  is  not  necessarily  any 
thing  very  desirable  in  the  absence  of 
night :  it  would  be  the  reverse  of  a 
blessing  to  us  in  our  present  condition, 
and  would  imply  the  diminution  rather 
than  the  enlargement  of  knowledge. 

What  then  are  we  to  learn  from  the 
statement,  that  there  shall  be  no  night 
in  heaven?  We  learn  much,  Avhether 
you  take  it  literally  or  metaphorically  ; 
whether,  that  is,  it  be  the  natural,  or 
the  figurative,  night,  whose  total  ab- 
sence is  affirmed.  Night  is  now  grate- 
ful, yea  necessarj'',  to  us,  as  bringing 
quiet  and  repose  to  overwrought  bodies 
and  minds.  We  cannot  prosecute  any 
labor,  however  profitable,  any  studj"^, 
however  interesting,  without  granting 
ourselves  periods  of  rest :  we  may  sore- 
ly grudge  the  interruption ;  we  may 
endeavor  to  abbreviate  the  periods: 
but  nature  imperiously  claims  her  time 
of  slumber,  and  is  sure  to  avenge  its 
undue  abridgment  by  the  weariness  and 
waste  of  every  power.  But  all  this 
arises  from  the  imperfectness  of  our 
present  condition :  we  are  so  consti- 
tuted that  we  cannot  incessantly  pur- 
sue either  occupation  or  enjoyment, 
but  must  recruit  ourselves  by  repose 
whether  for  business  or  pleasure.  And 
it  would  evidently  be  to  raise  us  very 
greatly  in  the  scale  of  animated  being, 
to  make  it  no  longer  needful  that  we 
should  have  intervals  of  rest ;  body  and 
soul  being  incapable  of  exhaustion,  or 
rather  of  fatigue.  What  a  mind  would 
that  be  which  could  continue,  hour  af- 
ter hour,  yea,  day  after  day,  intent  on 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  iiever 
pausing  for  a  moment  to  giye  breath- 
ing time  to  its  powers,  but  advancing 
in  unwearied  march  from  one  height 


HEAVErf. 


393 


to  another  of  truth.  And  what  a  body 
would  that  be,  which  should  never,  bj^ 
any  want  or  inCirmity,  detain  or  hinder 
such  a  mind,  but  rather  serve  as  its 
auxiliary,  aiding  and  upholding  i-n  its 
ceaseless  investigations,  in  place  of  re- 
quiring it  to  halt  for  the  recruiting  of 
the  flesh. 

It  is  such  a  change,  such  an  advance- 
ment, in  our  condition,  which  appears 
indicated  by  there  being  no  night  in 
heaven.  There  is  no  night  there,  be- 
cause there  we  shall  need  no  periods 
of  inactivity:  we  shall  never  be  sensi- 
ble of  fatigue,  and  never  either  wish  or 
want  repose.  It  shall  not  be  as  now, 
when  we  must  stop  in  the  pursuit  of 
what  we  long  for,  or  become  incapable 
of  pursuit,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of 
what  we  love,  or  become  incapable  o[ 
enjoyment.  Never  tired  by  performing 
God's  will,  never  wearied  by  celebra- 
ting his  praises,  we  shall  feel  always 
the  freshness  of  the  morning,  always 
as  at  the  beginning  of  a  day,  and  yet 
be  alwaj's  as  far  off  as  ever  from  its 
close.  It  is  given  as  one  characteristic 
of  Deity,  that  he  never  slumbers  nor 
sleeps.  It  is  afHrmed  moreover  of  the 
four  living  creatures  which  are  round 
about  the  throne,  that  they  "  rest  not 
day  and  night,  saying,  Holy,  holy,  holy 
Lord  God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is, 
and  is  to  come."  So  that  it  is  a  per- 
fection to  need  no  sleep :  it  is  to  be 
like  the  very  highest  of  created  intelli- 
gences ;  nay,  it  is  to  be  like  the  very 
Creator  himself.  And,  therefore,  I  read 
the  promise  of  a  splendid  exaltation,  of 
an  inconceivable  enlargement  of  every 
faculty  and  capacity,  in  the  announce- 
ment of  the  absence  of  night.  This  my 
mind,  which  is  now  speedily  overtasked, 
which  is  jaded  by  every  increase  of 
knowledge,  which  breaks  down,  as  it 
were,  if  urged  beyond  a  certain  point, 
shall  never  be  obliged  to  withdraw  from 
the  contemplation  of  the  august  won- 
ders of  h'eaven.  This  my  body,  whose 
wants  unavoidably  engage  much  of  my 
attention,  whose  weaknesses  incapaci- 
tate me  from  continuous  application, 
w^iich  is  little  better  than  a  drag  upon 
the  spirit  when  it  would  soar  towards 
the  dwelling-place  of  God,  shall  have 
ortrans  and  senses  for  aidinof  the  soul 
in  her  incessant  inquiries,  powers  which 
shall  never  flag,  but  seem  perpetually 
invigorated  through  being  perpetually 


employed.  Hov/  glorious  then  the  prom- 
ise of  advancement,  contained  in  the 
promise  of  there  being  no  night  in  hea- 
ven. All  feebleness,  all  remains  and 
traces  of  imperfection,  for  ever  remo- 
ved, the  saints  shall  spring  to  a  sur- 
prising height  amongst  orders  of  crea- 
tion, fitted  not  only  in  their  intellectual 
part,  but  even  in  their  material,  to  serve 
God  without  a  pause,  and  to  enjoy 
whilst  they  serve  him. 

And  though  it  be  true  that  night 
now  discloses  to  us  the  wonders  of 
the  universe,  so  that  to  take  from  us 
night  were  to  take  a  revelation  of 
the  magnificence  of  creation,  whence 
comes  this  but  from  the  imperfection  of 
faculties — faculties  which  only  enable 
us  to  discern  certain  bodies,  and  under 
certain  circumstances,  and  which  pro- 
bably suffer  far  more  to  escape  them 
than  they  bring  to  our  notice  1  We 
speak  of  the  powers  of  vision,  and  very 
amazing  they  are,  giving  us  a  kind 
of  empire  over  a  vast  panorama,  so 
that  we  gather  in  its  beauties,  and  com- 
pel them,  as  though  by  enchantment,  to 
paint  themselves  in  miniature  through 
the  tiny  lenses  of  the  ej'e.  But  never- 
theless how  feeble  are  these  powers! 
bodies  of  less  than  a  certain  magnitude 
altogether  escape  them  j  the  micro- 
scope must  be  called  in,  though  this 
only  carries  the  empire  one  or  two  de- 
grees lower  :  whilst  other  bodies,  aeri- 
al for  example,  or  those  which  move 
with  extraordinary  velocity,  are  either 
invisible,  or  only  partially  discerned. 
And  is  it  not  on  account  of  this  feeble- 
ness of  power,  that  the  eye  asks  the 
shadows  of  night  before  it  can  survey 
the  majestic  troop  of  stars  1  That  troop 
is  on  its  everlasting  march,  as  well 
whilst  the  sun  is  high  on  the  firma- 
ment, as  when  he  has  gone  down  amid 
the  clouds  of  the  west ;  and  it  is  only 
because  the  eye  has  not  strength  to 
discern  the  less  brilliant  bodies,  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  luminary  of  the 
heavens,  that  it  must  wait  for  darkness 
to  disclose  to  it  the  peopled  scenes  of 
immensity. 

I  glory  then  once  more  in  the  pre- 
dicted absence  of  night.  Be  it  so,  that 
night  is  now  our  choice  instructor, 
and  that  a  world  of  perpetual  sunshine 
would  be  a  world  of  crposs  ifrnorance  : 
I  feel  that  night  is  to  cease,  because 
we  shall  no  lonofer  need  to  be  taucht 
50 


3?4. 


HEAVE.\. 


through  a  veil,  because  we  shall  be 
able  to  read  the  universe  illuminated, 
and  not  require  as  now  to  have  it  dark- 
ened for  our  (raze.  It  is  like  tellinsf  me 
of  a  surprising  increase  of  pov/er ;  I 
shall  not  need  night  as  a  season  of  re- 
pose, I  shall  not  need  night  as  a  medi- 
um of  instruction.  I  shall  be  adapted 
in  every  faculty  to  an  everlasting  day, 
a  day  whose  lustres  shall  not  obscure 
the  palest  star,  and  yet  shall  paint  the 
smallest  flower  ;  and  throughout  whose 
unbroken  shining,  creation  v/ill  conti- 
nually present  me  with  fresh  wonders, 
and  find  me  always  prepared  to  inspect 
them. 

And  if  from  considering  night  in  its 
more  literal,  we  pass  to  the  considering 
it  in  its  metaphorical  sense,  who  can 
fail  to  be  struck  with  the  beauty  and 
fulness  of  the  promise  of  our  text  1 
We  are  accustomed  to  take  night  as 
the  image  of  ignorance,  of  perplexity, 
of  sorrow.  And  to  affirm  the  absence 
of  night  from  the  heavenly  state  may 
justly  be  regarded  as  the  affirming  the 
absence  of  all  which  darkness  is  used 
to  represent.  "  There  shall  be  no  night 
there,"  the  ways  of  providence  shall 
be  made  clear;  the  mysteries  of  grace 
shall  be  unfolded;  the  "things  hard  to 
be  understood"  shall  be  explained  ;  we 
shall  discover  order  in  what  has  seem- 
ed intricate,  wisdom  in  what  we  have 
thought  unaccountable,  and  good  where 
we  have  seen  only  injury.  "There 
shall  be  no  night  there:"  children  of 
afiliction,  hear  ye  this:  pain  cannot 
exist  in  the  atmosphere  of  heaven,  no 
tears  are  shed  there,  no  graves  opened, 
no  friends  removed  ;  and  never,  for  a 
lonely  moment,  does  even  a  flitting 
cloud  shadow  the  deep  rapture  of  tran- 
quillity. "  There  shall  be  no  night 
there:"  children  of  calamity,  hear  ye 
this :  no  bafiied  plans  there,  no  frustra- 
ted hopes,  no  sudden  disappointments  ; 
but  one  rich  tide  of  happiness  shall  roll 
through  eternity,  and  deepen  as  it  rolls. 
"There  shall  be  no  night  there:"  ye 
who  are  struggling  with  a  corrupt  na- 
ture, hear  ye  this:  the  night  is  the 
season  of  crime  ;  it  throws  its  mantle 
over  a  thousand  enormities  which  shun 
the  face  of  day.  And  to  say  that  "  there 
shall  be  no  night,"  is  to  proclaim  the 
reign  of  universal  purity:  no  tempta- 
tion there,  no  sinful  desires  to  resist, 
no  evil  heart  to  battle  with  :  but  holi- 


ness shall  have  become  the  very  nature 
of  the  glorified  inhabitants,  and  the  very 
element  in  which  they  move.  Oh,  this 
mortal  must  have  put  on  immortality, 
and  thiscorruptible  incorruption,ere  we 
can  know  all  the  meaning  and  richness 
of  the  description  which  makes  heaven 
a  place  without  night.  But  even  now  we 
can  ascertain  enough  to  assure  us,  that 
the  description  keeps  pace  with  all  that 
even  imagination  can  sketch  of  the  no- 
bility and  felicity  of  the  inheritance  of 
the  saints.  I  behold  man  made  equal 
with  the  angels,  no  longer  the  dwarf- 
ish thing  which,  at  the  best,  he  is, 
whilst  confined  to  this  narrow  stage, 
but  grown  into  mighty  stature,  so  that 
he  moves  amid  the  highest,  with  capa- 
cities as  vast  and  energies  as  unabat- 
ing.  I  behold  the  page  of  universal 
truth  spread  before  him,  no  obscurity 
on  a  single  line,  and  the  brightness  not 
dazzling  the  vision.  I  behold  the  re- 
moval of  all  mistake,  of  all  misconcep- 
tion :  conjectures  have  given  place  to 
certainties;  controversies  are  ended, 
difficulties  are  solved,  prophecies  are 
completed,  parables  are  interpreted.  I 
behold  the  hushing  up  of  every  grief, 
the  wiping  away  every  tear,  the  pre- 
vention of  every  sorrow,  the  commu- 
nication of  every  joy.  I  behold  the  fi- 
nal banishment  of  whatsoever  has  alli- 
ance with  sinfulness,  the  splendid  re- 
impressment  of  every  feature  of  the 
divine  image  upon  man,  the  unlimited 
diffusion  of  righteousness,  the  trium- 
phant admission  of  the  fallen  into  all 
the  purities  of  God's  presence,  and  their 
unassailable  security  against  fresh  apos- 
tacy.  1  behold  all  this  in  the  picture  of 
a  world  Vvithout  night:  and  I  feel  as 
though  I  did  not  need  the  wall  of  sap- 
phire, and  the  gate  of  pearl,  with 
which  the  evangelist  has  decked  the 
New  Jerusalem  ;  I  long  for  that  city, 
and  1  know  that  it  must  be  ineffably 
beautiful,  inconceivably  desirable,  when 
I  have  heard  him  simply  assert.  "And 
there  shall  be  no  night  there." 

We  go  on  to  observe  that  St.  John 
is  not  content  with  affirming  the  ab- 
sence of  night  :  he  proceeds  to  assert 
the  absence  of  those  means  or  instru- 
ments, to  which  we  are  here  indebted 
for  the  scattering  of  darkness.  Had  he 
confined  himself  to  saying  that  there 
would  be  no  night  in  heaven,  you  might 
have  understood  him  to  mean  that  the 


HEAVEN. 


3S5 


sun  will  never  set  in  heaven ;  or  that 
if  it  did,  there  would  be  so  rich  an  ar- 
tificial illumination  as  would  prevent 
its  radiance  being  missed.  But  there 
is  to  be  no  sun :  neither  is  the  want 
of  the  sun  to  be  supplied  as  now  by 
the  lamp  or  the  torch.  "  They  need  no 
candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun."  And 
what  then  is  to  make  their  perpetual 
day'?  We  must  turn  to  the  second  di- 
vision of  our  subject ;  we  must  consi- 
der what  there  is  in  heaven,  that  we 
may  gather  the  lessons  taught  by  what 
there  is  not.  "For  the  Lord  God  giv- 
eth  them  light."  We  wish  you  to  ob- 
serve the  peculiarity  of  the  expres- 
sion, ''they  need  no  candle,  neither 
light  of  the  sun."  The  candle  and  sun 
are  removed,  only  because  no  longer 
required.  And  then  a  reason  is  sub- 
joined why  the  inhabitants  of  heaven 
have  no  further  use  for  the  candle  or 
the  sun,  "  for  the  Lord  God  giveth 
them  light."  They  have  light  in  the 
next  world  as  well  as  in  this ;  but  there 
is  a  great  difference  in  the  mode  or 
channel  of  communication  5  they  ob- 
tain it  there  immediately,  or  direct- 
ly, from  God,  whereas  here  it  comes 
through  certain  agencies  or  instru- 
ments which  God  is  pleased  to  appoint 
and  employ.  And  if  you  understand 
light  as  here  used  metaphorically,  a 
natural  thing  being  put  for  a  mental 
or  spiritual,  you  will  see  at  once  that 
this  removal  of  the  sun  and  candle, 
and  this  substitution  of  God  himself 
as  the  source  of  illumination,  indicates 
an  amazing  change  in  the  mode  of  ac- 
quiring knowledge.  In  another  verse 
of  the  description  of  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem, you  have  the  assertion  of  a  simi- 
lar absence,  and  of  a  similar  substitu- 
tion. "  I  saw  no  temple  therein  :  for 
the  Lord  God  Almighty  and  the  Lamb 
are  the  temple  of  it."  There  is  to  be 
no  need  hereafter  of  those  ordinances, 
those  ministrations,  those  sacraments, 
through  which,  as  channels,  God  is 
here  pleased  to  communicate  grace : 
the  saints  shall  be  privileged  with  di- 
rect and  open  intercourse  :  they  shall 
be  environed  with  manifestations  of 
Deity  ;  these  shall  be  their  sanctuary  ; 
and  having  thus  access  to  God  and  the 
Lamb,  they  will  no  longer  require  the 
rites  and  institutions  of  an  earthly  dis- 
pensation. We  suppose  this  to  be  what 
is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  God  will 


be  the  temple  of  the  heavenly  city, 
though  the  fact  itself  far  exceeds  our 
comprehension.  A  temple,  builded  of 
Godhead,  its  walls  his  attributes,  its 
roof  his  majesty,  its  gates  his  eternity! 
And  to  worship  in  this  temple,  to  live 
in  this  temple,  to  worship  God  in  God! 
there  is  a  wonderfulness  here  which  is 
not  to  be  overtaken  by  all  our  strivings; 
for  who  can  imagine  to  himself  the 
everlasting  Creator  condescending  to 
become  as  a  sanctuary  to  the  children 
of  men,  the  gorgeous  cathedral  into 
whose  recesses  they  may  penetrate, 
and  at  whose  altars  they  may  do  ho- 
mage 1  We  can  feel,  0  God,  that  the 
universe  is  thy  temple  ;  we  are  over- 
whelmed by  the  thought,  that  thou 
thyself  wilt  be  the. temple  of  the  uni- 
verse ! 

And  we  suppose  that  just  the  same 
truth  is  again  indicated  by  St.  Paul, 
when,  in  writing  to  the  Corinthians,  he 
draws  a  contrast  between  our  present 
and  our  future  state  of  being.  "  Now 
we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then 
face  to  face :  now  I  know  in  part,  but 
then  shall  I  know  even  as  also  I  am 
knov^n."  We  refer  especially  to  the 
first  part  of  this  contrast,  in  which  the 
comparison  lies  betvv'een  the  modes  in 
which  knowledge  is  to  be  acquired. 
He  affirms  that,  in  this  world,  we  see 
only  "through  a  glass,  darkly,"  or,  as 
it  is  in  the  original,  in  a  riddle  or  enig- 
ma. We  behold  nothing  but  the  image 
of  God,  as  reflected  from  his  works 
or  dealings,  which  serve  as  so  many 
glasses  or  mirrors.  But  hereafter  we 
are  to  behold  God  "  face  to  face;"  not, 
that  is,  by  reflected  rays,  but  by  direct ; 
not  as  in  a  mirror,  but  by  open  vision, 
standing  in  his  presence,  and  gazing, 
as  it  were,  on  his  countenance.  And  it 
must  be  the  drift  of  these  various  re- 
presentations, that  we  are  hereafter  to 
be  admitted  into  such  communion  or 
intercourse,  that  there  will  be  no  need 
of  any  of  those  intermediate  appoint- 
ments through  which  we  are  now 
brought  into  acquaintance  with  God. 
The  whole  apparatus  of  mirror,  and 
temple,  and  sun,  will  be  taken  away, 
because  we  shall  be  admitted  to  the 
beatific  vision,  to  all  those  immedi- 
ate manifestations  of  Deity  which  are 
vouchsafed  to  the  angel  or  the  arch- 
angel. We  know  not  what  these  may 
be.  We  will  not  even  dare  to  conjee- 


396 


HEAVEN, 


tuve  what  it  is  to  behold  God  "  face 
to  face;"  for  we  remember  that  there 
must  always  be  an  untravelled  separa- 
tion between  the  infinite  Being  and  all 
finite  :  and  we  may  not  therefore  doubt, 
that,  even  in  the  most  intimate  revela- 
tion of  himself,  God  majestically  hides 
the  wonders  of  his  nature.  Yet  we  may 
be  sure  that  discoveries  are  vouchsafed 
in  heavenly  places,  which  throw  into 
the  shade  the  richest  that  can  be  ob- 
tained upon  earth  ;  and  that,  whatever 
the  degree  or  sense  in  which  a  created 
intelligence  can  look  upon  the  uncre- 
ated, in  that  it  will  be  permitted  to 
us  to  behold  "  the  King  immortal,  in- 
visible." 

And  this  marks  a  sublime,  though  an 
inconceivable  change  in  our  powers 
and  privileges.  I  am  wonderfully  struck 
by  this  abstraction  of  the  material  sun 
from  our  firmament,  and  this  making 
God  himself  the  immediate  source  of 
our  light,  though  I  can  hardly  give  con- 
sistency or  shape  to  the  strugglino- 
thoughts  which  the  imagery  excites. 
Imagine,  but  you  cannot  imagine  ;  and 
what  is  language  to  do  when  even  im- 
agination is  at  fault  1  yet  make  an  ef- 
fort; think  of  the  sudden  quenching  of 
that  luminary  which  nov/  daily  "  com- 
eth  forth  as  a  bridegroom  from  his 
chamber,  and  rejoiceth  as  a  strong  man 
to  run  a  race;"  but  this  extinction  of 
the  sun  not  followed  by  darkness,  but 
by  irradiations  such  as  have  never  yet 
fallen  on  this  earth.  It  is  a  glorious 
thing  now,  when  the  golden  beams  of 
day  flood  the  canopy  of  heaven,  and 
forest,  and  mountain,  and  river,  are 
beautiful  with  light.  Glorious  is  it,  yea 
and  very  demonstrative  of  Deitj-,  when 
the  whole  creation  wakes  up  at  the  sum- 
mons of  the  morning,  as  though  the 
trumpet  had  sounded,  and  the  vast 
grave  of  night  were  giving  back  the 
cities  and  the  solitudes  which  had  gone 
down  into  its  recesses.  But  now  we 
are  to  have  no  sun;  the  hand  of  the 
Almighty  hath  quenched  it;  and  never- 
theless we  are  not  encompassed  with 
the  shadows  of  the  evening,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  dazzled  with  a  radiance 
immeasurably  surpassing  that  of  the 
noontide.  In  place  of  a  firmament,  lit 
up  by  the  shinings  of  a  material  body, 
we  have  the  infinite  vault  converted 
into  one  brilliant  manifestation  of  God-  j 
head;    the    splendid    coruscations   of| 


righteousness,  and  truth,  and  justice, 
and  loving-kindness,  weaving  them- 
selves together  to  form  the  arch  ;  and 
the  burning  brightness  of  Him  who 
cannot  ''  look  on  iniquity,"  glancing  to 
and  fro  like  the  lightning,  though  not 
to  scathe,  but  only  to  illuminate.  What 
think  you  of  living  beneatli  such  a  ca- 
nopy 1  What  think  you  of  having  divi- 
nity, in  all  the  blaze  of  his  attributes, 
thus  glowing  throughout  immeasurable 
space,  and  pouring  his  own  lustre  on 
every  object  in  creation,  so  that  the 
universe  would  be  nothing  but  the  one 
shining  forth  of  Godhead;  and  each 
star,  each  leaf,  each  water-drop,  be  but 
as  a  spark  IVom  those  eyes  which,  St. 
John  saith,  ''were  as  a  liame  of  firel'^ 
O  Persian,  thy  superstition  has  become 
truth  ;  we  are  not  idolaters,  and  yet 
may  now  worship  the  sun. 

And  though  this  is  but  treating  our 
text,  as  if  the  change  which  it  indi- 
cates were  to  be  literally  understood, 
it  may  help  us  to  the  forming  some 
idea  of  what  is  intended,  when  light 
is  taken  metaphoricall}',  as  here  put 
for  knowledge.  The  change  appears  to 
mark,  as  we  have  already  intimated, 
the  removal  of  all  that  instrumentality 
which  has  been  constructed  and  em- 
ployed for  the  bringing  us  into  some 
degree  of  acquaintance  with  God,  as 
though  we  had  grown  into  manhood, 
and  Qould  dispense  with  the  proces- 
ses and  restraints  of  our  early  educa- 
tion. At  present  we  cannot  see  God  : 
we  can  only  study  his  works  and  ways, 
and  gather  from  them  inadequate  no- 
tions of  his  character  and  attributes. 
But  hereafter  so  strengthened  will  be 
our  faculties,  so  enlarged  our  capaci- 
ties, and  so  exalted  our  place  amongst 
orders  of  creation,  that  God  will  be 
visible  to  tis  in  such  sense  as  he  is  vi- 
sible to  any  finite  beings;  not  in  dim 
shadow,  and  mystic  type,  and  material 
representation,  but  in  the  splendor,  the 
spirituality,  the  immenseness,  the  eter- 
nity of  Deity.  We  shall  enter  the  pre- 
sence-chamber of  Godhead — for  a  pre- 
sence-chamber unquestionably  there  is, 
some  scene  in  which  He  who  is  every 
where,  whom  "the  heaven  of  heavens 
cannot  contain,"  the  inhabitant  of  all 
space  as  of  all  time,  unveils  his  stupen- 
dousness,  and  shows  himself  "as  he 
is  "  to  the  glorious  throng  of  worship- 
ping spirits.    In   this  throng  we  shall 


HEAVEK. 


397 


have  place  ;  in  this  presence-chamber 
we  shall  be  privileged  to  stand.  And 
who  can  fail  to  perceive  that  there  is 
hereby  indicated  an  amazing  change  as 
to  the  mode  of  acquiring  knowledge  1 
I  am  no  longer  to  be  taught  through 
any  intermediate  agency.  1  am  no  lon- 
ger to  be  taught  through  laborious  pro- 
cesses of  study  and  research.  I  am  to 
behold  God,  so  far  as  the  Creator  can 
be  beheld  by  a  creature.  I  am  to  learn 
from  actual  inspection,  the  mind  hav- 
ing the  powers  of  the  eye,  so  that 
the  understanding  shall  gather  in  the 
magnificence  of  truth,  with  the  same 
facility  as  the  organ  of  sense  the  beau- 
ties of  a  landscape.  There  will  be  no 
distance  between  ourselves  and  the  ob- 
jects of  contemplation,  no  turning  away 
of  the  mind  from  what  is  worthy  its  at- 
tention; but  so  strong  will  be  our  pro- 
pensity to  truth,  and  so  immediate  our 
perceptions,  that  we  shall  be  ahvays 
gazing  on  some  one  of  its  mighty  de- 
velopements,  and  be  no  more  liable  to 
mistake  or  misapprehension  than  the 
man  whose  eye  is  his  informant,  and 
who  has  to  believe  only  what  he  be- 
holds. 

"  They  need  no  candle.".  Creation, 
with  all  thy  bright  wonders,  I  ask  no 
longer  the  torch  with,  which  thou  hast 
furnished  me  in  my  searchings  after 
God  :  God  himself  is  before  me;  and 
what  further  need  can  I  have  of  thine 
aids  1  Ordinances  of  grace,  at  which  I 
have  here  trimmed  the  lamp  of  faith, 
ye  are  no  longer  requisite  ;  faith  itself 
is  lost  in  vision,  and  I  want  not  the 
instrumentality  through  which  it  was 
kept  burning.  Even  the  mediatorial 
office,  through  which  is  now  derived 
Avhatever  most  tends  to  illuminate  the 
understanding  and  warm  the  heart,  will 
no  longer  be  needed:  Christ,  who  is 
emphatically  "  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness," is  to  "deliver  up  the  kingdom 
to  God,  even  the  Father  ;"  its  designs 
being  all  completed,  its  ends  all  an- 
swered ;  for  v/hen  we  stand  face  to 
face  with  God,  what  further  use  will 
there  be  for  those  channels  through 
which  we  have  now  to  seek  access  1 

"  They  need  no  candle,"  nay,  they 
need  not  even  "  the  light  of  the  sun." 
"The  Lord  God  giveth  them  light ;"  is 
not  this  to  say  that  the  Lord  God  giv- 
eth them  himself  ?  for  you  will  remem- 
ber what  is  affirmed  by  St.  John,  "  This 


then  is  the  message  which  we  have 
heard  of  him,  and  declare  unto  you, 
that  God  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no  dark- 
ness at  all."  And  therefore  God,  in 
some  ineffable  way,  is  to  communicate 
himself  to  the  soul.  There  will  proba- 
bly be  a  communication  of  ideas:*  God 
will  substitute  his  ideas,  great,  noble, 
luminous,  for  our  own,  contracted,  con- 
fused, obscure ;  and  we  shall  become 
like  him,  in  our  measure,  though  par- 
ticipating his  knowledge.  There  will 
be  a  communication  of  excellences : 
God  will  so  vividly  impress  his  image 
upon  us,  that  we  shall  be  holy  even  as 
he  is  holy.  There  will  be  a  communi- 
cation of  happiness  :  God  will  cause 
us  to  be  happy  in  the  very  way  in 
which  he  is  happy  himself,  making 
what  constitutes  his  felicity  to  con- 
stitute ours,  so  that  we  shall  be  like 
him  in  the  sources  or  springs  of  en- 
joyment. All  this  seems  included  in 
the  saying  that  the  Lord  God  is  to 
give  us  light.  And  though  we  feel  that 
we  are,  but  laboring  to  describe,  by  all 
this  accumulation  of  expression,  what 
must  be  experienced  before  it  can  be 
understood,  we  may  yet  hope  that  you 
have  caught  sometiiing  of  the  grandeur 
of  the  thought,  that  God  himself  is  to 
be  to  us  hereafter  what  the  sun  in  the 
hrmament  is  to  us  here.  We  wish  you 
to  give,  if  possible,  something  of  defi- 
niteness  to  the  thought,  by  observing 
what  an  enlargement  it  supposes  of  all 
the  powers  of  our  nature  ;  for  now  it 
would  consume  us  to  be  brought  into 
intimate  intercourse  with  God ;  we 
must  have  the  sun,  we  must  have  the 
candle  ;  our  faculties  are  not  adapted 
to  the  living  in  his  presence,  where 
there  is  no  veil  upon  his  lustres.  Hence 
we  have  in  the  figurative  sketch  of  our 
text,  in  the  part  which  makes  God  the 
source  of  all  illumination,  as  well  as 
in  that  which  asserts  the  absence  of 
night,  a  representation  of  man  as  nobly 
elevated  amongst  orders  of  being,  and 
of  the  sublimest  knowledge  as  thrown 
open  to  his  search.  Man  is  elevated  ; 
for  he  has  passed  from  the  ordinances 
and  institutions  of  an  introductory 
state,  to  the  open  vision  and  free  com- 
munion of  spirits  who  never  sullied 
their  immortality.  The  sublimest  know- 
ledge is  made  accessible  ;  for  with  God 

*  Saurin. 


398 


HEAVEN. 


for  his  sun,  into  what  depths  can  he 
penetrate,  and  not  find  fresh  truths'? 
with  God  as  his  temple,  along  what 
aisle  of  the  stupendous  edifice  can  he 
pass,  and  not  collect  from  every  co- 
lumn, and  every  arch,  majestic  disco- 
veries'! where  can  he  stand,  and  not 
hear  the  pervading  spirit  of  the  sanc- 
tuary breathing  out  secrets  which  he 
had  vainly  striven  to  explore,  and  won- 
ders which  he  had  not  dared  to  con- 
jecture '?  And  thus,  if  it  be  a  blessed 
thing  to  know  that  hereafter,  set  free 
from  all  the  trainings  of  an  elementary 
dispensation,  we  shall  take  our  place,  in 
the  beauty  and  might  of  our  manhood, 
amongst  the  nobles  of  creation  ;  that, 
gifted  with  capacities,  and  privileged 
with  opportunities,  for  deriving  from 
immediate  contact  with  Deity  acquain- 
tance with  all  that  is  illustrious  in  the 
universe,  we  shall  no  longer  need  those 
means  and  agencies,  whether  of  nature 
or  grace,  which,  whilst  they  strengthen 
and  inform,  prove  us  not  made  perfect 
— yea,  if  it  be  a  blessed  thing  to. know 
this,  it  is  also  a  blessed  thing  to  hear 
that  there  shall  be  no  candle,  no  sun, 
in  the  heavenly  Jerusalem.  The  sub- 
stitution of  God  himself  for  every  pre- 
sent source  of  light,  is  among  the  most 
energetic  representations  of  a  change, 
which  lifts  man  into  dignity,  and  gives 
the  heights  and  depths  to  his  survey; 
and  I  feel  therefore,  that,  so  far  as  the 
ripening  of  our  powers  is  concerned,  or 
the  moral  splendor  of  our  heritage,  or 
the  freedom  of  our  expatiations,  de- 
scription has  well  nigh  exhausted  itself 
in  the  announcement  of  the  Evangelist, 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  new  Jerusa- 
lem "  need  no  candle,  neither  light  of 
the  sun  j  for  the  Lord  God  giveth  them 
light." 

We  would  observe  to  you  here, 
though  we  have  partly  anticipated  the 
statement,  that  the  expression,  "  the 
Lord  God  giveth  them  light,"  seems  to 
indicate  that  our  future  state,  like  our 
present,  will  be  progressive  :  there  is 
to  be  a  continued  communication  of 
light,  or  of  knowledge,  so  that  the  as- 
sertion of  Solomon,  "  The  path  of  the 
just  is  as  the  shining  light  that  shineth 
more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day," 
maybe  as  true  hereafter  as  here.  This 
might  be  gathered  from  what  has  been 
advanced  under  our  first  head  of  dis- 
course, but  it  deserves  to  be  more  ex- 


plicitly asserted.  Whatever  may  be 
the  attainments  of  the  just  man  whilst 
on  earth,  he  sees  onlj^  according  to 
the  words  already  quoted,  ''  through  a 
glass,  darkly."  How  much  of  what  he 
acknowledges  as  truth  is  profoundly 
mysterious!  what  difficulties  throng 
great  portions  of  Scripture  !  how  dark 
the  dispensations  of  Providence  !  what 
subject  for  implicit  faith  in  the  work- 
ings of  God's  moral  government !  With 
St.  Paul  he  is  often  forced  to  exclaim, 
when  musing  on  the  Almighty  and  his 
dealings,  "  how  unsearchable  are  his 
judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding 
out."  But  he  has  yet  to  pass  into  a 
scene  of  greater  light,  and  to  read,  in 
the  opened  volume  of  God's  purposes, 
the  explanation  of  difficulties,  the  wis- 
dom of  appointments,  the  nice  propor- 
tions of  truth.  And  assuredly  do  we 
believe  that  then  shall  there  break  on 
him  mighty  and  ever-amplifying  views 
of  all  that  is  august  in  the  nature  of 
God,  and  wonderful  in  his  works.  Then 
shall  the  divine  attributes  rise  before 
him,  unsearchable  indeed  and  unlimit- 
ed, but  ever  discovering  more  of  their 
stupendousness,  their  beauty,  their 
harmony.  Then  shall  the  mystic  fi- 
gures of  prophecy,  which  here  have 
crossed  his  path  only  as  the  shadows 
of  far-off  events,  take  each  its  place  in 
accomplished  plans,  schemed  and  will- 
ed by  the  everlasting  mind.  Then  shall 
redemption  throw  open  before  him  its 
untravelled  amplitude,  and  allow  of 
his  tracing  those  unnumbered  ramifica- 
tions which  the  cross,  erected  on  this 
globe,  may  possibly  be  sending  to  all 
the  outskirts  of  immensity.  Then  shall 
the  several  occurrences  of  his  life,  the 
dark  things  and  the  bright  which  che- 
quered his  path,  appear  equally  neces- 
sary, equally  merciful ;  and  doubt  give 
place  to  adoring  reverence,  as  the  pro- 
blem is  cleared  up  of  oppressed  righ- 
teousness and  successful  villany.  But 
it  shall  not  be  instantaneous,  this  reap- 
ing down  the  vast  harvest  of  know- 
ledge, this  ingathering  of  what  we  may 
call  the  sheaves  of  light,  seeing  that 
"  light,"  according  to  the  Psalmist, 
"  is  sown  for  the  righteous."  It  must 
continue  whilst  being  continues:  for 
if  the  mysteries  of  time  were  exhaust- 
ed, and  redemption  presented  no  un- 
explored district,  God  would  remain 
infinite  as  at  the  first,  as  sublime  in  his 


HEAVEN. 


399 


inscrutableness  as  though  ages  had  not  j  tion,  and  their  harps  be  swept  with  a 
been  given  to  the  searching  out  his  J  bolder  hand,  ,and  their  tongues  send 
wonders.  It  is  said  by  St.  Paul  of  the  i  forth  a  mightier  chorus.  Thus  will  the 
love  of  Christ,  and,  if  of  the  love,  then  |  just  proceed  from  strength  to  strength; 
necessarily  also  of  him  whose  love  it  i  knowledge,  and  love,  and  holiness,  and 
is,  that  it  "  passeth  knowledge."  But  I  joy,  being  always  on  the  increase;  and 
•if  never  to  be  overtaken,  it  shall  always  j  eternity  one  glorious  morning,  with 
be  pursued ;  and  we  gather  from  the  !  the  sun  ever  climbing  higher  and  high- 
expression  of  our  text,  an  expression  j  er;  one  blessed  spring-time,  and  yet 
which  clearly  marks  progressiveness,  rich  summer,  every  plant  in  full  flow- 
that  the  just*  man  will  continually  be  1  er,  but  every  flower  the  bud  of  a  love- 
admitted  to  richer  and  richer  discove-  j  lier. 

ries  of  God  and  of  Christ,  so  that  eter-  Ah,  my  brethren,  you  will  tell  us 
nity  will  be  spent  in  journeying  through  '  that  we  are  but  "  darkening  counsel  by 
that  temple,  which  we  have  already  de-    the  multitude  of  words  ;"  that  we  are 


scribed  as  the  Almighty  himself,  from 
whose  innermost  shrine,  though  always 
inapproachable,  shall  flash,  as  he  ad- 
vances, the  deeper  and  deeper  efful- 
gence of  Deity.  Aj)-,  and  if  knowledge 
be  thus  progressive,  so  also  shall  love 
be,  and  so   also  happiness.    In  giving 


in  fact  only  reiterating  the  same  state- 
ments; and  that,  in  place  of  describing 
heaven,  we  still  leave  it  to  be  describ- 
ed. We  plead  guilty  to  the  charge :  in 
our  eagerness  to  convey  to  you  some 
idea  of  heaven,  it  is  likely  that  we  have 
fallen  into    repetitions ;   and  we  have 


light,  the  sun  gives  also  heat.  It  cannot  '  too  lofty  thoughts  of  the  future  to  sup- 
be  that  the  just  man  should  thus  travel  |  pose  for  an  instant  that  our  descrip- 
into  the  perfections  of  his  Creator  and  I  tions  could  be  adequate.  .But  pause  for 
Redeemer,  and  not  admire  more,  and  a  moment:  our  great  object  in  attempt- 
adore  more,  and  bound  with  a  greater  !  ing  description  is  to  animate  you  to 
ecstasy.  As  fast  as  obscure  things  are  i  the  seeking  possession:  admit  then 
illuminated,  and  difficult  made  intelli-  j  that  description  is  at  fault,  and  we  may 
gible,  and  contradictory  reconciled,  |  yet  urge  you  by  the  indescribableness 
and  magnificent  unfolded,  there  will  be  1  of  heaven.  Yes,  by  the  indescribable- 
a  fresh  falling  down  before  the  throne,  ;  ness  of  heaven.  ^Yhat  had  St.  Paul  to 
a  fresh  ascription  of  praise,  a  fresh  say,  when  he  returned  from  the  third 
burst  of  rapture.  The  voice  which  is  i  heaven,  into  which  he  had  been  mys- 
to  be  from  the  first  "as  the  voice  of  i  teriously  translated!  Nothing,  abso- 
many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  a  lutely  nothing:  "  he  heard  unspeakable 
great  thujfider,"  shall  grow  louder  and  i  words,  which  it  is  not  lawful,  or  not 
louder — each  manifestation  of  Deity  ;  possible,  for  a  man  to  utter."  And  are 
adding  a  new  wave  to  the  rliany  wa-  j  you  disappointed  that  the  great  Apos- 
ters,  a  new  peal  to  the  great  thunder,  tie  has  nothing  to  communicated  He 
The  anthem  which  is  to  ascribe  wor-  i  gives  you  the  most  animating  descrip- 
thiness  for  ever  and  ever  to  the  Lamb,  \  tion,  in  assuring  you  that  heaven  is  not 
though  always  rushing  as  a  torrent  of  |  to  be  described.  It  would  be  but  a  poor 
melody,  seeing  that  it  is  to  issue  from  |  heaven  which  such  beings  as  ourselves 
"  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  could  comprehend  or  anticipate.  Give 
thousands  of  thousands  :" — what  an  or-    me  the    majestic    cloud,  the   oracular 


chestra !  who  would  not  hear,  who 
would  not  swell  the  roll  of  this  music? 
— shall  not  be  always  of  equal  strength  ; 
for  as  the  Lamb  discloses  to  his  church 
more  and  more  of  his  amazing  achieve- 
ment, and  opensnewtracts  of  the  conse- 
quences of  the  atonement,  and  exhibits, 
under  more  endearing  and  overcoming 
aspects,  the  love  v.-hich  moved  him, 
and  the  sorrows  which  beset  him,  and 
the  triumphs  which  attended  him ;  we 
believe  that  the  hearts  of  the  redeemed 
will  beat  with  a  higher  pulse  of  devo- 


veil,  the  mighty  shadows  which  recede 
as  we  advance,  filling  the  mind  with 
amazement,  but  forbidding  us  to  ap- 
proach and  examine  what  they  are.  I 
wish  to  be  defeated  in  every  effort  to 
understand  futurity.  I  wish,  when  I 
have  climbed  to  the  highest  pinnacle 
to  which  thought  can  soar,  to  be  com- 
pelled to  confess  that  I  have  not  yet 
reached  the  base  of  the  everlasting 
hills.  There  is  something  surpassingly 
glorious  in  this  bafiiing  of  the  imagi- 
nation.   It  is  vain  that  I  task  myself  to 


4.00 


HEAVEN. 


conceive  of  heaven,  but  it  is  a  noble 
truth  that  it  is  vain.  That  heaven  is 
inconceivable,  is  the  most  august,  the 
most  elevating  discovery.  It  tells  me 
that  I  have  not  yet  the  power  for  en- 
joying heaven  :  but  this  is  only  to  tell 
me,  that  the  beholding  God  "  face  to 
face,"  the  being  "  for  ever  with  the 
Lord,"  requires  the  exaltation  of  my 
nature  ;  and  I  triumph  in  the  assurance 
that  what  is  reserved  for  me,  presup'- 
poses  my  vast  advancement  in  the  scale 
of  creation.  If  we  would  have  sublime 
notions  of  a  glorified  man,  of  the  sta- 
tion which  he  occupies,  of  the  facul- 
ties which  he  possesses,  they  must  be 
the  notions  which  are  gained  by  inef- 
fectual efforts  to  represent  and  deline- 
ate: the  splendor  which  dazzles  so  that 
we  cannot  look,  the  immenseness  which 
we  cannot  grasp,  the  energies  for  which 
there  are  no  terms  in  human  speech, 
these  give  our  best  images  of  heaven. 
If  I  dare  rate  one  portion  of  Scripture 
above  another,  I  prefer  the  record  of 
the  vision  of  St.  Paul  to  that  of  the  vi- 
sions of  St.  John.  Wonderful  indeed 
were  the  manifestations  vouchsafed  to 
the  exile  in  Patmos.  The  spirit  of  the 
coldest  must  glow  as  the  beloved  dis- 
ciple delineates  what  he  saWj  the  tree 
of  life,  the  crystal  river,  the  white- 
robed  multitude,  the  glittering  city. 
But  the  attempt  to  describe  seems  to 
assume  the  possibility  of  description: 
and  to  prove  to  me  that  heaven  might 
be  described,  would  be  to  prove  to  me 
that  its  glory  was  not  transcendent,  its 
felicity  not  unbounded.  And  therefore 
I  am  more  moved  by  the  silence  of  St. 
Paul  than  by  the  poetry  of  St.  John. 
The  truth  is,  that  St.  Paul  was  more 
favored  than  St,  John.  St.  John  re- 
mained on  earth :  he  was  not  caught 
up  into  paradise :  and  the  gorgeous 
trains  which  swept  by  him  in  his  ec- 
stasy or  trance,  were  so  constructed 
and  clothed  as  to  be  adapted  to  a  hu- 
man comprehension.  But  St.  Paul  saw 
the  reality  of  heaven,  not  in  figure,  not 
in  type,  but  heaven  as  it  actually  is, 
heaven  as  it  will  appear  to  the  righte- 
ous, when  admitted  to  behold  "  the 
King  in  his  beauty."  And  hence  it  is 
not  strange  that  St.  Paul  must  be  si- 
lent, though  St.  John  had  marvel  upon 
marvel  to  relate.  I  turn  from  the  one 
to  the  other  :  and  though  fascinated  by 
the  spectacle  of  a  city  whose  "  foun- 


dations were  garnished  with  all  man- 
ner of  precious  stones,"  where  pain 
never  enters,  and  whose  temple  is  the 
Lord  God  Almighty,  I  learn  more,  and 
I  grow  more  hopeful,  and  I  am  more 
thronged  by  the  glories  of  the  future, 
when  I  find  St.  Paul  declaring  that  he 
had  heard  unspeakable  words.  ''  The 
things  Avhich  God  ^lath  prepared  for 
them  that  love  him,"  are  things  which 
the  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  the  ear 
heard,  nor  the  human  heart  conceived  : 
but  faithand  hope  may  both  be  strength- 
ened by  this  very  impossibility  of  our 
forming  just  ideas  of  iieaven  :  it  is  the 
loftiness  of  the  mountain  which  causes 
it  to  be  lost  in  the  clouds  :  we  may 
therefore  animate  ourselves  by  the 
thought,  that  thought  itself  cannot 
measure  our  everlasting  portion,  and 
be  all  the  more  cheered  when  we  find 
that  even  description  gives  no  distinct 
picture,  but  that  we  plunge  into  dark- 
ness when  striving  to  penetrate  all  the 
meaning  of  the  sayings,  "  There  shall 
be  no  night  there,  and  they  need  no 
candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun ;  for 
the  Lord  God  giveth  them  light." 

But  there  is  yet  a  clause  of  the  text 
to  which  we  have  given  no  attention, 
though  it  suggests  as  noble  thoughts  as 
any  of  the  preceding,  in  reference  to' 
our  everlasting  state.  "And  they  shall 
reign  for  ever  and  ever" — "  they  shall 
be  kings  for  ever  and  ever."  Wonder- 
ful assertion  !  wonderful,  because  made 
of  beings  apparently  insignificant,  be- 
ings of  whom  the  Psalmist,  after  sur- 
veying the  magnificence  of  the  hea- 
vens, was  forced  to  exclaim,  "  Lord, 
what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of 
him'?  or  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  vi- 
sitest  him  V  Yes,  of  us,  who  are  by 
nature  "  children  of  wrath,"  of  us,  who 
are  "  born  to  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly 
upwards,"  even  of  us  is  it  said,  "  They 
shall  be  kings  for  ever  and  ever."  And 
you  are  aware  that  this  is  not  a  solita- 
ry expression,  but  that  the  ascription 
of  regal  power  to  the  saints  is  common 
in  Scripture,  and  especially  in  the  book 
of  Revelation.  Our  Lord  himself  pro- 
mised to  his  apostles,  that,  "  in  the  re- 
generation" they  should  "sit  on  twelve 
thrones,  judging  the  twelve  tribes  of 
Israel."  "If  we  suffer  with  him,"  ex- 
claims St.  Paul,  in  reference  to  the 
Redeemer,  "  we  shall  also  reign  with 
him."    St.  John  ascribes  glory  and  do- 


HEAVEN. 


401 


minion  "  unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and 
washed  as  from  our  sins  in  his  own 
blood,  and  hath  made  us  kin<rs  and 
priests  unto  God  and  his  Father." 
And  the  famous  prophecy  of  the  first 
resurrection  will  naturally  occur  to 
you,  in  whicli  it  is  declared  of  the 
witnesses  for  the  Mediator,  that  "  they 
lived  and  reigned  with  Christ  a  thou- 
sand years."  Undoubtedly  this  last 
prediction,  however  interpreted,  must 
.have  reference  to  the  period  of  the 
millennium,  during  which  Christ  is  to 
take  visibly  on  himself  the  sovereignty 
of  the  earth,  having  erected  his  throne 
on  the  wreck  of  all  human  empire. 
What  offices  the  fsaints  are  to  have 
throughout  this  millennial  reign  we 
pretend  not  to  conjecture,  much  less 
to  decide.  Suffice  it  that  they  are  evi- 
dently to  participate  the  triumph  of 
their  Lord,  and  perhaps  to  have  sway 
under  him,  one  over  ten  cities,  another 
over  five,  according  to  the  number  and 
improvement  of  their  talents.  But  it  is 
not  to  the  millennium  that  our  text  re- 
fers': we  have  already  said  that  it  re- 
lates to  what  will  succeed  the  general 
judgment,  and,  therefore,  to  that  con- 
dition of  the  redeemed  which  will  be 
final  and  permanent. 

And  on  what  thrones  shall  we  sit  in 
heaven  1  over  whom  shall  we  be  in- 
vested with  dominion  1  Let  it  be  re- 
membered that  the  mediatorial  king- 
dom will  have  terminated.  The  Son 
himself  having  become  "  subject  to 
Him  that  put  all  things  under  Him." 
We  cannot  therefore  retain  any  such 
sway  as  the  saints  may  be  supposed  to 
have  possessed  throughout  the  mil- 
lennium :  the  whole  economy  will  be 
changed  ;  God  himself  will  be  "all  in 
all ;"  and  the  affairs  of  the  universe 
will  no  longer  be  transacted  through 
Christ  in  his  glorified  humanity.  And, 
nevertheless,  "  they  shall  reign,  they 
shall  be  kings,  for  ever  and  ever." 
They  shall  reign,  whilst  they  serve 
God  ;  they  shall  be  kings,  whilst  they 
are  subjects.  We  know  not  whether 
this  may  be  intended  to  denote  that 
the  saints  shall  have  authority,  or  prin- 
cipality, over  other  orders  of  being.  It 
may  be  so.  I  have  the  highest  possible 
thoughts  in  regard  of  the  future  digni- 
ty of  man.  I  believe  not  that  he  will 
be  second  to  any  but  God.  I  would 
not  change  his  place,  I  would  not  bar- 


ter his  crown,  for  that  of  the  noblest, 
the  first,  amongst  the  angels  of  heaven. 
For  no  nature  has  been  brought  into 
so  intimate  a  relation  to  the  divine  as 
the  human :  God  has  become  man,  and 
man  therefore,  we  believe,  must  stand 
nearest  to  God.  It  may  then  be,  see- 
ing that,  beyond  question,  there  will 
be  order  through  eternity,  a  gradation 
of  ranks,  a  distribution  of  authority, 
that  the  saints  will  be  as  princes  in  the 
kingdom  of  God;  that  through  them 
wilf  the  Almighty  be  pleased  to  carry 
on  much  of  his  government ;  and  that 
angels,  who  are  "ministering  spirits" 
to  them  during  their  moments  of  pro- 
bation, will  attend  them  as  their  mes- 
sengers during  their  ages  of  triumph. 
"  Know  ye  not,"  asks  St.  Paul  of  the 
Corinthians,  "that  we  shall  judge  an- 
gels'?" and  if  we  are  to  sit  in  assize 
on  the  evil  angels,  it  may  be  that  we 
shall  be  invested  with  royalty  over  the 
good. 

But  let  this  pass :  if  not  over  angels, 
I  can  yet  see  much  over  which,  if  I  gaui 
entrance  into  heaven,  I  shall  "  reign  for 
ever  and  ever."  I  connect  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  verse  ;  and  I  read  in  its 
last  clause,  only  differently  expressed, 
the  same  promise,  or  prophecy,  which 
I  find  in  all  the  rest.  I  shall  reign  over 
the  secrets  of  nature  :  all  the  work- 
manship of  God  shall  be  subject  to  me, 
opening  to  me  its  recesses,  and  admit- 
ting me  into  its  marvels.  I  shall  reign 
over  the  secrets  of  Providence  ;  my 
empire  shall  gather  back  the  past,  and 
anticipate  the  future  ;  and  all  the  deal- 
ings of  my  Maker  shall  range  them- 
selves in  perfect  harmony  before  my 
view.  I  shall  reign  over  the  secrets  of 
grace ;  the  mediatorial  work  shall  be 
as  a  province  subject  to  my  rule,  con- 
taining no  spot  in  all  its  spreadings 
which  I  may  not  explore.  I  shall  reign 
over  myself:  I  shall  be  thorough  mas- 
ter of  myself:  no  unruly  desires,  no 
undisciplined  affections:  I  shall  not  be, 
what  an  earthly  king  often  is,  his  own 
base  slave :  no  war  between  the  flesh 
and  the  spirit,  no  rebellion  of  the  will, 
no  struggle  of  corrupt  inclinations ;  but 
with  all  that  true  royalty,  the  royalty 
of  perfect  holiness,  I  shall  serve  God 
without  wavering,  and  find  his  service 
to  be  sovereignty. 

Glorious  empire!  what  can  animate 
us,  if  a  prospect  such  as  this  move  us 
51 


402 


HEAVEN. 


not  to  the  "  laying  aside  every  weight, 
and  the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset 
US'?"  Nevertheless,  let  us  see  to  it  that 
we  do  not  conclude  ourselves  on  the 
high  road  to  the  celestial  city,  just  be- 
cause we  have  some  tastes  and  feelings 
to  which  we  expect  to  find  there  the 
counterpart  objects.  We  must  warn 
you  against  mistaking  an  intellectual 
for  a  spiritual  longing,  the  wish  to  en- 
ter heaven  because  there  "  we  shall 
know  even  as  we  are  known,"  for  the 
wish  to  enter  it  because  God  himself 
will  there  be  "  all  in  all."  I  am  sure 
that  many  a  man,  in  whose  heart  is 
no  love  of  the  Creator  and  Redeemer, 
might  pant  for  a  state  in  which  he  shall 
no  longer  see  darkly  through  a  glass, 
but  have  full  sway  over  universal  truth. 
The  mind  may  struggle  for  emancipa- 
tion, and  crave  a  broader  field,  whilst 
the  soul  is  the  bondslave  of  Satan,  and 
has  no  vi^ish  to  throw  away  her  chains. 
Ay,  it  is  just  as  easy  to  dress  up  an  in- 
tellectual paradise  as  a  carnal,  and  to 
desire  the  one,  as  well  as  the  other, 
without  acquiring  any  meetness  "for 
the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light." 
The  heaven  of  the  mohammedan  is  full 
of  all  that  can  gratify  the  senses,  and 
pamper  the  appetites.  The  heaven  of 
the  philosopher  may  be  a  scene  in  which 
■  mind  is  to  reach  all  its  vigor,  and  sci- 
ence all  its  majesty.  But  neither  is  the 
heaven  of  the  christian.  The  heaven 
for  which  the  christian  longs,  is  the 
place  in  which  God  himself  shall  be 
his  '*  strength,  and  his  portion  for  ever." 
The  knowledge,  whose  increase  he  ar- 
dently wishes,  is  knowledge  of  him  who 
made  him,  and  of  him  who  redeemed 
him  :  for  already  hath  he  felt  that  "  this 
is  life  eternal,  to  know  thee,  the  only 
true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou 
hast  sent."  He  may  indeed  exult  in 
the  thought  that  hard  things  are  to  be 
explained,  and  dark  illuminated  ;  but 
only  that  he  may  find  fresh  cause  for 
praising,  admiring,  and  adoring  God. 
He  may  rejoice  in  the  assurance  that  a 
flood  of  splendid  light  will  be  poured 
alike  over  creation  and  redemption : 
but  his  great  motive  to  exultation  is, 
that  he  can  say  with  David  to  his  God, 
"  in  thy  light  shall  we  see  light,"  so 
that  the  irradiation  will  be  from  Deity, 
and  that  which  makes  visible  be  that 
upon  which  all  his  affections  are  fast- 
ened.   And  you  are  to  try  yourselves 


by  this  test.*  You  are  to  ask  yourselves 
whether  you  desire  heaven  because 
God  is  there,  because  Christ  is  there; 
whether,  in  short,  God  and  Christ  would 
be  to  you  heaven,  if  there  were  none 
but  these  to  be  beheld,  none  but  these 
to  be  enjoyed.  Unless  you  can  answer 
such  questions  in  the  affirmative,  you 
may  be  longing  for  heaven,  because  it 
is  a  place  of  repose,  because  departed 
kinsfolk  are  there,  or  because  man  shall 
there  be  loftily  endowed;  but  you  have 
none  of  that  desire  which  proves  a  ti- 
tle to  possession.  We  do  not  say  that 
such  reasons  are  to  have  no  weight : 
our  discourse  has  been  mainly  occu- 
pied on  the  setting  them  forth.  But 
they  are  to  be  only  secondary  and  sub- 
ordinate :  they  are  not  to  be  upper- 
most :  our  prime  idea  of  heaven  should 
be,  that  it  is  the  place  where  God 
dwells,  and  of  its  happiness,  that  God 
is  "all  in  all." 

But  having  delivered  these  cautions, 
we  may  again  exclaim,  Glorious  em- 
pire, which  is  promised  us  by  God  ! 
We  said,  in  the  commencement  of  our 
discourse,  that  we  would  utter  no  re- 
proaches, no  threatenings,  but  would 
dwell  exclusively  on  the  hopes  and 
privileges  of  christians.  And  we  are 
not  now  about  to  break  this  resolution : 
unless  indeed  it  be  to  break  it,  to  ex- 
press great  wonder,  and  bitter  regret, 
that,  when  men  might  be  heirs  of  a 
world  in  which  there  is  no  night,  of 
which  the  Lord  God  himself  is  the  sun, 
and  where  there  are  to  be  glorious 
thrones  for  those  faithful  unto  death, 
they  give  their  time  and  thought  to  the 
acquiring  some  perishable  good,  and 
live,  for  the'raost  part,  as  though  they 
had  never  heard  of  judgment  and  eter- 
nity. On  other  occasions,  we  often 
strive  to  move  the  careless  amongst 
you  by  "  the  terrors  of  the  Lord  ;"  we 
warn  them,  by  falling  stars,  and  a  moon 
"  turned  into  blood,"  and  a  sun  "  black 
as  sackcloth  of  hair,"  that  they  persist 
not  in  unrighteousness.  And  even  nov/ 
we  gather  our  incentives  from  a  strip- 
ped firmament  and  extinguished  lumi- 
naries. We  still  preach  to  the  worldly- 
minded  through  planets  which  have 
started  from  their  courses,  and  a  sun 
which  has  ceased  to  give  light.  And, 
nevertheless,  it  is  not  by  a  darkened, 
it  is  by  a  brilliantly  irradiated  sky,  that 
we  summon  them  to  repentance.    The 


god's  way  in  the  sanctuary. 


403 


bright  world  of  which  we  have  spoken, 
it  may  be  yours.  It  hath  been  thrown 
open  to  you  by  that  "  High  Priest  of 
our  profession,"  who  entered  "  by  his 
own  blood,"  and  took  possession  for 
himself  and  his  followers.  There  is  not 
one  of  us  who  may  not,  if  he  will,  secure 
himself  a  throne  in  this  everlasting 
kingdom.  "  Yet  there  is  room."  Myri- 
ads have  pressed  in,  myriads  are  press- 
ing in,  but  "  yet  there  is  room."   Alas, 


what  account  will  have  to  be  given  at 
the  judgment,  if  any  of  us  be  doomed 
to  outer  darkness,  in  place  of  passing 
into  a  world  where  there  shall  be  no 
night  1  What  but  that  we  wilfully  closed 
our  eyes  against  "  the  light  of  the  glo- 
rious Gospel,"  not  wishing  to  be  made 
aware  of  our  danger  and  corruption  1 
what  but  that  "  men  loved  darkness 
rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds 
were  evill" 


SERMON    XII. 


GOD'S    WAY    IN    THE    SANCTUARY 


"  Thy  way,  0  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary:  who  is  so  g^eat  a  God  as  our  God?" — Psalm  77  :  13. 


It  may  be  doubtful  whether,  in  speak- 
ing of  God's  way  as  "  in  the  sanctua- 
ry," the  Psalmist  designed  to  express 
more  than  that  God's  way  is  "  in  holi- 
ness." We  mean  that  it  does  not  seem 
certain  from  the  original,  that  he  in- 
tended to  make  any  such  reference  to 
the  Jewish  temple,  to  the  holy  place, 
or  the  holy  of  holies,  as  you  observe 
in  our  translation.  Bishop  Horsley's 
version  is,  "  0  God,  in  holiness  is  thy 
way  :  what  God  is  great  like  our  God  "?" 
There  does  not  however  appear  to  be 
any  positive  objection  against  the  com- 
mon rendering.  In  the  63d  Psalm,  com- 
posed whilst  David  was  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  therefore  excluded  from  the 
pwblic  ordinances  of  religion,  you  find 
the  words,  "  my  soul  thirsteth  for  thee, 
to  see  thy  power  and  thy  glory,  so  as 
I  have  seen  thee  in  the  sanctuary." 
Here  it  seems  almost  required,  by  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  psalm 
appears  to  have  been  written,  that  Ave 
should  adopt  the  translation,  "in  the 
sanctuary."  At  least,  there  is  an  appo- 
siteness  in  this  translation  which  there 
is  not  in  any  other  j  for  the  Psalmist 


was  undoubtedly  longing  for  those  re- 
ligious privileges  from  Avhich  he  was 
debarred,  privileges  only  to  be  enjoy- 
ed in  the  temple,  or  tabernacle,  at  Je- 
rusalem, and  of  which  he  had  there  of- 
ten and  thankfully  partaken.  But  the 
original  is  the  same  as  in  our  text :  we 
may  suppose,  therefore,  that  our  trans- 
lators were  not  without  warrant  when 
they  represented  the  psalmist  as  say- 
ing, "  Thy  way  is  in  the  sanctuary," 
and  not  "  Thy  way  is  in  holiness." 

We  own  that  we  should  be  sorry  to 
have  to  give  up  the  common  transla- 
tion, and  adopt  the  other  which  we 
have  mentioned.  There  are,  we  think, 
trains  of  very  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive thought  opened  by  the  statement 
that  God's  way  is  "  in  the  sanctuary," 
along  which  we  should  not  be  led  by 
considering  only  that  God's  way  is  "  in 
holine^."  At  the  same  time  it  should 
be  observed  that  whatever  truth  is  pre- 
sented by  the  latter  version  is  included 
in  the  former,  so  that  we  can  run  no 
risk  of  missing  the  meaning  of  the  pas- 
sage by  adopting  the  more  ample  ren- 
dering.   We  wish  you  further  to  re- 


4>04> 


sou's    WAY    IN    THE   SAKCTTJARY. 


mark,  that  the  triumphant  question  with 
which  our  text  concludes,  is  undoubt- 
edly suggested,  or  warranted,  by  the 
previous  statement  in  regard  of  God's 
way.  The  fact  that  God's  way  is  "in 
the  sanctuary,"  or  "in  holiness,"  forms 
evidently  the  argument  for  that  great- 
ness of  God,  that  superiority  of  Jeho- 
vah to  every  false  deity,  which  the  con- 
sequent challenge  so  boldly  asserts. 
And  without  at  all  questioning  that  the 
fact  of  God's  way  being  "  in  holiness" 
■would  well  bear  out  the  challenge,  we 
shall  perhaps  see,  in  the  sequel,  that 
yet  stronger  proofs  of  greatness  are 
furnished  by  the  fact  of  his  way  being 
"  in  the  sanctuary  :"  if  so,  these  rea- 
sons will  themselves  go  to  the  vindi- 
cating the  version  which  we  are  anx- 
ious to  retain. 

Now  it  would  not  have  been  right 
that  we  should  have  proceeded  at  once 
to  discourse  to  you  on  the  common 
translation,  without  premising  these 
few  critical  remarks.  It  is  very  easy 
to  lay  a  stress  on  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture, or  to  assign  them  a  meaning, 
■vvhich,  at  first  sight,  may  seem  just, 
but  which,  on  closer  examination,  they 
will  be  found  not  to  bear.  And  he  who 
may  endeavor  to  interpret  the  Bible  is 
required  to  be  very  honest,  frankly 
avowing  the  objections  which  may  lie 
against  his  statements ;  and  whereso- 
ever there  may  be  doubt  as  to  the  pre- 
cise sense  of  the  author,  not  presum- 
ing to  speak  with  any  thing  like  cer- 
tamty.  We  have  therefore  candidly 
shown  you  that  there  is  variety  of  opin- 
ion as  to  whether  there  be  any  refer- 
ence in  our  text  to  the  sanctuary  or 
temple.  But  we  have  also  shown  you 
grounds  on  which  we  seem  warranted 
in  assuming  that  there  is  such  a  refer- 
ence :  and  wc  may  now  proceed  to  dis- 
course on  this  assumption,  without  fear 
of  beino-  charged  with  attaching  undue 
weight  to  a  doubtful  expression. 

Now  the  psalm,  in  which   our  text 
occurs,  describes  great  alternations  of 
mind,  the  author  appearing  at  one  time 
almost  in  despair,  and  then  again  ga- 
thering confidence  from  the  attributes 
of  God.  Beset  with  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers, he  was  tempted  to  think  himself; 
abandoned  by  God,  so  that  he  patheti- 
cally exclaims,  "  Will  the  Lord  cast  ofTl 
for  ever,  and  will  he  be  favorable  no  j 
more  1"  He  soon  however  rejects  with  I 


abhorrence  a  thought  so  dishonoring 
to  God,  and  ascribes  his  entertaining 
it  to  spiritual  weakness  and  disease. 
"  And  1  said,  This  is  my  infirmity:  but 
I  will  remember  the  years  of  the  right 
hand  of  the  Most  High."  He  calls  to 
mind  what  deliverances  God  had 
wrought  for  his  people,  and  concludes 
that  they  were  pledges  of  future  assis- 
tance. "  I  will  remember  the  w^orks  of 
the  Lord ;  surely  I  will  remember  thy 
wonders  of  old."  And  hence  he  is  en- 
couraged: he  feels  that  God's  ways 
maybe  mysterious,  but  that  they  must 
be  good  ;  and  that  it  was  therefore  as 
much  his  privilege  as  his  duty  to  "  wait 
patiently"  upon  him.  This  appears  to 
be  the  feeling  which  he  expresses  in 
our  text :  he  has  taken  the  retrospect 
of  God's  dealings,  and  now  announces 
in  one  sentence  their  general  charac- 
ter, a  character  which  displays  the 
surpassing  greatness  of  their  author. 
There  is  no  reason,  then,  why  we 
should  make  a  confined  application  of 
our  text:  we  learn,  from  examining 
the  context,  that  the  works  and  won- 
ders of  the  Lord  suggest  to  the  Psalm- 
ist his  description  of  God's  way,  and 
we  may  therefore  regard  that  descrip- 
tion as  applying  in  general  to  all  the 
dealings  of  our  Maker.. 

We  have  now,  then,  a  clear  subject 
of  discourse,  a  general  description  of 
the  ways  or  dealings  of  God,  and  that 
description  furnishing  evidence  of 
God's  unequalled  greatness.  Let  it  be 
our  endeavor  to  establish  and  illustrate 
both  the  description  and  the  evidence; 
in  other  words,  let  us  strive  to  show 
you,  in  successive  instances,  how  true 
it  is  that  God's  way  "  is  in  the  sanctu- 
ary," and  what  cause  there  is  in  each 
for  exclaiming,  "  Who  is  so  great  a 
God  as  our  God  1" 

Now  we  would  first  observe  that 
there  was  a  peculiar  force  to  a  Jew  in 
this  reference  to  the  sanctuary,  and  in 
the  consequent  challenge  as  to  the 
greatness  of  God.  Under  the  legal  dis- 
pensation, every  divine  dealing  was 
closely  connected  with  the  temple  :  in 
the  temple  were  the  manifestations  of 
Deity,  the  signs  and  notices  of  mercies 
with  which  future  days  were  charged. 
There,  and  there  only,  could  God  be 
solemnly  worshipped  ;  there,  and  there 
only,  might  expiatory  sacrifices  be  of- 
fered ;  there,  and  there  only,  were  in- 


god's    WAT    IN    THE    SANCTUARY. 


405 


timationsoftheDivinewill  to  besought  I  for  Israel,  to  prophets  throwing  open 
or  obtained.  In  the  holy  of  holies,  on  \  the  future,  and  to  apostles  as  they  pub- 
the  mercy-seat,  overshadowed  by  the  i  lish  the  mysteries  of  a  new  dispensa- 


wings  of  cherubim,  dwelt  the  perpetual 
token  of  the  presence  of  the  invisible 
Creator ;  and  the  breast-plate  of  the 
high  priest,  glowing  with  mystic  and 
oracular  jewelry,  gave  forth,  in  the  so- 
litudes of  the  tabernacle,  the  messages 
of  Jehovah.  Wonderful  dispensation! 
beneath  which,  in  spite  of  all  its  dark- 
ness, there  were  burning  traces  of  the 
''goings  forth"  of  God,  and  in  spite  of  its 
shadowy  and  imperfect  character,  there 
were  direct  and  open  communications 
with  Him  "that  inhabiteth  eternity." 

But  of  all  its  wonders  the  temple 
might  be  declared  the  centre  or  seat  ; 
for  seeing  that  God  designed,  in  the 
fulness  of  time,  to  gather  all  things  in- 
to his  Son,  and  to  set  him  forth  as  the 
alone  source  or  channel  of  blessing, 
therefore  did  he  make  the  temple, 
which  typified  that  Son,  the  home  of 
all  his  operations,  the  focus  into  which 
were  condensed,   and  from  which  di 


tion,  we  find  the  discourse  always  bear- 
inff,  with  more  or  less  distinctness,  on 
one  and  the  same  subject :  the  latter 
speakers,  if  we  may  use  such  illustra- 
tion, turn  towards  us  a  larger  portion 
than  the  former  of  the  illuminated  he- 
misphere ;  but,  as  the  mighty  globe  re- 
volves   on    its   axis,   we    feel  that  the 
oceans  and  lands,  which  come  succes- 
sively into  view,  are  but  constituent 
parts    of    the    same    glorious   world. 
There  is  the  discovery  of  new  territo- 
ries ;  but,   as  fast  as  discovered,  the 
territories  combine   to    make  up   one 
planet.    There  is  the  announcement  of 
new  truths;  but,  as  fast  as  announced, 
they  take  their  places  as  parts  of  one 
immutable  system.  Indeed  there  is  vast 
difference  between  the  Epistles  of  St. 
Paul,  and  the  Psalms  of  David,  or  the 
prophecies  of  Isaiah.  But  it  is  the  dif- 
ference, as  we  have  just  said,  between 
the  landscape  whilst  the  morning  mist 


verged,  the  various  rays  of  his  attri-  j  yet  rests  on  half  its  villages  and  lakes, 
butes  and  dealings.  And  this  suggests  j  and  that  same  range  of  scenery  when 
to  us  the  speaking  for  a  few  moments  j  the  noontide  irradiates  every  spire  and 
on  a  point  of  great  importance,  the  I  every  rivulet.  It  is  the  difference  he- 
consistency  of  the  several  parts  of  re-  !  tween  the  moon,  as  she  turns  towards 
velation.  We  take  the  Bible  into  our  j  us  only  a  thin  crescent  of  her  illumina- 
hands,  and  examine  diligently  its  dif-  j  ted  disk,  and  when,  in  the  fulness  of 
ferent  sections,  delivered  in  different  j  her  beauty,  she  walks  our  firmament, 
ages  to  mankind.  There  is  a  mighty  and  scatters  our  night.  It  is  no  new 
growth  in  the  discoveries  of  God's  na-  \  landscape  which  opens  on  our  gaze,  as 
ture  and  will,  as  time  rolls  on  from  ere-  j  the  town  and  forest  emerge  from  the 
ation  to  redemption  ;  but  as  knowledge  i  shadow,  and  fill  up  the  blanks  in  the 
is  increased,  and  brighter  light  thrown  !  noble  panorama.  It  is  no  new  planet 
on  the  divine  purposes  and  dealings,  ]  which  comes  travelling  in  its  majesty, 
there  is  never  the  point  at  v^'hich  we  as  the  crescent  swells  into  the  circle, 
are  brought  to  a  pause  by  the  manifest  I  and  the  faint  thread  of  light  gives  place 
contradiction  of  one   part  to  another.  |  to  the  rich  globe  of  silver.    And   it  is 


no  fresh  system  of  religion  which  is 
made  known  to  the  dwellers  in  this 
creation,  as  the  brief  notices  given  to 
patriarchs  expand  in  the  institutions  of 
the  law,  and  under  the  breathings  of 
prophecy,  till  at  length,  in  the  days  of 
Christ  and  his  apostles,  they  burst  into 
magnificence,  and  fill  a  world  with  re- 
demption. It  is  throughout  the  same 
system,  a  system  for  the  rescue  of  hu- 
more  of  the  mist  is  rolled  away  from  |  mankind  by  the  interference  of  a  sure- 
tlie  horizon,  so  that  the  eye  includes  a  j  ty.  And  revelation  has  been  nothing 
broader  sweep  of  beauty.  If  we  hold  I  else  but  the  gradual  developeinent  of 
converse  with  patriarchs  occupying  I  this  system,  the  drawing  up  another 
the  earth  whilst  yet  in  its  infancy,  and  j  fftld  of  the  vail  from  the  landscape,  the 
then  listen  to  Moses  as  he  legislates  1  adding  another  stripe  of  light  to  the 


It  is  the  wonderful  property  of  the  Bi 
ble,  though  its  authorship  is  spread 
over  a  long  line  of  centuries,  that  it  ne- 
ver withdraws  any  truth  once  advan- 
ced, and  never  adds  new  without  giv- 
ing fresh  force  to  the  old.  In  reading 
the  Bible,  we  always  look,  as  it  were, 
on  the  same  landscape:  the  only  dif- 
ference being,  as  we  take  in  more  and 
more  of  its  statements,  that  more  and 


406 


GOD  S    WAY    IN    THB   SANCTUABT. 


crescent,   so  that  the  early  fathers  of  I  something  so  sublime  in  the  whole  sys- 
our  race,  and  ourselves  on  whom  "the  j  tern  of  a  theocracy  ;  the  interferences 


ends  of  the  world  are  come,"  look  on 
the  same  arrangement  for  human  deli- 
verance, though  to  them  there  was 
nothing  but  a  clouded  expanse,  with 
here  and  there  a  prominent  landmark ; 
whilst  to  us,  though  the  horizon  loses 
itself  in  the  far-alf  eternity,  every  ob- 
ject of  personal  interest  is  exhibited  in 
beauty  and  distinctness. 

But  if  we  may  affirm  this  thorough 
consistency  of  the  several  parts  of  Re- 
velation, we  may  speak  of  the  Jewish 
temple,  with  all  its  solemnities  and  ce- 
remonies, as  a  focus  for  the  rays  of  the 
divine  attributes  and  dealings;  seeino- 
that  into  Its  services  must  have  been 
mystically  gathered  the    grand  truths 
and  facts  which  have  been  successive- 
ly developed,  or  which  have  yet  to  be 
disclosed.    And  who  shall  tell  us  the 
emotions    with   which   a    devout   Jew 
must  have  regarded  the  temple,   that 
temple  towards  which,  if  he  chanced 
to  be  a  wanderer  in  a  foreign  land,  he 
was   bidden   to   turn,    whensoever   he 
sought  in  prayer  the  God  of  his  fathers, 
as  though  he  must  imagine  himself  ca- 
nopied by  its  lofty  architecture,  before 
he  could  gain  audience  of  his  Maker'? 
If  he  had  sinned,  he  must  go  up  to  the 
temple,  that  there  his  guilt  might  be 
expiated  by  the  blood  of  slain  beasts. 
If  he  had  become  ceremonially  defiled, 
he  must  go  up  to  the  temple,  that  there, 
through   certain    figurative    rites,    he 
might  be  restored  into  fellowship  with 
God's  people.    If  he  had    mercies  to 
acknowledge,   he    must  go  up  to  the 
temple,  that  he  might  there  express  his 
gratitude  in  eucharistical  offerings.    If 
he  needed,  in  some  extraordinary  cri- 
sis, direction  from  above,  he  must  go 
up  to  the  temple,  that  there  the  priest 
might  divine  for  him,  by  the  urim  and 
thummim,    the   course    which    it    was 
God's  will  that  he  should  take.    With 
what  deep  feeling,  therefore,  must  he 
have  confessed,  "  Thy  way,  O  God,  is 
in  the  sanctuary.    And  would  he  not, 
moreover,  as  he  mused  on  this  fact,  be 
led  to  the  acknowledging  and  admiring 
the  greatness  of  the  Lord?  We  do  not 
know,  that,  at  anytime,  or underanycir- 
cumstances,  God  has  vouchsafed  more 
striking  proofs  of  his  greatness,  than 
whilst  he  governed  Israel  from  the  ta*- 
bernacle  as   his    throne.     There  was 


of  an  invisible  King  were  so  awful,  be- 
cause, whilst  the  sceptre  was  swayed, 
there  was  apparently  no  hand  to  hold 
it  J*  the  sanctities  of  the  ark,  with  its 
symbolical  riches,  were  so  consuming 
and  so  conquering,  thousands  perish- 
ing through  a  rash  glance,  and  idols 
falling   prostrate ;  that  never  perhaps 
did  the  Almighty  give  such  tokens  of 
his  supremacy,  as  whilst,  without  the 
intervention  of  any  chief  magistrate, 
he  guided  and  ruled  the  twelve  tribes. 
And  even  when  the  affairs  of  the  Is- 
raelites were  administered  in  a  more  or- 
dinary way — as  was  the  case  when  our 
text  was  composed,  there  being  then  a 
king  in  Jerusalem — we  may  well  speak 
of  the  greatness  of  God  as  singularly 
exhibited  through  all    the   ordinances 
of  religion.    It  is   here    that  we  have 
need  of  what   has   been  advanced  on 
the    consistency  of  revelation.     How 
great  was  God  in  all  those  types  and 
emblems  which  figured    prophetically 
the    mysteries    of   redemption.     How 
great  in  arranging  a  complicated  sys- 
tem,  whose   august    ceremonies,    and 
pompous  rites,   might    serve  the  pur- 
pose of  keeping  a  fickle   people  from 
being  seduced  by  the  splendid    super- 
stitions of  the  heathen;  and  neverthe- 
less foreshow,  in  their  minutest  parti- 
culars, the  simple,  beautiful  facts  of  a 
religion,  whose  temple  was  to  be  the 
whole  world,  and  whose  shrine  every 
human  heart.  How  great  in  preserving 
a  knowledge  of  himself,  whilst  dark- 
ness, gross  darkness,  covered  the  na- 
tions; and  in  carrying  on  the  promise 
and  hope  of  a  Messiah,   through  age 
after  ^  age  of  almost  universal  aposta- 
cy.    How  great  in  ordaining  sacrifices 
which,  in  all  their  varieties,  represent- 
ed one  and  the  same  victim;  in  com- 
manding observances  so  numerous  and 
multiform  that  they  can  hardly  be  re- 
counted, but  which,  in  every  tittle,  had 
respect  to  the  same  deliverer;  in  ga- 
thering all  that  was  distant  into  each 
day,  and  each  hour,  of  an  introductory 
dispensation,  crowding  the  scene  with 
a  thousand  different    shadows,  but  all 
formed  by  light  thrown  on  one  and  the 
same  substance.  And  all  these  demon- 
strations, or  exhibitions,  of  greatness, 
were  furnished   from   the    sanctuary: 
the  temple  was  God's  palace,  if  you 


GODS    WAY    IJI    THE    SANCTUARf. 


407 


view  him  as  king  over  Israel;  and 
within  its  sacred  precincts  those  ce- 
lebrations took  place,  and  those  rites 
were  performed,  which  announced  a 
Redeemer,  and  in  some  sense  antici- 
pated his  coming.  Then  well  indeed 
might  the  Jew,  who  thought  on  God's 
way  as  "  in  the  sanctuary,"  break  into 
a  confession  of  the  greatness  of  God. 
We  know  not  precisely  the  time  when 
the  psalm,  in  which  our  text  occurs, 
was  composed  ;  whether  after  the 
building  of  the  temple,  or  whilst  "the 
ark  of  the  covenant  of  the  Lord  re- 
mained under  curtains."  But  suppose 
that  Solomon  had  already  reared  his 
magnificent  pile,  it  would  not  have 
been  the  grandeur  of  the  house  of  the 
Lord  which  would  have  filled  the  de- 
vout Jew  with  wonder  and  exultation. 
As  he  gazed  on  the  stupendous  struc- 
ture, it  would  not  have  been  because 
it  outdid  every  other  in  beauty  and 
majesty,  that  his  heart  would  have 
swelled  with  lofty  emotions.  He  would 
have  venerated  the  edifice,  because  it 
was  as  the  council-chamber  in  which 
Deity  arranged  his  plans,  and  the  stage 
on  which  he  wrought  them  gradually 
out  for  the  benefit  of  the  world.  As 
he  entered  its  courts,  he  would  have 
seemed  to  himself  to  enter  the  very 
place  where  all  those  mighty  affairs 
were  being  transacted,  which  were  to 
terminate,  in  some  far-ofT  season,  in  the 
emancipation  of  the  earth  from  wick- 
edness and  wretchedness.  On  every 
altar  he  would  have  seen  a  Redeemer 
already  offered  up  :  in  every  cloud  of 
incense  he  would  have  marked  the  as- 
cendings  of  acceptable  prayer  through 
a  Mediator:  in  the  blast  of  every  trum- 
pet he  would  have  heard  God  marshal- 
ling his  armies  for  the  final  overthrow 
of  Satan.  And  the  feeling  of  his  soul 
must  have  been,  "  Thy  way,  0  God,  is 
in  the  sanctuary."  Thy  way — I  can- 
not trace  it  on  the  firmament,  studded 
though  it  be  with  thy  works.  I  cannot 
trace  it  on  the  earth,  though  thou  art 
there  in  a  thousand  operations,  all 
eloquent,  and  all  worthy,  of  thyself.  I 
search  creation,  but  cannot  find  the 
lines  of  thy  way,  along  which  thou  art 
passing  to  the  fulfilment  of  thine  an- 
cient promises.  But  here  is  thy  way, 
here  in  thy  sanctuary.  Every  stone 
seems  wrought  into  the  pavement  of 
that  way :    every  altar  is  as  a  pillar 


which  shows  its  course :  every  sound 
is  as  the  sound  of  thy  footstep,  as  thou 
goest  forward  in  thine  awfulness.  And 
in  this,  yea,  in  this,  thou  art  amazing. 
I  should  have  marvelled  at  thee  less, 
had  thine  advancings  towards  the  con- 
summation of  thy  plan  been  audible 
through  the  universe,  than  now  that 
within  these  walls  thou  hast  space 
enough  for  the  march  of  a  purpose  in 
which  the  universe  has  interest.  Won- 
derful in  that,  through  what  goes  on  in 
this  house  builded  with  hands,  thou  art 
approximating  to  a  glorious  result,  the 
overthrow  of  evil,  and  its  extermi- 
nation from  thine  empire — yea,  more 
wonderful,  for  it  more  shows  thee  in- 
dependent even  on  the  instruments 
which  thou  dost  use,  than  if  thou  hadst 
taken  unnumbered  worlds  for  thy  scene 
of  operation,  passing  in  thy  majesty 
from  one  to  another,  and  causing  each 
to  be  a  beacon  on  the  track  of  redemp- 
tion. And  therefore,  oh,  what  can  I  do, 
after  feeling  and  confessing  that  "thy 
way,  0  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary,"  but 
break  into  a  challenge,  a  challenge  to 
angels  above,  and  to  men  below,  "who 
is  so  great  a  God  as  our  God  1" 

But  we  would  now  observe,  that,  by 
the  sanctuary,  we  may  probably  under- 
stand the  holy  of  holies :  for  it  was  in 
that  veiled  and  mysterious  recess  that 
the  Shekinah  shone,  the  visible  token 
of  the  Almighty's  presence.  However 
true  it  be  that  God's  way  was  in  the 
temple,  understanding  by  the  temple 
the  whole  structure  that  was  set  apart 
to  sacred  uses,  it  was  yet  more  empha- 
tically true  that  this  way  was  in  the 
sanctuary,  understanding  by  the  sanc- 
tuary that  part  within  the  veil,  into 
which  none  but  the  high  priest  was  al- 
lowed to  enter,  and  that  but  once  in 
the  year,  when  he  entered  as  a  type 
of  the  ]\Iediator  who,  having  shed  his 
blood  as  a  sacrifice,  carried  it  into 
heaven  to  present  it  as  an  intercessor. 
It  may  not  have  been  altogether  to  the 
temple  services,  to  the  ceremonies  and 
sacrifices  appointed  by  the  law,  that  the 
Psalmist  referred :  it  may  rather  have 
been  to  the  awfulness,  the  sanctity, 
the  privacy  of  that  spot  where  the  Al- 
mighty might  be  said  to  have  conde- 
scended to  take  up  his  abode.  In  say- 
ing that  God's  way  was  "in  the  sanc- 
tuary," he  may  have  designed  to  as- 
sert   the    impenetrable    obscurity    in 


408 


CfOD  S    WAY    IN    TII£    SAXCTDABT. 


which    the    divine    proceedings    were 
shrouded,  and  at  the  same    time    the 
inviolable  holiness  by  which  they  were 
distinguished  ;  and  then  the  concluding 
question  will  indicate  that  this  obscu- 
rity, and  this  holiness,  were  arguments 
or  evidences  of  the  greatness  of  God. 
And  it  will  not  be  diihcult  to  trace  the 
connection  between  the  several  parts 
of  our  text,  if  you  consider  the  sanctu- 
ary as  thus  put  for  the  qualities  or  pro- 
perties which  were   specially  pointed 
out  by  the  holy  of  holies.    You  are  to 
remember    that   the    sanctuary  was  a 
place  into  which  no  Israelite  but  the 
high  priest  might  ever  dare  to  enter, 
and   the   attempting  Jto    enter    which 
would  have  been  an  act  of  the  worst 
sacrilege,   certain   to  be  followed   by 
instant  and  fearful  vengeance.    What 
concealment  then  was  there  about  this 
sanctuary,  and  at  the  same  time  what 
purity!     He.  who  thought  on  the  holy 
of  holies  thought  on  a  solitude  which 
was  inaccessible  to  him,  though  close 
at  hand:  inaccessible,  even  as  the  re- 
motest depth  of  infinite  space,  though 
a  single  step  might  have  taken  him  in- 
to its  midst;  but,  at  the  same  time,  a 
solitude  where,  as  he  well  knew,  every 
thing  breathed   holiness,   every  thino- 
glowed  with  the  lustre  of  that  Being 
who  is  of  purer'eyes  than  to  look  upon 
iniquity.    And  to  say  of  God  that  his 
way  was  in  this  sanctuary,  what  was 
it  but  to  say  that  God  works  in  an  im- 
penetrable secrecy,  but  that,  neverthe- 
less, in  that  secrecy  he  orders  every 
thing  in  righteousness?-  These  are  facts 
with  which  we  ought  to  be  familiar,  and 
in  regard  of  which  we  should  strive  to 
keep  our  faith  firm.   We  may  not  hope 
to  understand  the  dealings  of  the  Lord : 
nay,  we  must  be  content  not  to  under- 
stand them  :  we  must  not  attempt  to  lift, 
with  presumptuous  hand,  the  veil  which 
conceals  the  place  in  which  they  origi- 
nate.   It  is  behind  that  curtain,  to  pass 
which  is  to  perish,  that  the  Almighty  ar- 
ranges his  purposes,  and  appoints  means 
for  their  consummation ;  and  though  we 
may  know  something  of  these  purpo- 
ses, as  they  appear  without  the  curtain 
in  their  progress  towards  completion, 
they  are  hidden  from  us  in  their  springs, 
and  must  often  therefore  be  quite  in- 
comprehensible. 

But  what  of  thisl    The  sublime  se- 
crecy in   which   God  dwells,    and   in 


which  he  works,  is  among  the  signal 
tokens   of  his  greatness.     In  nothing 
does  the  Supreme  Being  more  demand 
our  admiration  than  in  those  proper- 
ties which  caused   an    apostle   to  ex- 
claim, "How  unsearchable  are  his  judg- 
ments, and  his  ways  past  finding  out." 
It  is  a  proof  of  his  mercy  towards  us, 
and  a  source  of  vast  honor  to  himself, 
that  he  hides  himself  in  clouds,  and 
throws  around  his  goings  an  awful  ob- 
scurity. There  is  something  singularly 
noble  in  that  saying  of  Solomon,  in  the 
book  of  Proverbs,  "It  is  the  glory  of 
God  to  conceal  a  thing."  It  is  his  glo- 
ry, not  to  make  his  every  dealing  lu- 
minous,  so  that   his  creatures  might 
read  without  difficulty  its  design,  and 
admit  without  an  act  of  faith  its  excel- 
lence ;  but  to  involve  his  proceedings 
in   so   much    of   darkness,  that    there 
shall  be  a  constant  demand  on  the  sub- 
missiveness  and  trust  of  those  whom 
they  concern.    It  is  his   glory,    inas- 
much as  he  thus  takes  the  most  effec- 
tual mode  of  preserving  a  spirit  of  de- 
pendence on  himself,  in  beings  who  are 
prone  to  forget  a  first  cause,  and  to  as- 
cribe to  some  second  whatsoever  they 
fancy  they  can  trace  to  an  origin.  And 
very  wonderful  does  God  appear,  when 
thus  represented  as  seated  in  some  in- 
approachable'" solitude,  veiled  from  all 
finite  intelligence,  and  there  regulating 
the  countless  springs,  and  putting  in 
motion  the  countless  wheels  which  are 
to  produce  appointed  results  through- 
I  out   immensity.     It  is  not  that  he   is 
associated  with  myriads  of  wise  and 
ever-active  beings,  with  whom  he  may 
consult,  and  by  whom  he  may  be  as- 
sisted, in  reference  to  the  multitudin- 
ous transactions  of  every  day  and  eve- 
ry moment.    His  way  "  is  in  the  sanc- 
tuary."   He  is  alone,  majestically,  om- 
nipotently alone.  The  vast  laboratories 
of  nature,  he  presides  over  them  him- 
self. The  operations  of  providence,  they 
all  originate  with  himself.    The  work- 
ings of  grace,  they  confess  his  immedi- 
ate authorship.  My  brethren,  this  is  God 
in  his  sublimity.  God  in  his  stupendous- 
ness.  Let  .us  take  heed  that  we  attempt 
not  to  penetrate  his  solitudes :  let  it  con- 
tent us  to  worship  before  the  veil,  and  to 
know  that  he  is  working  behind  it:  why 
rashly  endeavor  to  cross  the  threshold 
of  the  holy  of  holies,  when  "  it  is  the 
glory  of  God  to  conceal  a  thing  1" 


GOD  S    WAY    IN    THE    SANCTUARY. 


409 


And  certainly  it  is  not  the  obscurity 
whicii  there  may  be  round  the  ways  of 
the  Lord  which  should  induce  a  suspi- 
cion that  those  ways  are  not  righteous. 
If  God  work  in  a  place  of  secrecy,  we 
know  that  it  is  equally  a  place  of 
sanctity  :  we  can  be  sure,  therefore,  of 
whatsoever  comes  forth  from  that  place, 
.  that,  if  involved  in  clouds,  it  is  invest- 
ed with  equity.  We  may  not  be  able  to 
discover  God's  reasons  :  but  we  can  be 
certain  from  his  attributes,  attributes 
which  shine  throusfh  the  vail,  though 
that  vail  be  impenetrable,  that  we 
should  approve  them  if  discovered. 
And  if  it  be  an  evidence  of  the  great- 
ness of  God,  that  his  way  is  hidden, 
we  scarcely  need  say  that  it  is  a  further 
evidence  of  this  greatness,  that  his 
way  is  holy.  That,  although  he  have 
to  deal  with  a  polluted  world,  with 
creatures  by  nature  "dead  in  trespas- 
ses and  sins,"  he  contracts  no  impu- 
ritj'",  but  keeps  travelling,  as  it  were, 
"  in  the  sanctuary,"  even  whilst  mov- 
ing to  and  fro  amid  those  who  have 
defiled  themselves  and  their  dwelling- 
place — what  is  this  but  proof  that  he 
is  immeasurably  separated  by  differ- 
ence of  nature,  from  all  finite  being ; 
that  he  is  verily  "  the  high  and  holy 
One  that  inhabiteth  eternity,"  the  high 
because  the  holy,  and  equally  the  holy 
because  the  highl  Indeed,  whilst  there 
is  every  thing  to  comfort  us,  there 
is  every  thing  also  to  give  us  lofty 
thoughts  of  God,  in  the  fact  that  God's 
way  "  is  in  the  sanctuary."  "  In  the 
sanctuary :"  I  may  not  enter,  I  may 
not  think  to  penetrate.  But  how  great 
must  be  the  Being  who  thus,  withdrawn 
from  all  scrutiny,  always  in  a  solitude, 
though  encompassed  with  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  waiting  spirits,  or- 
ders every  event,  directs  every  agent, 
consummates  every  purpose.  "  In  the 
sanctuary  :"  where  every  thing  is  of  a 
purity  that  dazzles  even  the  imagina- 
tion, on  whose  emblematic  furniture 
the  eye  may  not  look,  as  though  a  hu- 
man glance  would  dim  the  lustres  of 
its  gold.  How  righteous  must  be  the 
Being  who  thus  hides  himself  in  light, 
how  just  his  ways,  how  good  his  ap- 
pointments! Do  ye  not  seem  to  enter 
into  the  feeling  of  the  Psalmist  1  are  ye 
not  ready  to  pass  with  him  from  his 
confession  to  his  challenge  1  Come, 
place  yourselves  by  him,  as  he  may  be 


I  supposed  to  meditate  in  the  temple. 
I  He  calls  to  mind  the  dealings  of  God. 
How  much  that  is  perplexing,  how 
much  that  is  dark,  how  much  that  is 
incomprehensible !  Whither  shall  he 
turn  for  counsel  and  comfort  1  whence 
shall  he  draw  material  of  assurance, 
that,  notwithstanding  all  apparent  in- 
consistencies, notwithstanding  obscu- 
rity and  intricacy,  the  hand  of  the  Lord 
is  a  mighty  hand,  and  will  bring  to  pass 
whatsoever  is  best  1  His  eye  is  on  that 
vail  which  hides  from  his  gaze  the 
Shekinah,  and  the  mercy-seat,  and  the 
overshadowing  cherubim.  What  does 
the  solitude,  with  its  burning  and  beau- 
tiful wonders,  represent  1  what  means 
this  inaccessible  spot,  tenanted  by  De- 
ity, but  forbidden  to  man  1  Ah,  where- 
fore indeed  doth  God  thus  shrine  him- 
j  self  in  the  holy  of  holies,  unless  to 
I  teach  us  that  we  cannot  look  upon 
!  him  in  his  actings,  but  that,  neverthe- 
I  less,  those  actings,  though  necessarily 
I  inscrutable,  partake  the  sanctity  as 
well  as  the  secrecy  of  his  dwelling  1 
I  This  thought  may  be  supposed  to  oc- 
cupy the  Psalmist.  It  strengthens,  it 
animates  him  ;  it  should  strengthen,  it 
should  animate  you.  The  vail,  whilst 
it  hides,  reveals  Deity :  nay,  it  reveals 
by  hiding:  it  teaches  the  sublimity  of 
God,  inapproachable ;  his  independ- 
ence, none  with  him  in  his  workings  ; 
and  yet  his  righteousness,  for  it  is  the 
awful  purity  of  the  place  which  warns 
back  all  intruders.  Then  there  is 
enough  to  make  us  both  discover,  and 
rejoice  in,  the  supremacy  of  our  God. 
With  a  tongue  of  fear,  for  we  are  al- 
most staggered  by  the  mysteriousness 
of  his  workings,  we  will  confess, ''  Thy 
way,  O  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary :"  but 
with  a  tongue  of  triumph,  for  his  very 
concealments  are  tokens  of  his  Almigli- 
tiness,  we  will  give  utterance  to  the 
challenge,  "  Who  is  so  great  a  God  as 
our  Godi" 

But  there  can  be  no  reason  why  we 
should  confine  the  illustrations  of  our 
text  to  the  Jewish  temple  and  dispen- 
sation. We  may  bring  down  the  verse 
to  our  own  day,  understand  by  the 
sanctuary  our  own  churches,  and  still 
found  on  the  confession  in  the  first 
clause  the  challenge  which  is  uttered 
in  the  second.  You  must  all  be  prepa- 
red to  admit,  that,  under  the  christian, 
even  as  it  was  under  the  legal,  dispen- 
52 


410 


God's  way  in  the  sanctuart. 


sation,  God  specially  works  by  and 
through  the  public  ordinances  of  reli- 
gion, in  converting  sinners  and  bring- 
ing them  into  acquaintance  with  him- 
self. Perhaps  indeed  you  may  think 
that  it  could  not  have  been  to  such 
workings  as  these  that  the  Psalmist 
referred,  when  he  spake  of  God's  way 
as  ''  in  the  sanctuary,"  and  that  we  are 
not  therefore  warranted  in  making  that 
use  of  his  words  which  we  are  now 
about  to  make.  But  we  believe  that 
this  is  altogether  an  error,  and  that  the 
Psalmist  may  justly  be  considered  as 
speaking  of  the  sanctuary,  even  as  we 
now  speak  of  a  church,  as  a  place  of 
instruction  where  messages  are  to  be 
looked  for  from  God  to  the  soul.  The 
Psalmist  describes  himself  as  perplexed 
by  the  dealings  of  God,  and  then  as 
comforted  by  the  thought  that  God's 
way  "  is  in  the  sanctuary."  Now  if  you 
turn  to  the  seventy-third  psalm,  bear- 
ing the  name  of  the  same  author,  Asaph, 
as  is  borne  by  that  in  which  our  text 
occurs,  you  will  find  a  very  similar  de- 
scription of  perplexity,  and  of  comfort 
derived  in  some  way  from  the  sanctu- 
ary. The  writer  is  greatly  staggered 
by  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  and 
tempted  to  receive  it  as  an  evidence 
against  the  strictness  of  God's  moral 
government.  And  how  does  he  over- 
come the  temptation  '?  You  shall  hear 
what  he  says,  "  When  I  thought  to 
know  this,  it  was  too  painful  for  me  ; 
until  I  went  into  the  sanctuary  of  God  : 
then  understood  I  the  end."  He  ob- 
tained, you  perceive,  instruction  in  the 
sanctuary,  which  sufficed  to  the  remov- 
ing his  doubts,  and  the  restoring  his 
confidence  in  the  righteousness  of  the 
divine  dealings.  It  cannot,  therefore, 
be  an  unwarrantable  supposition,  that 
the  reference  to  the  sanctuary  in  our 
text,  is  a  reference  to  the  public  or- 
dinances of  religion  as  instrumental 
to  the  communicating  knowledge,  and 
the  strengthening  faith.  The  Psalmist 
is  again  perplexed  by  much  that  is  in- 
tricate in  the  dealings  of  God.  But 
again  he  bethinks  him  of  the  sanctu- 
ary :  he  remembers  that  God's  way 
"is  in  the  sanctuary" — in  other  words, 
that  God's  method  of  teaching  is  by 
and  through  the  ordinances  of  the 
sanctuary  j  and,  filled  with  gratitude 
and  wonder  that  there  should  be  such 
a  channel  of  intercourse  with  the  Crea- 


tor, he  breaks  into  an  acknowledgment 
of  his  unrivalled  greatness. 

Hence  we  seem  justified  in  transfer- 
ring the  verse  to  ourselves,  in  regard- ^ 
ing  it  simply  as  containing  an  argu- 
ment for  the  greatness  of  God,  drawn 
from  his  working  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  sermons  and  sacraments. 
His  "  way  is  in  the  sanctuary."  It  is. 
in  buildings  devoted  to  the  purposes 
of  his  worship,  and  through  the  minis- 
trations of  his  ordained  servants,  that 
he  commonly  carries  on  his  work  of 
turning  sinners  from  the  error  of  their 
ways,  and  building  up  his  people  in 
their  faith.  That  there  may  be  excep- 
tions to  such  a  rule  as  this,  no  one 
would  for  a  moment  dispute.  Cases 
unquestionably  occur  in  which  conver- 
sion is  effected  without  the  instrumen- 
tality of  a  sermon,  or  in  which  the 
soul  is  rapidly  edified,  though  debarred 
from  all  public  means  of  grace.  But 
nevertheless  the  general  rule  is,  that 
it  pleases  God  "  by  the  foolishness  of 
preaching,  to  save  them  that  believe," 
not  only,  you  observe,  to  bring  men  in 
the  first  instance  to  belief;  but  to  car- 
ry them  forward  in  godliness  till  belief 
issues  in  final  salvation.  We  magnify 
our  office.  We  claim  no  authority 
whatsoever  for  the  man :  but  we  claim 
the  very  highest  for  the  messenger,  the 
ambassador.  Again  and  again  would 
we  seize  opportunities  of  impressing 
upon  you  the  importance  of  entertain- 
ing just  views  of  the  ministerial  office. 
There  are  numbers  of  you,  we  must 
believe,  who  constantly  come  up  to 
God's  house  with  the  very  tempers  and 
feelings  which  you  would  carry  to  a 
lecture-room ;  with  all  that  excited  in- 
tellect, and  all  that  critical  spirit,  which 
fit  you  for  nothing  but  the  sitting  in 
judgment  upon  what  shall  be  delivered, 
as  upon  a  process  of  argument,  or  a 
specimen  of  elocution.  There  is  prac- 
tically no  recognition  of  the  commis- 
sion which  is  borne  by  the  man  who 
addresses  you,  no  influential  persua- 
sion of  his  being  an  appointed  messen- 
ger through  whom  you  may  hope  that 
God  will  graciously  infuse  light  into 
the  understanding,  and  warmth  into 
the  heart :  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  is 
thought  to  stand  before  you  with  no 
higher  claim  on  your  attention  than 
what  he  can  make  good  by  his  own 
mental  powers,  and   with  no  greater 


god's    "WAY    IN    THB    SANCTPART. 


411 


likelihood  of  speaking  to  your  profit 
than  is  furnished  by  his  own  skill  as  an 
expositor  of  truth.  And  upon  this  ac- 
count mainly  it  is,  as  we  have  been 
long  painfully  convinced,  that  there 
are  such  insufficient  results  from  the 
services  of  God's  house,  that  Sabbath 
after  Sabbath  passes  away,  and  scarce 
leaves  a  token  that  good  has  been 
wrought.  You  are  not  in  the  moral  at- 
titude which  is  presupposed  in  the  ap- 
pointment of  the  preacher.  You  are  in 
the  attitude  of  critics,  you  are  in  the 
attitude  of  a  jury,  having  to  pronounce 
a  verdict  after  hearing  certain  state- 
ments. But  the  preacher  is  not  before 
you  as  a  debater,  the  preacher  is  not 
before  you  as  a  pleader;  and  conse- 
quently your  attitude  is  just  the  re- 
verse of  that  which  ought  to  be  assum- 
ed :  the  preacher  is  before  you  as  an 
ambassador,  and  therefore  ought  you 
to  be  in  the  attitude  of  mere  listeners 
to  an  overture  from  the  God  whom  you 
have  offended,  of  expectants  of  a  com- 
munication from  him  in  whose  name 
the  preacher  addresses  you.  The  evil 
is,  you  do  not  feel  that  God's  way  ''  is 
in  the  sanctuary;"  and  therefore  you 
give  too  low  a  character  both  to  ser- 
mons and  sacraments,  failing  to  view 
in  them  the  appointed  instrumentality 
through  which  God  works  in  convert- 
ing and  confirming  the  soul. 

But,  nevertheless,  the  fact  remains, 
that  God's  Avay  "  is  in  the  sanctuary." 
And  a  very  surprising  fact  it  is,  one 
calculated  to  excite  in  us  the  highest 
thoughts  of  the  supremacy  of  God.  We 
wish  you  to  contrast  the  agency  with 
the  result.  We  are  always  much  struck 
with  the  expression  of  St.  Paul  to  Ti- 
mothy, "  in  doing  this,  thou  shalt  both 
save  thyself,  and  them  that  hear  thee." 
The  preacher,  who  is  to  be  an  instru- 
ment in  the  saving  of  others,  stands  in 
the  same  need  of  salvation  himself.  In 
the  great  work  of  gathering  in  the  na- 
tions, and  fixing  the  religion  of  Jesus 
in  the  households  and  hearts  of  the  hu- 
man population,  the  Almighty  makes 
not  use  of  lofty  agents  \vho  have  kept 
their  first  estate,  but  of  the  fallen  and 
feeble,  who  are  themselves  in  peril, 
themselves  but  wrestlers  for  immorta- 
lity. It  is  easy  to  imagine  a  difTerent 
arrangement.  In  his  Epistle  to  the  Ga- 
latians,  St.  Paul  has  supposed  the  case 
of  an  angel  from  heaven  discharging 


the  office  of  a  preacher  to  men.  It  might 
have  been  so.  In  place  of  assembling 
to  listen  to  the  exhortations,  and  re- 
ceive the  counsels,  of  one  who  shares 
with  you  your  sinfulness,  and  is  natu- 
rally under  the  same  condemnation, 
you  might  have  thronged  to  the  sanc- 
tuary, to  hearken  to  a  celestial  messen- 
ger, who  came  down  in  angelic  beauty, 
and  offered  you  in  God's  name  a  home 
in  the  land  from  which  he  had  descend- 
ed. And  we  cannot  doubt  that  you 
would  have  hung  with  surpassing  inte- 
rest on  the  lips  of  the  heavenly  speak- 
er; and  that  as,  with  an  eloquence,  and 
a  pathos,  and  a  persuasiveness,  such  as 
are  wholly  unknown  in  the  most  touch- 
ing human  oratory,  he  warned  you  a- 
gainst  evil  and  urged  you  to  righteous- 
ness, your  hearts  w^ould  have  burned 
within  you,  and  been  often  wrought  up 
to  a  resolve  of  pressing  towards  the  re- 
gion to  which  the  seraph  invited  you. 
We  fully  believe,  that,  if  some  myste- 
rious visitant,  unearthly  in  form  and 
raiment,  were  to  occupy  this  pulpit, 
a  deep  and  almost  painful  solemnity 
would  pervade  the  assembly;  and  that 
as,  in  tones  such  as  were  never  modu- 
lated by  human  organs,  and  words  such 
as  never  flowed  from  human  lips,  he 
'*  reasoned  of  righteousness,  temper- 
ance, and  judgment  to  come,"  there 
would  be  produced  on  the  mass  of  ri- 
veted listeners  an  effect,  which  might 
not  indeed  be  permanent,  but  which, 
for  the  time,  would  be  wholly  without 
parallel  in  all  that  is  ascribed  to  power- 
ful speaking.  Neither  can  it  be  thought 
that  an  angel  would  preach  with  less 
affection  than  a  man,  because  not  ex- 
posed to  our  dangers,  nor  linked  with 
us  by  any  natural  ties.  We  know  that 
angels  watch  for  the  repentance  of  sin- 
ners ;  that,  when  the  poorest  of  our  race 
returns,  like  the  prodigal,  to  his  Fa- 
ther, a  new  impulse  is  given  to  their 
happiness;  and  we  cannot  therefore 
doubt,  that,  if  any  one  of  these  glori- 
ous beings  were  to  be  visible  amongst 
us,  and  to  assume  the  office  of  teacher, 
he  would  plead  with  such  passionate- 
ness  and  warmth,  and  throw  so  much 
of  heart  into  his  remonstrance,  as  would 
leave  no  room  for  a  suspicion  that  dif- 
ference in  nature  incapacitated  him  for 
deep  sympathy  with  those  to  whom  he 
spake.  But,  to  pass  over  other  and  ob- 
vious consequences  of  the  substitution 


412 


god's  way  in  the  sakcttiauy 


of  angels  for  men  as  preachers  of  Chris- 
tianity, it  is  easy  to  see,  that,  under 
such  an  arrangement,  we  should  have 
been  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  operations 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  You  find  St.  Paul, 
when  speaking  of  the  Gospel  as  in- 
trusted to  himself  and  his  fellow-labor- 
ers in  the  ministry,  saying  to  the  Co- 
rinthians, "  We  have  this  treasure  in 
earthen  vessels,  that  the  excellency  of 
the  power  may  be  of  God,  and  not  of 
us."  He  assigns  it,  you  see,  as  a  reason 
why  the  Gospel  was  committed  to  weak 
and  erring  men,  that  God  might  have 
all  the  glory  resulting  from  the  publi- 
cation. And  undoubtedly  the  process 
secures  this  result.  If  God  worked  by 
mighty  instruments,  such  as  angels,  if 


ments :  it  would  be  made  up  of  simple 
sentiments  and  brief  statements  :  in  the 
majority  of  instances,  a  few  syllables 
would  constitute  the  "  grain  of  mus- 
tard seed,"  to  which  Christ  himself 
likened  his  religion  at  the  outset.  We 
are  only  asserting  what  we  reckon  at- 
tested by  the  whole  tenor  of  ministe- 
rial experience,  when  we  say  that  ser- 
mons which  God  honors  to  the  conver- 
sion of  hearers,  are  generally  effective 
in  some  solitary  paragraph ;  and  that 
the  results  which  they  produce  may 
fairly  be  traced,  not  to  the  lengthened 
oration,  as  a  compact  and  well-adjust- 
ed engine,  but  to  one  of  its  assertions, 
or  its  remonstrances,  which  possibly, 
had  you  subjected  the  discourse  to  the 


the  engines  employed  were,  to  all  ap-    judgment  of  a  critic,  would  have  been 
pearance,  adequate  to  the  ends  to  be  \  left  out  as  injurious,  or  at  least  not  con 


effected;  the  honor  of  success  would 
at  least  be  divided,  and  the  ambassador 
might  be  thought  to  have  helped  for- 
ward, by  his  own  power,  the  designs 
of  him  by  whom  he  had  been  sent. 
But,  as  the  case  now  stands,  the  ser- 
vices of  the  sanctuary  all  go  to  the  de- 
monstrating the  supremacy  of  God,  be- 
cause, whilst  undoubtedly  instrumen- 
tal to  the  eftecting  vast  results,  they 
are  manifestly  insufficient  in  them- 
selves for  any  such  achievement. 

And  we  should  like  you  to  add  to 
his,  that,  not  only  does  God  employ 
men  in  preference  to  angels,  but  he 
commonly  acts  through  what  is  weak 
in  men,  and  not  through  what  is  strong. 
It  is  perhaps  a  single  sentence  in  a  ser- 
mon, a  text  which  is  quoted,  a  remark 
to  which  probably,  if  asked,  the  preach- 
er would  attach  less  importance  than 
to  any  other  part  of  his  discourse,  which 
makes  its  way  into  the  soul  of  an  un- 
converted hearer.  We  wish  that  there 
could  be  compiled  a  book  which  should 
register  the  sayings,  the  words,  which, 
failing  from  the  lips  of  preachers  in 
different  ages,  have  penetrated  that 
thick  coating  of  indifference  and  pre- 
judice which  lies  naturally  on  every 
man's  heart,  and  reached  the  soil  in 
which  vegetation  is  possible.  We  are 
quite  presuaded  that  you  would  not 
find  many  whole  sermons  in  such  a 
book,  not  many  long  pieces  of  elabo- 
rate reasoning,  not  many  argumenta- 
tive demonstrations  of  human  danger 
and  human  need.  The  volume  would 
be  a  volume,  we  believe,  of  little  frag- 


ducive,  to  the  general  effect.  And  we 
know  of  no  more  powerful  evidence  of 
a  fixed  determination  on  the  part  of 
God,  to  humble  man  by  allowing  him 
to  be  nothing  but  an  instrument  in  his 
hands,  than  is  derived  from  this  fact  of 
the  ineffectiveness  of  all  except  perhaps 
one  line  in  a  sermon.  God  will  often- 
times pass  by  it,  as  it  were,  and  set 
aside  an  array  of  argument  which  has 
been  constructed  with  great  care,  or  a 
stirring  appeal  intoAvhich  has  been  ga- 
thered every  motive  which  seems  cal- 
culated to  rouse  a  dormant  immortali- 
ty, and,  seizing  on  the  sentence  which 
the  speaker  thinks  the  weakest,  or  the 
paragraph  in  which  there  is  nothing  of 
rhetoric,  will  throw  it  into  the  soul  as 
the  germ  of  a  genuine  and  permanent 
piety.  And  all- this  goes  to  the  making 
good  what  we  are  anxious  to  prove, 
that  the  challenge  in  the  second  clause 
of  our  text  is  altogether  borne  out  by 
the  assertion  in  the  first.  There  is  no 
finer  proof  of  the  power  of  an  author, 
than  that  he  can  compass  great  de- 
signs by  inconsiderable  means.  If  the 
means  be  great,  we  expect  a  great  ef- 
fect, and,  when  we  find  it,  hardly  count 
it  an  evidence  of  the  greatness  of  the 
agent.  But  if  the  means  be  inconsid- 
erable, and  the  produced  effect  great, 
we  are  lost  in  admiration,  and  want 
terms  in  which  to  express  our  sense  of 
the  might  of  the  worker. 

Let  us  see  then  how  our  argument 
stands.  What  result  is  greater  than  that 
of  the  renewal  of  human  nature,  the 
transforming  into  a  new  creature  one 


god's    WAT    IN    THE   SANCTITART. 


413 


"  born  in  sin,  and  sliapen  in  iniquity  V 
Where,  in  all  ihe  compass  of  wonder- 
ful things,  is  a  more  wonderful  to  be 
found  than  the  change  effected  by  con- 
version, or  the  after  and  gradual  pre- 
paration of  man  for  immortality  1  The 
being  who  is  naturally  the  enemy  of 
God,  averse  from  holiness,  with  affec- 
tions that  fix  exclusively  on  earthly 
things,  is  cast,  as  it  were,  into  a  fresh 
mould,  and  comes  forth  devoted  to  the 
service  of  his  Maker,  desirous  of  con- 
formity to  the  image  of  Christ,  and 
prepared  to  act  on  the  conviction  that 
here  he  has  "no  abiding  city."  He 
perseveres  through  a  long  series  of 
trials  and  difficulties,  contending  with 
and  conquering  various  enemies,  ac- 
quiring in  greater  and  greater  measure 
the  several  graces  which  are  charac- 
teristic of  genuine  faith,  till  at  length, 
fully  "meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light,"  he  enters  "  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,"  and  presses 
through  it  to  glorj?-. 

Yes,  indeed,  it  is  avast  achievement. 
Let  us  compare  it  with  the  employed 
instrumentality :  this  will  surely  bear 
some  apparent  proportion  to  the  result. 
"  Thy  way,  0  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary." 
We  know  that  it  is  by  and  through 
tiertain  public  ordinances  of  religion 
that  thou  dost  generally  turn  men  to 
thyself,  and  afterwards  strengthen  them 
to  persevere  in  a  heavenward  course. 
Then  we  will  hasten  to  the  sanctuary, 
that  we  may  observe  the  agency  through 
which  is  effected  what  so  much  moves 
our  wonder.  Surely  we  shall  find  an 
angel  ministering  to  the  people,  the 
being  of  a  higher  sphere,  clothed  in 
surpassing  radiance,  and  discoursing 
with  more  than  mortal  power  on  the 
lofty  topics  of  God  and  his  dealings. 
Surely,  if  there  be  sacraments,  they 
will  be  manifestly  pregnant  with  ener- 
gy, stupendous  institutions,  of  which 
it  shall  be  impossible  to  partake  with- 
out feeling  them  the  vehicles  for  com- 
munications of  grace.  Surely,  in  some 
august  and  overpowering  mode,  by  a 
voice  from  the  firmament,  or  by  rich 
visions  of  immortality,  will  God  make 
himself  known  to  his  people,  employ- 
ing means  which  shall  evidently  be 
adapted  to  the  taking  captive  the  whole 
man,  and  persuading  or  forcing  the 
soul  into  an  attitude  of  awful  adora- 
tion.   Ah,    my  brethren,  how  widely 


different  is  what  is  actually  found  in 
the  sanctuary.  God  is  there  working 
by  sermons  and  sacraments.  But  the 
sermons  are  those  of  a  man  of  like 
passions  with  yourselves,  one  frail  and 
fallible,  who  has  perhaps  little  or  no 
power  of  enlightening  your  understand- 
ings, and  certainly  none  of  penetrating 
your  hearts.  There  is  moreover  no 
proportion  between  his  natural  abili- 
ties as  a  reasoner  or  a  speaker,  and  his 
success  as  an  ambassador  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, the  most  honored  is  often,  to  all 
appearance,  the  worst  equipped  ;  and 
even  where  the  man  has  strength,  it 
may  be  said  to  be  through  his  weak- 
ness that  the  chief  good  is  wrought. 
And  the  sacraments — assuredly  to  a 
carnal  eye  nothing  can  be  less  com- 
manding than  these.  There  is  an  initia- 
tory sacrament,  "  baptism  for  the  re- 
mission of  sinsj"  but  it  consists  in 
nothing  but  the  pronouncing  a  few 
words,  and  the  sprinkling  a  little  wa- 
ter. There  is  a  sacrament  through 
which  membership  with  Christ  is  con- 
tinued, and  grace  imparted  for  the  ma- 
ny duties  and  trials  of  the  christian  ; 
but  a  morsel  of  bread,  and  a  drop  of 
wine,  consecrated  by  the  priest,  and 
received  by  the  believer,  are  all  that  is 
visible  in  the  wondrous  transaction. 
Yes,  by  the  sermons,  not  of  a  glorious 
angel,  but  of  a  sinful  man  ;  by  sacra- 
ments, not  imprinted  with  signs  of  Di- 
vinity, but  so  simple  and  unostenta- 
tious, that  they  seem  to  have  no  spe- 
cial fitness  for  the  transmission  of  su- 
pernatural things ;  does  God  gather  out 
a  church  from  the  world,  and  then  train 
it  for  immortality.  And  in  this  he  is 
great:  verily,  "the  excellency  of  the 
pov/er"  is  of  him,  not  of  us.  "Thy 
way,  0  God,  is  in  the  sanctuary  j"  but, 
when  we  turn  to  the  sanctuary,"  and  ob- 
serve through  what  a  slight",  and  ap- 
parently incompetent,  instrumentality 
thou  dost  bring  round  results  which  fill 
us  with  amazement,  we  can  but  adore 
thee  in  thine  Almightiness  ;  we  can  but 
exclaim  with  a  voice  of  reverence  and 
rapture,  "  Who  is  so  great  a  God  as 
our  Godi" 

Now  we  think  that  in  the  successive 
illustrations  of  our  text,  which  have 
thus  been  advanced,  there  has  been 
much  to  suggest  practical  reflections 
of  no  common  worth.  Was  God's  way 
in  the  Jewish  temple  of  old]  Was  he 


414 


god's    way   in    THB    SANCTITARY. 


passing,  in  all  the  sacrifices  and  cere- 
monies of  the  temple,  to  the  comple- 
tion of  the  work  of  our  redemption! 
Then  let  us  not  fail  to  study  with  all 
diligence  the  law :  in  the  law  was  the 
germ,  or  bud  of  the  Gospel ;  and  it 
will  aid  us  much  in  understanding  the 
system,  when  fully  laid  open,  to  exam- 
ine it  attentively  whilst  being  gradual- 
ly unfolded.  Christianity,  after  all,  is 
but  Judaism  in  a  more  advanced  stage  ; 
and  it  must  therefore  be  our  wisdom 
to  trace  carefully  the  religion  in  its 
progress  towards  perfection,  if  we  hope 
to  comprehend  it  when  that  perfection 
was  reached.  It  is  true  that  typps  de- 
rive all  their  significance  from  Christ ; 
but  it  is  equally  true  that  they  reflect 
the  light  which  they  receive  from  the 
cross,  and  thus  illustrate  the  sacrifice 
by  which  themselves  are  explained. 

Is  it  again  true  that  God's  way  was 
"  in  the  sanctuary,"  in  the  holy  of  ho- 
lies, that  place  of  dread  secrecy  and 
sanctity  ]  Then,  as  we  have  already 
inferred,  let  us  be  satisfied  that  God's 
dealings  are  righteous,  however  in- 
comprehensible :  we  may  not  be  able 
to  explain  them ;  for  a  majestic  veil 
shrouds  the  place  in  which  he  works  ; 
but  we  may  be  confident  that  they  are 
ordered  in  holiness,  inasmuch  as  that 
place  is  of  unspotted  purity. 

And  lastly,  is  God's  way  still  "  in 
the  sanctuary  1"  Is  it  in  the  sanctuary, 
the  house  devoted  to  his  service,  that 
he  specially  reveals  himself,  and  com- 
municates supplies  of  his  grace  1  Shall 
we  not  then  learn  to  set  a  high  worth 
on  the  public  services  of  religion,  to 
enter  "  the  courts  of  the  Lord's  house  " 
in  humility,  yet  in  hope,  with  holy  fear, 
but  nevertheless  with  high  expectation, 
as  knowing  that  we  are  to  meet  our 
Creator,  but  to  meet  him  as  "  the  God 
of  all  grace  1"  O  for  something  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Psalmist,  "  a  day  in  thy 
courts  is  better  than  a  thousand." 
What  rapid  growth  would  there  be  in 
christian  virtues,  what  knowledge,  what 
peace,  what  joy,  what  assurance,  if  we 
had  a  practical  consciousness  that 
God's  way  "  is  in  the  sanctuary  ;"  and 
if  we  therefore  came  up  to  the  sanctu- 
ary on  purpose  to  see  him,  and  to  be 
cheered  by  his  presence.  You  find  it 
said  of  Hezekiah,  that,  when  he  had 
received  a  threatening  and  insulting 
message  from  the  king  of  Assyria,  he 


went  straightway  into  the  house  of  the 
Lord.  He  might  have  sought  guidance 
and  comfort  in  his  own  chamber:  but 
he  well  knew  where  God  was  most 
sure  to  be  found,  and  therefore  did  he 
hasten  at  once  to  the  temple.  My 
brethren,  let  me  again  say  that  we 
magnify,  not  ourselves,  but  our  office. 
God  is  my  witness  that  I  have  no 
thought,  that,  by  any  wisdom  of  my 
own,  by  skill  as  a  reasoner,  by  force  as 
a  speaker,  or  by  persuasiveness  as  a 
pleader,  I  may  be  able  to  instruct  you, 
to  animate,  or  to  comfort.  We  will  not 
dispute,  for  a  moment,  that  you  may 
read  better  sermons  at  home  than  you 
can  hear  in  the  church.  But  the  differ- 
ence between  the  preached  and  the 
printed  sermon  lies  in  this,  that  preach- 
ing is  God's  ordinance  and  printing  is 
not.  It  pleases  God  to  save  men  "by 
the  foolishness  of  preaching  ;"  or,  more 
accurately,  "  by  the  foolishness  of  the 
proclamation."  And  therefore  is  it  that 
we  set  the  pulpit  against  the  press,  and 
declare  that  you  are  more  likely  to  be 
benefited  by  listening  to  the  simplest 
sermon,  delivered  in  great  weakness, 
than  by  studying  the  volumes  of  the 
most  able  divines.  When,  but  not  un- 
til, it  shall  cease  to  be  true  that  God's 
way  ''  is  in  the  sanctuary,"  you  may 
hope  to  find  those  assistances  and  com- 
forts in  more  private  means  of  grace, 
which  are  offered  you  through  public. 
We  scarcely  need  add  that  such  re- 
marks as  these  apply  to  sacraments  as 
well  as  to  sermons.  Yes,  ye  whom  I 
never  see  at  the  table  of  the  Lord, 
who  expect  to  be  nourished  though  ye 
continually  refuse  the  proffered  suste- 
nance, we  venture  to  tell  you  that  no- 
thing can  supply  to  you  the  want  of 
that  which  you  sinfully  neglect.  I  have 
visited  many,  very  many,  on  their  death- 
beds, persons  of  various  ranks  and  va- 
rious ages.  But  I  never  yet  found  an 
individual  happy  in  the  prospect  of  dis- 
solution, who  had  habitually  neglected 
the  Lord's  Supper.  How  should  he  be  1 
How  can  he  be  strong,  if  he  have  lived 
without  food^  I  know  that  God,  if  he 
please,  can  work  without  means:  but, 
when  he  has  instituted  means,  you  have 
no  right  to  expect  that  he  will.  He  is 
on  the  mountain  and  on  the  flood,  in 
the  forests,  and  amid  the  stars:  but 
his  way  "is  in  the  sanctuary;"  and  if 
therefore  you  would  know  him  as  a 


EQUITY    OF    THE    FtlTUKK    RETHIBtTTIO:f. 


415 


great  God,  great  to  pardon,   great  to    him  in  the  sanctuary,  or  not  wonder  if 
perfect  for  immortality,  you  must  seeit  ;  he  never  be  found. 


SERMON   XIII. 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTION. 

PREACHED  AT  CAMDEN   CHAPEL,  CAMBERWELL,  DECEMBER  11,  1836. 


Hs  that  ii  faitliful  in  that  which  is  least  is  faithful  also  in  much:   and  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  it 
unjust  also  in  much." — Luke,  IC  :  10. 


There  is  no  great  difficulty  in  tracing 
the  connection   between  these  words 
and  those  by  which  they  are  immedi-  j 
ately  preceded.   Our  Lord  had  just  de-  i 
livered  the  parable  of  the  unjust  stew-  | 
ard,  and  was  admonishing  his  disciples  j 
to  imitate  the  prudence,  though  not  the  I 
immorality,  of  that  unprincipled   cha-  \ 
racter.  "I  say  unto  you,  make  to  your-  ! 
selves  friends  of  the  mammon  of  un-  { 
righteousness,  that  when  ye  fail  they 
may  receive  you  into  everlasting  habi- 
tations."   Though  riches   cannot  pur- 
chase heaven  for  their  possessor,  they 
may  be   so  employed  as  to   give  evi- 
dence of  christian  faith  and  love,  and 
when  thus  used,  they  may  be  said  to 
provide  witnesses  who  will  testify  at 
the  last  to  the  righteousness  of  their 
owners.    The  suffering  and  the  desti- 
tute who  have  been  relieved  through 
the  wealth,  of  which  christian  princi- 
ple has  dictated  the  application,   may 
be  regarded  as  friends  who  will  appear 
in    support   of   their    benefactor,    and 
prove  his  right  to  admission  into  the 
mansions  prepared  for  those  who  have 
been  faithful  in  their  stewardship. 

But  this  statement  of  Christ  seemed 
applicable  to  none  but  the  rich.  "  Why," 
his  disciples  might  have  asked,  "ad- 
monish us  to  make  friends  of  the  mam- 
mon of  unrighteousness,  when  we  have 
nothing   of  this  world's    wealth,   and, 


therefore,  want  the  means  of  obeying 
the  injunction."  It  was  probably  to 
meet  this  feeling,  which  he  saw  rising 
in  their  minds,  that  Christ  went  on  to 
address  them  in  the  words  of  our  text, 
"Ye  judge  wrongly  (as  if  he  should 
say)  to  conclude  that  because  poor, 
and  not  rich,  you  cannot  do  that  which 
I  have  just  recommended.  '  He  that  is 
faithful  in  that  which  is  least  is  faith- 
ful also  in  much  ;'  "  so  that  the  right 
use  of  little  may  place  a  man  in  as  ad- 
vantageous a  position  as  the  right  use 
of  much.  The  question  is  not  what 
amount  of  talent  has  been  intrusted  to 
an  individual,  but  what  has  been  his 
employment  of  such  measure  as  he 
had ;  for  if  he  have  had  but  little,  and 
have  used  that  little  ill,  he  is  as  crimi- 
nal as  though  his  powers  had  been 
greater,  and  their  misuse  correspond- 
ent to  their  extent.  "He  that  is  unjust 
in  the  least  is  unjust  also  in  much." 

It  thus  appears  to  have  been  the  ob- 
ject of  our  Lord  to  inform  his  disci- 
ples that  their  povertj'  would  be  no  hin- 
derance  to  securing  to  themselves  the 
advantages  within  reach  of  the  rich  ; 
and  that  neither  would  it  furnish  them 
with  any  excuse  for  the  neglect  of 
those  duties  whose  performance  seem- 
ed facilitated  by  the  possession  of 
wealth.  He  makes  his  appeal  to  a  great 
principle — whether    in  the    nature    of 


415 


EQUITY     OF    THE    FUTURE    EETRinUTION. 


things  or  the  dealings  of  God — the  i 
principle  that,  if  a  nnan  be  faithful  up 
to  the  measure  of  his  ability,  or  unjust 
up  to  the  measure  of  his  ability,  when  j 
that  ability  has  been  small,  it  may  be  ! 
concluded  that  he  would  be  equally 
faithful  or  equally  unjust  were  his  abi-  j 
lity  greatly  multiplied,  and  that  there- 
fore he  may  be  dealt  with  in  both  ca- 
ses as  though  there  had  been  this  mul- 
tiplication, and  the  correspondent  in- 
crease, whether  in  fidelity  or  injustice. 
But  though  we  may  easily  trace  the 
bearing  of  Christ's  assertion  on  other 
parts  of  the  chapter,  as  I  have  already 
intimated,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that 
the  principle  he  announces  is  not  self- 
evident,  but  requires  to  be  illustrated 
before  it  can  be  received.  Whatever 
may  be  said  of  the  particular  case  of 
the  employment  of  wealth,  and  the 
equality  that  may  be  established  be- 
tween the  widow,  who  has  but  two 
mites  to  give,  and  the  man  of  vast 
means,  who  has  thousands  at  his  dis- 
posal, there  is  clearly  some  difficulty 
in  understanding,  as  a  general  truth, 
that  to  be  faithful  in  the  least  is  to  be 
faithful  in  much,  and  that  to  be  unjust 
in  the  least  is  to  be  unjust  also  in  much. 
At  all  events,  there  are  certain  limita- 
tions which  must  be  put  on  the  asser- 
tion, or  it  must  be  interpreted  with  re- 
ference to  the  temper  that  is  displayed, 
rather  than  to  the  action  which  may 
have  been  performed.  We  can  hardly 
question  that  some  men  who  are  faith- 
ful in  the  least,  would  not  also  be  faith- 
ful in  much.  The  honesty  which  is 
proof  against  temptation  whilst  disho- 
nesty would  procure  but  a  trifling  ad- 
vantage, might  probably  be  overcome 
if  great  gain  were  to  foUovv'j  and,  up- 
on the  other  hand,  there  might  be 
ynen,  who,  though  unjust  in  the  least, 
would  not  also  be  unjust  in  the  much  ; 
men  who  think  it  lawful  to  practice  the 
mean  trick,  or  the  contemptible  eva- 
sion, but  who  would  shun  the  being 
engaged  in  any  great  fraud. 

We  cannot  well  think  that  our  Lord 
designed  to  affirm  that  every  man  who 
proved  himself  faithful  in  little  matters 
would  be  as  sure  to  be  faithful  in  much  ; 
or  that  v/herever  there  is  dishonesty  in 
some  trifling  particular,  there  would  be 
as  certainly  dishonesty  if  greater  trust 
were  reposed.  This  would  be  practi- 
cally to  take  no  account  of  the  difler- 


ent  strength  of  diffisrent  temptations, 
or  the  various  motives  operating  un- 
der  diffisrent     circumstances.     But    it 
seems    evident   from    the  connection 
which  we  have  endeavored  to  trace  be- 
tween the  text  and  the  preceding  ver- 
ses, that  our  Lord  refers  to  the  esti- 
mate which  God  forms  of  human  ac- 
tions, an  estimate  which  is  made  upon 
the  dispositions  which  those    actions 
display,   rather  than  from  the  relative 
magnitude  of  the  actions  in  the  judg- 
ment of  men.    The  man  who  has  but 
little,  but  who  is  as  charitable  as  his 
means  will  allow,  is  placed  by  God  up- 
on the  same  footing  with  another  who 
has  made  an  equally  good  use  of  far 
larger  resources.    The  man  who,  with 
slender  abilities,  has  done  his  utmost 
in  the  cause  of  righteousness,  shall  be 
accounted  with  as  though  his  talents 
had  been  considerable,  and  his  employ- 
i  ment  of  them  had  been  wholly  in  the 
{  service  of  God.    And,  upon  the  other 
1  hand,  he  who  fails  to  improve  the  lit- 
!  tie  which  he  has,  shall  incur  the  same 
j  condemnation  as  though  the  little  had 
been  much.    This,  we  say,  appears  the 
scope  of  the  assertion  of  our  Lord.  He 
,  is   not    actually   to    be   understood   as 
!  affirming  that  wherever  there  was  faith- 
I  fulness  in  the  little,  there  would  assu- 
j  redly  be  in  the  much  ;  or  that  injustice 
I  in  the  lars^est  transactions  must  neces- 
j  sarily  follow  upon  injustice  in  the  least. 
j  There  are,  indeed,  senses  and  degrees 
I  in  which   even  this  assertion  may  be 
I  substantiated,  and  we   shall   probably 
[  find  occasion  to  refer  to  these  hereaf- 
'  ter;  but  we  think  it  evident,  from  the 
'  context,  that  our  Lord's  chief  design 
'  was  to  state  that  men  with  very  difl^er- 
'  ent   powers    and    opportunities    might 
occupy  precisely  the  same  position  in 
I  God's  sight,  and  that,  consequently,  it 
I  would  not  necessarily  be  any  disadvan- 
'  tage  to  the  poor  man  that  he  was  so  far 
behind  the  other  in  the  ability  to  do 
■  good.    The  verse  on  which  we  are  dis- 
'  coursing  must  be  classed  with  those 
[passages  which  affirm,  in  one  way  or 
another,  that  the  difl!crent  circumstan- 
I  ces  in  which  men  are  placed,  their  dif- 
I  ferent  capabilities   and   resources,    as 
members  of  society,  will  not  necessa- 
rily afl^ect  their  future  condition.  Those 
who  have  been  the  highest,  and  those 
who  have  been  the  lowest  upon  earth, 
may  ultimately  receive  preciselj'^  the 


EQUITY    OF    THK    FUTURE    RETRIBUTION. 


417 


same  recompense,  because  God  will 
judge  each  man  by  his  employment  of 
what  he  had,  without  reference  to  whe- 
ther it  were  little,  or  whether  it  were 
much.  It  will  be  our  business  to  en- 
deavor to  illustrate  the  text,  when  thus 
considered,  as  announcing  a  great 
principle  in  the  Divine  dealings  with 
our  race.  Of  course,  objections  may 
be  raised  to  the  equity  or  the  justice 
of  such  a  procedure  as  is  here  ascribed 
to  God,  and  these  we  must  labor  to 
remove. 

But  we  shall,  probably,  embrace 
whatever  is  necessary  for  the  explana- 
tion or  the  defence  of  the  principle 
now  brought  under  review,  if  we  en- 
deavor to  show  you,  in  the  first  place, 

THAT  THE  BEING  UNJUST  IN  THE  LITTLE 
FURNISHES  A  STRONG  GROUND  FOR  A  MAn's 
BEING    DEALT    WITH    AS    THOUGH     HE    HAD 

BEEN  UNJUST  IN  THE  MUCH ;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  that  mercy  does  no  vi- 
olence TO  EQUITY,  IF  FAITHFULNESS  IN 
THE  LEAST  BE  RECOMPENSED  IN  THE  SAME 
MANNER  AS  FAITHFULNESS  IN  THE  MUCH. 

Now  we  will  go  back  at  once  to  the 
first  entrance  of  evil,  and  examine  how 
the  principle  of  the  text  was  acted  up- 
on in  the  case  of  the  common  parents 
of  human  kind.  We  are  well  aware 
that  it  was  only,  to  all  appearance,  in 
a  very  slight  particular  that  Adam  was 
unfaithful,  and  we  are  equally  aware 
that  he  could  not  have  incurred  a  hea- 
vier condemnation  had  his  sin  been  in 
all  human  calculation  of  most  surpass- 
ing enormity.  And  it  is  a  question  of- 
ten put  whether  it  were  quite  what  we 
should  expect  from  such  a  Being  as 
God,  that  a  punishment  should  have 
been  inflicted  apparently  so  dispropor- 
tionate to  the  oflence,  and  that  for  a 
fault  which  seemed  so  slight  as  that  of 
merely  eating  the  forbidden  fruit,  there 
should  have  come  down  upon  our  fore- 
father a  vengeance  which  could  not 
have  been  increased,  whatever  had 
been  the  crime.  It  is  evident  that  the 
principle  here  acted  upon  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  text ;  and  that  Adam,  be- 
cause he  was  unjust  in  the  least,  was 
dealt  with  as  though  he  had  been  un- 
just in  the  much.  Was  this  at  all  at 
variance  with  the  known  attributes 
of  God  1  The  question  which  we  have 
thus  stated,  conveys  at  least  a  suspi- 
cion that  it  was;  but  that  suspicion 
must  disappear  upon  more  careful  ex 


amination.  We  readily  admit  that  it 
was  but  a  sliofht  trial  to  which  Adam 
was  exposed,  but  not  that  it  was  a 
slight  sin  which  Adam  committed. 
The  fact  that  the  trial  was  but  slight, 
is  utterly  inconsistent  with  the  suppo- 
sition that  the  sin  was  but  small :  for, 
it  is  evident,  that  the  slighter  the  trial, 
the  less  the  excuse  in  case  of  failure  ; 
and  that  the  less  the  excuse,  the  great- 
er the  guilt.  The  whole  question  to  be 
decided,  in  the  instance  of  Adam,  was 
whether  he  would,  or  would  not,  obey 
God  ;  and  it  was  only  giving  him  every 
possible  advantage  to  make  the  trial  of 
his  obedience  on  a  particular  apparent- 
ly the  most  inconsiderable.  If  the  trial 
had  been  made  on  some  far  greater 
particular,  we  should  certainly  have 
heard  of  the  strength  of  the  tempta- 
tion, and  the  very  objection  that  is  now 
urged  against  the  equity  of  the  sen- 
tence would  have  been  still  urged,  up- 
on the  principle  that  the  creature  had 
been  tasked  beyond  his  powers  of  re- 
sistance. So  that  nothing  can  be  more 
unfair  than  the  dwelling  on  what  is 
thought  the  smallness  of  Adam's  sin. 
It  is  worthy  of  nothing  but  the  most 
determined  scepticism,  to  talk  of  the 
insignificancy  of  eating  the  forbidden 
fruit,  as  though  it  had  been  for  the  ac- 
tion in  itself,  and  not  for  the  action,  as 
a  test  of  obedience,  that  our  common 
father  incurred  the  loss  of  God's  favor. 
The  action  in  itself  was  in  the  strictest 
sense  indifferent,  neither  morally  good, 
nor  morally  bad ;  but  the  moment  the 
action  was  made  the  test  of  obedience 
it  acquired  an  importance  which  could 
not  be  exceeded.  The  very  circum- 
stance of  its  being  in  itself  so  inconsi- 
derable, did  but  enhance  the  immea- 
surable criminality  of  its  being  com- 
mitted. If  we  allow  that,  up  to  the  in- 
stant of  prohibition,  Adam  might  have 
plucked  and  eaten  the  fruit  without  do- 
ing the  least  wrong,  this  interferes  not 
with  the  argument  that  the  instant  the 
prohibition  was  issued,  what  had  been 
before  indiflerent  became  incalculably- 
criminal.  Nay,  as  we  have  just  said,  it 
does  but  enhance  the  criminality  ;  for 
this,  only  goes  to  the  proving  that 
God  subjected  man  to  the  slightest 
possible  trial ;  and,  beyond  all  ques- 
tion, what  proves  the  slightness  of  the 
trial,  proves  equally  the  greatness  of 
his  oruilt.  Therefore,  we  know  not  with 
53 


41S 


EQUITY    OF    THE    FUTURE    HETRIBUTION. 


what  show  of  fairness  it  can  be  object- 
ed, that  there  was  any  evident  dispro- 
portion between  the  first  offence  and 
the  punishment  which  it  provoked. 
Unless  you  can  show  that  it  would 
have  been  unjust  in  God  to  have  pun- 
ished any  action  of  disobedience  with 
death,  you  certainly  cannot  show,  that, 
in  regard  to  the  eating-  the  forbidden 
fruit,  there  was  not  as  thorough  a  dis- 
obedience in  this  case  as  there  could 
have  been  in  any,  perhaps,  less  excu- 
sable. So  that  it  is  only  sajnng  that  no 
case  can  be  imagined  which  might  be 
justly  punished,  to  say  that  the  incur- 
red vengeance  was  greater  than  Adam's 
sin  deserved.  Men  may  argue  then  that 
Adam  was  unjust  in  the  least,  but  this 
affects  not  the  equity  of  his  having 
been  dealt  with  as  though  he  had  been 
unjust  in  the  much.  He  had  been  made 
to  pass  through  the  gentlest  trust,  and 
exposed  to  the  smallest  possible  amount 
of  temptation,  and  nevertheless  he  fail- 
ed ;  he  was  found  wanting  upon  trial, 
and  was  speedily  overcome  by  tempta- 
tion. Does  not  this  undeniably  prove, 
that,  had  the  trial  been  greater  and  the 
temptation  stronger,  he  would  have 
been  equally  found  disobedient  to  his 
Godi  By  failing  in  the  least,  he  irre- 
sistibly showed  that  he  would  have 
failed  in  the  much  ;  and  thus  was  his 
eating  the  forbidden  fruit  irresistible 
evidence  that  there  would  have  been 
the  same  unfaithfulness  had  God  ap- 
pointed a  higher  test  of  his  criminali- 
ty. So  that  if  you  can  imagine  to  your- 
selves more  heinous  sins  which  Adam 
might  have  committed — if  you  will 
suppose  him  violating  commandments 
of  a  loftier  and  more  severe  kind  than 
that  which  he  actually  infringed,  you 
do  not  convict  him  of  any  delinquency 
of  which  he  may  not  be  convicted,  on 
the  evidence  of  what  you  think  his  in- 
considerable offence.  Unfallen  as  he 
then  was,  the  only  thing  to  be  tried 
was  his  obedience ;  and  to  disobey  in 
the  smallest  point  Avas  to  show  himself 
ready  to  set  his  own  will  on  all  points 
in  opposition  to  God's.  And,  therefore, 
we  think,  there  was  the  most  accurate 
proportion  between  what  Adam  did,  and 
what  Adam  suffered.  He  had  done  the 
worst  thing  which  could  be  done  in  his 
circumstances;  and  therefore  he  de- 
served the  worst  that  could  be  award- 
ed to  transgression.    Yea,  and  if  other 


orders  of  beings,  spectators  of  what 
occurred  in  this  new  province  of  crea- 
tion, had  wondered  that  results  so  dis- 
astrous should  follow  upon  what  ap- 
peared so  trifling  an  action,  and  to 
have  demanded  whether  it  consisted 
with  the  known  attributes  of  their 
Maker,  that  vengeance  so  tremendous 
should  overtake  the  doer,  it  would 
have  been  enough  to  have  reminded 
them  that,  situated  as  Adam  was,  the 
eating  of  the  fruit  was  to  wage  war 
with  God  ;  and  they  would  have  found 
all  their  surprise  removed,  by  observ- 
ing, that  more  heinous  crimes  were 
so  involved  in  what  seemed  the  less, 
that  it  was  truly  equitable  to  deal  with 
men  upon  the  principle,  that  "  he  that 
is  unjust  in  the  least  is  unjust  also  in 
much." 

And  we  have  no  right  to  limit  the 
application  of  the  principle.  From  the 
mode  in  which  it  is  announced  by  the 
Savior  we  must  conclude,  that  it  is 
generally  acted  upon  by  God  in  his 
dealings  with  men.  We  pass,  there- 
fore, from  Adam  to  ourselves,  and  we 
inquire  into  the  equity  of  being  dealt 
with,  if  unjust  in  the  least,  as  .though 
Ave  had  been  unjust  in  the  much.  We 
have  already  said,  that  men  would  not 
be  warranted  in  drawing  the  inference 
which  the  text  seems  to  draw;  that 
they  would  not,  that  is,  be  always  jus- 
tified in  concluding,  that  if  an  indivi- 
dual had  been  found  unfaithful  in  some 
trifling  particular,  he  would  necessari- 
ly be  so,  if  greater  trusts  should  be 
given  into  his  keeping.  Yet  the  admis- 
sion which  we  thus  make  requires  to 
be  guarded.  It  is  rather  because  many 
considerations  of  prudence  and  policy 
might  operate  to  the  keeping  a  man 
faithful  in  much,  than  because  we 
repose  any  confidence  in  his  hones- 
ty, that  we  would  trust  him,  after 
proving  him  unjust  in  the  least.  We 
have  so  far  a  belief  in  the  rigid  appli- 
cability of  the  test,  that  we  reckon  that 
he  who  can  be  unjust  in  the  matter  of 
a  penny  would  also  be  unjust  in  the 
largest  transactions,  if  there  were 
stronger  temptations  and  stronger  se- 
curity against  being  detected.  There 
is  an  end  at  once  to  all  our  confidence 
in  the  integrity  of  an  individual,  the 
moment  we  ascertain  that  he  has  know- 
ingly defrauded  us  of  a  solitary  far- 
thing, and  though  we  might  afterwards 


EQUITY   OF    THE    FTTTTTRE    RETRIBUTION. 


419 


trust  him  with  large  sums,  and  allow 
him  great  power  over  our  property, 
yet  would  it  not  be  from  any  persua- 
sion that  he  might  be  safely  depended 
on,  but  solely  from  a  feeling  that  the 
motives  to  honesty  were  stronger 
than  the  rrotives  to  dishonesty,  and 
that  it  was  so  much  for  the  man's  in- 
terest to  be  faithful  that  we  ran  no  risk 
in  employing  his  agency.  This  is  vir- 
tually the  true  account  of  the  greatest 
part  of  that  apparent  confidence,  which 
gives  so  fine  an  aspect  to  the  transac- 
tions of  a  mercantile  community.  You 
observe,  what  has  all  the  air  of  a  most 
imbounded  trust  in  human  integrity ; 
so  that  property  is  shipped  and  con- 
signed from  one  land  to  another,  w'ith- 
out  the  least  misorivinof  as  to  the  honor 
of  the  various  persons  through  whose 
hands  it  must  pass.  It  would  hardly 
be  possible,  if  wickedness  were  really 
purged  from  the  world,  so  that  the  man 
could  not  be  found  who  would  wilfully 
wrong  his  fellow-men,  it  would  hardly 
be  possible  to  give  to  our  commercial 
dealings  a  franker  and  more  cordial  ap- 
pearance— an  appearance  which  might 
more  persuade  an  observer  of  the  ge- 
neral prevalence  of  an  acknowledged 
trust-worthiness.  We  believe  there 
can  be  no  question,  that  all  this  is  to 
be  chiefly  referred  to  the  conscious- 
ness that  it  is  vastly  for  man's  interest 
that  they  should  deal  honestly  with  each 
other.  If  society  could  be  brought  into 
such  a  condition  that  the  temptations 
to  dishonesty  should  be  far  stronger 
than  the  inducements  to  honesty,  or 
that  the  risk  and  consequence  of  being 
detected  in  fraudulent  dealings  had  be- 
come wholly  inconsiderable,  in  place 
of  being  what  they  are,  too  great  to  be 
encountered,  except  by  the  most  dar- 
ing— why,  we  should  soon  find  almost 
universal  suspicion  succeeding  to  the 
present  universal  confidence,  and  men 
now  content  with  insuring  against  ship- 
wreck, would  be  more  in  fear  of  one 
another  than  of  the  rock  or  the  tem- 
pest. So  that  it  is  not; through  the 
known  prevalence  of  integrity  that 
merchants  feel  so  safe  in  making  their 
various  distant  consignments  ;  still  less 
is  it  through  any  idea  that  injustice  in 
the  least  is  no  argument  for  injustice  in 
the  much,  that  the  man  who  will  drive 
a  hard  bargain,  or  over-reach  a  cus- 
tomer, or  practice  some  deception  of 


which  the  law  takes  no  notice,  is  yet 
intrusted  by  others  with  large  frac- 
tions of  their  property.  Much  of  the 
virtue  which  is  in  the  world  is  due  to 
nothing  but  the  not  being  tempted ; 
and,  perhaps,  yet  more  of  the  honesty 
is  owing  to  the  strictness  of  the  laws 
rather  than  of  principles.  Though,  as 
we  have  said,  we  do  not  always  in 
practice  conclude  that  he  that  is  un 
just  in  the  least  would  be  unjust  also  in 
the  much,  we  certainly  have  no  farther 
confidence  in  him  than  we  derive  from 
the  statute-book  of  the  land.  If  we  feel 
sure  that  he  will  not  commit  a  great 
!  fraud,  it  is  only  because  we  believe 
'  the  dread  of  legal  process  will  fill  ef- 
fectually the  place  of  a  fine  and  ever- 
active  conscience.  So  that  it  is  after  all 
1  a  great  recognition  among  ourselves 
of  the  principle  that  he  that  is  unjust 
in  the  least  is  unjust  also  in  much.  It 
is  not  a  recognition  which  is  evidenced 
by  our  refusing  to  put  any  thing  in  the 
power  of  the  individual  whom  we  sus- 
pect or  have  convicted  of  the  contemp- 
tible trick,  or  the  dishonorable  evasion ; 
but  it  is  a  recognition  which  is  evi- 
denced by  the  reasons  by  which  we 
justify  to  ourselves  any  after  confi- 
dence in  the  man — reasons  which  are 
invariably  fetched  from  the  defences 
and  securities,  as  we  think  them — pro- 
vided for  us  by  the  laws  of  the  land, 
and  not  in  any  degree  from  that  moral 
rectitude  and  firmness,  which,  where- 
soever they  exist,  constitute  a  safe- 
guard which  cannot  be  equalled. 

And  to  go  yet  farther  than  this.  We 
never  feel  much  surprised  if  an  indi- 
vidual who  proved  himself  not   over 
scrupulous  in  little  things,  be  at  length 
detected  in  some  great  act  of  dishon- 
esty. The  tradesman,  of  whom  we  have 
reason  to  believe  that  he  would  use  a 
false   balance,  or  palm  off  an  inferior 
article  on  his  customers — why,  I  am 
never  unprepared  for  hearing,  that  he 
has  brought  himself  wdthin  the  reach 
of  the  law  by  some  flagrant  attempt  to 
enrich    himself   at  other    men's   cost. 
'  And  the  merchant,  of  whom  I  can  once 
'  ascertain  \,hat  he  has  soiled  his  hands 
i  with    dishonorable    profit,    outwitting 
j  other    men,   taking  undue   advantage, 
\  though  not  in  such  a  manner  as  to  ex- 
pose  himself  to  the   censures  of  the 
I  law — it  never  amazes  me  to  be  told 
j  that  he  has  utterly  lost  all  his  credit, 


420 


EQtJITY    OF    THE    FUTURE    EETKIBUTIO.T. 


and  that  he  has  been  guilty  of  frauds 
that  must  make  him  an  outcast.  If  I 
felt  any  surprise  it  would  only  be  that 
I  had  thought  him  too  shrewd  and  too 
politic  to  venture  so  far,  and  because  I 
had  calculated  on  his  prudence,  though 
not  on  his  principle.  I  am  so  ready  in 
practice  to  admit  that  injustice  in  the 
least  argues  that  there  will  be  injus- 
tice in  the  much,  that  I  hear  nothing 
more  than  I  myself  could  have  predict- 
ed, when  informed,  that  he  who  was  at 
one  time  merely  a  pilferer,  and  a  de- 
frauder  in  things  which  could  not  be 
noticed,  has  become,  as  his  trade  or 
his  expertness  increased,  a  thorough 
master  in  cheating,  and  made  himself 
infamous  by  the  boldness  and  extent 
of  his  frauds. 

It  is  farther  worth  your  observing 
how  accurately   the    assertion   of  the 
text  is  verified  and  substantiated  in  re- 
gard to  the  use  made  of  wealth.     This 
is  the  case  to  which  Christ  specially 
refers,  and  which  ought  not,  therefore, 
to  pass  without  some  share  of  remark. 
If  a  man  have  been  illiberal,  and  shown 
a  want  of  christian  charity  whilst  his 
income  was  small,  what  will  ordinarily 
be  the  effect  of  an  increase  in  his  in- 
come %   Why,  to  make  him  yet  more 
illiberal  and  uncharitable.    The  instan- 
ces of  this  are  very  curious,  but  quite 
frequent  enough   to  press  themselves 
upon  the  attention  of  any  ordinary  ob- 
server.   If  a  man  have  done  what  he 
could  with  small  means,  and  distribu- 
ted  of  the    little    to   those   yet   more 
straitened,    you    will    ordinarily    find 
that  with   the   increase  in   his   means 
there  will  be  an  increase  of  his  chari- 
ties.   So  that  proof  is  afforded  that  he 
that  is  faithful  in  the  least  is  faithful 
also  in  the  much.    But  exactly  the  re- 
verse takes  place  when  a  niggardly  and 
churlish  man  gains  an  accession  of  pro- 
perty ;    even    his    household    arrange- 
ments will  be  often  on  a  less,  rather 
than  on  a  more,  liberal  scale  than  before; 
and  if  he  be  parsimonious  in  his  fami- 
ly, we  may  well  expect  that  he  will  not 
be  more  openhanded  with  others.  And 
we  think  it  quite  to  be  accounted  for 
on  natural  principles,  why  an  increase 
in  his  income  should  thus  produce  an 
increase  in  penuriousness.    So  long  as 
his  income  is  little  more  than  adequate 
to  the  wants  of  his  family,  there  is  no 
power  of  accumulation  ;  the  little  that 


can  be  saved,  with  even  rigid  econo- 
my, is  scarcely  worth  laying  by,  and 
the  man  may,   perhaps,  therefore,  be 
ready  to  bestow  it  in  charity.    But  so 
soon  as  his  income  is  more  than  ade- 
quate to  his  wants,  the  power  of  accu- 
mulation is  possessed,  and  every  far- 
thing which  can  be  saved  may  go  to  in- 
crease the  store,  which  is  more  doted 
on  as  being  the  object  of  a  new  passion, 
or  the  produce  of  a  new  ability.  Thus 
what  now  remains  over  and  above  the 
necessary  expenditure  is  worthbeing  in- 
vested as  capital,  and  the  possessor  will 
grudge  the  least  gift  to  the  poor,  as  be- 
ing so  much  withdrawn  from  his  hoard. 
But  so  long  as  the  surplus  was  too  in- 
considerable to  be  converted  into  capi- 
tal, it  was  squandered  on  superfluities, 
or,  perhaps,  in  some  fit  of  generosity, 
bestowed   upon  the  necessitous.    And 
so  it  comes  to  pass,  that  where  there 
has  been  no  real  principle  of  charity, 
whilst    the    means   were    contracted, 
there  will  often  be  even  less  of  the  ap- 
pearance   when   those   means    are  en- 
larged ;  and  that  the  man  whose  pov- 
erty   has    been    made    an    excuse    for 
his  doing   nothing  for  the  destitute — 
though  if  he  had  really  loved  God  he 
would    have    found    opportunities    of 
showing  it — manifests  the  same  illib- 
erality  when  he  has  ample  power  in  his 
hands.    And  what  then  does  he  do  but 
irresistibly  prove  with  how  great  truth 
it  may  be  concluded  that  "  he  that  is 
unjust  in  the  least"   will  be  "  unjust 
also  in  much  V 

Now  we  have  made  this  statement 
as  to  the  degree  in  which  the  principle 
in  question  is  recognized,  even  among 
ourselves,  in  order  that  you  may  be 
better  prepared  for  its  thorough  intro- 
duction into  God's  dealings  with  our 
race.  If,  with  all  our  short-sightedness 
and  imperfection  of  judgment,  we  find 
cause  to  conclude  that,  where  there 
is  injustice  in  the  meanest  particular, 
there  will  be  equal  injustice  in  thq 
greatest,  provided  only  there  were  a 
concurrence  of  power  and  opportunity, 
we  cannot  marvel  that  God,  who  reads 
the  heart,  and  observes  all  its  undeve- 
loped tendencies,  should  visit  a  man 
unfaithful  in  the  least  with  the  same 
vengeance  as  another  unfaithful  in  the 
much.  An  inconsiderable  act  may  fur- 
nish as  good  evidence  of  the  disposi- 
tion as  the  most  monstrous.    He  who 


EQUITY    OF    THE    FUTURE    RETKIBUTIOIf. 


421 


has  but  small  powers  of  defrauding,  and 
defrauds   to   the   amount  of  a  penny, 
gives  as  thorough  a  demonstration  of  the 
want  of  all  principle,  as  another,  who, 
under  a  different  temptation,  forges  a 
name,   and   thereby  gains   a  thousand 
pounds.    And,  if  it  be  the  same  demon-  j 
stration  of  the  want  of  principle,  it  is 
quite  to  be  expected  that,  when  the  two  ; 
appear  at  the  tribunal  of  God,  they  will 
be  accounted  equally  unjust,  the  differ-  ' 
ence  in  the  act  being  altogether  owing 
to  the  difference  in  circumstances,  and 
not  a  jot  to  the  difference  in  the  staple 
of  character.    Yet  when  once  we  take 
it  as  a  maxim   in  the  Divine  dealings, 
that  he  that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  un- 
just also  in  much,  we  seem  furnished 
with   a   principle   of  judgment   which 
will  be  applicable  in  the  case  of  earth's 
remotest  families,  and  every  individual, 
whatsoever  his  condition. 

Let  us  for  a  moment  combine  the 
two  clauses  of  the  text,  and  there  can 
be  no  difficulty  in  understanding  how 
those  who  had  the  least  moral  advan- 
tages may  be  placed  hereafter  on  a 
footing  with  those  who  have  had  the 
greatest.  If  faithfulness  in  the  least 
furnish  a  sufficient  index  as  to  faith- 
fulness in  the  much,  and  injustice  in 
the  least,  as  injustice  in  the  much, 
then  will  there  be  as  accurate  tests  to 
which  to  bring  the  conduct  of  the  hea- 
then as  the  conduct  of  the  christian  ; 
that  of  those  who  have  enjoyed  but  few 
means  of  grace,  as  of  others  on  whom 
they  were  bestowed  in  profusion.  We 
are  of  course  certain  that  where  much 
has  been  given  more  will  be  required  ; 
and  we  cannot,  therefore,  suppose  that 
as  great  an  amount  of  condemnation 
will  be  incurred  by  those  who  have 
not  heard  the  Gospel,  as  by  those  who 
have  heard  it,  and  despised  it. 

Yet  the  principle  asserted  in  our  text 
appears  to  bring  the  two  much  nearer 
to  an  equality  than  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  place  them.  At  all  events, 
it  goes  the  length  of  asserting,  that  as 
good  ground  may  be  furnished  for  the 
condemnation  of  the  heathen,  by  his 
having  been  unjust  in  the  little,  as  for 
that  of  the  christian,  by  his  having  been 
unjust  in  the  much.  The  heathen  may 
say  at  last,  "  I  had  but  few  advanta- 
ges," but  the  reply  will  be,  that  his 
non-improvement  of  those  few  is  as 
conclusive  against  him  as  would  have 


been  his  non-improvement  of  the  ma- 
ny. He  had  the  relics  of  tradition  ;  the 
lingering  traces  of  patriarchal  religion, 
which  have  never  been  wholly  oblite- 
rated from  among  the  most  savage  and 
ignorant  of  human   kind.    He  had  the 
foot-prints  of  Deity  visible   in  all  the 
scenes  by  which  he  was  encompassed, 
and,  yet  more,  he  had  within  himself 
the  witness  of  conscience — that  moni- 
tor which  is  found  in  the  lowest  depths 
of  degradation,  and  which  never  ceases 
to  liftman  impassioned  voice  in  support 
of  the  truth,  that  there  is  a  righteous 
j  moral    Governor.     Though    man    may 
have  almost  debased  himself  to  a  level 
j  with  the  brute  by  superstition,  and  yet 
I  more  by  vice,  and  though  all  this  may 
be  but  little,  Avhen   compared   with  the 
abundant  privileges    which   belong  to 
those   on  whom  falls  the  rich  light  of 
revelation — nevertheless,  if  the  heathen 
have  been  unfaithful  in  this  little,  he 
will  have  no  right  to  complain  that  no- 
thing more  was  vouchsafed,  and  he  will 
not  be   able   to   assert  the  probability 
that,  if  unfaithful  in  the  least,  he  would 
have  been  faithful  in  the  much.    The 
probability  is  all  the  other  way  ;  for  it 
is  by  and  through  conscience  that,  un- 
der every  dispensation,   the   Spirit   of 
the  living  God  continues  its  strivings 
with  man  ;  and  if  conscience  plead  in 
vain,  then,  whatever  the  dispensation, 
evidence    is   given  that  its    means    of 
grace  will  not  be  effectual,  and  there- 
fore   might    the    inference    be    fairly 
drawn,  that  having  been  unjust  in  the 
least,  the  heathen  would    also  be  un- 
just in  the  much;    and,   so    far    from 
having  a  right  to  plead  in  extenuation 
of  his  wickedness  the  want  of  chris- 
tian advantages,  he  may  even  be  taxed 
with  the  neglect   of  those  advantages, 
inferred  from  his  neglect  of  what  were 
actually  bestowed.    In  like  manner  we 
deny  not  that  in  a  christian  community 
there  are  very  different  trusts  deposit- 
ed by  God  Avith  different  men.    Whilst 
one  has  the  benefit  of  religious  instruc- 
tion   from  his    very    infancy,  and  has 
been  endowed  with  large   talents,  and 
placed  in  a  sphere  where  he  might  act 
a   conspicuous    part    as  a    servant    of 
God,  another  has  been  cradled  in  igno- 
rance, and  apparentlj'-  debarred  by  his 
very  condition   from    acquiring  much 
of  Christianity    for    himself,    and    j-et 
more  from  imparting  it  to  others ;  and 


422 


EQUITY    OF    THE    PTTTTJRE    RETRIBUTION. 


we  do  not  suppose  of  these  men,  that, 
if  both  are  condemned,  they  will  be 
condemned  with  the  same  condemna- 
tion ;  but  we  do  suppose,  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  text,  that  the  man  who  has 
been  tried  only  in  a  little,  will  have  no 
right  to  complain  that  he  was  not  tried 
in  the  much ;  and  more,  we  should 
conclude,  that  it  might,  with  the  most 
thorough  justice,  be  inferred,  that,  hav- 
ing been  unfaithful  in  the  least,  he 
would  have  been  equally  unfaithful  in 
much.  It  will  be  owing-  to  nothing:  but 
the  exercise  of  Divine  goodness  that 
he  receives  not  the  very  same  punish- 
ment for  his  unfaithfulness  in  the  little, 
as  will  be  awarded  to  the  other  for  his 
vmfaithfulness  in  much,  seeing  that  he 
has  given  decisive  evidence  of  a  dispo- 
sition, which  would  have  made  him  un- 
faithful, whatever  the  amount  commit- 
ted to  his  keeping.  So  that  by  just  the 
same  argument — which  we  ourselves 
are  wont  to  maintain  when  we  reason 
from  dishonesty  in  a  trifle  to  a  funda- 
mental want  of  principle,  which  would 
produce,  under  any  other  circumstan- 
ces, dishonesty  of  the  most  daring 
kind — may  we  conclude  God  would 
deal  only  righteously,  if  he  treated  a 
man,  unlawful  in  the  least,  as  though 
he  had  been  unlawful  in  much.  Yea, 
we  can  pass  from  our  own  decisions, 
and  our  own  inferences,  when  the  mat- 
ter in  question  is  simply  the  estimate 
which  may  be  formed  of  a  man,  suppo- 
sing him  intrusted  with  much,  from 
what  he  has  shown  himself  when  in- 
trusted with  little.  Apply  our  reason- 
ing to  the  case  of  the  final  judgment  of 
different  nations  and  different  condi- 
tions: and,  as  there  goes  up  to  the  tri- 
bunal the  pagan,  who  never  heard  the 
Gospel  of  Jesus,  he  is  followed  by  the 
christian,  to  whom  God  spake  in  these 
last  days  by  his  Son  ;  and  as  the  man 
of  large  talents,  of  unbounded  means, 
and  of  unlimited  privilege,  stands  side 
by  side  with  another,  unto  whom  has 
been  allotted  the  very  lowest  of  moral 
advantages,  and  the  very  lowest  oppor- 
tunities of  doing  God  service,  you  won- 
der how  men  so  difl^erently  circumstan- 
ced, can  be  equitably  brought  to  the 
same  trial.  Why  we  feel  that  we  an- 
nounce to  you  a  principle,  on  which 
the  judgment  may  justly  proceed,  what- 
ever the  diversities  of  character  and  of 
condition,  when   we    simply  quote  to 


you  the  latter  clause  of  the  text — "  He 
that  is  unjust  in  the  least  is  unjust  also 
in  much." 

Now  you  will  hardly  fail  to  perceive 
that,  throughout  all  this  labored  illus- 
tration of  principle,  we  have  not  ven- 
tured to  affirm  that  unfaithfulness  in  the 
least  will  be  as  severely  visited  as  un- 
faithfulness in  much  ;  but  only  that  the 
one  furnishes  as  good  evidence  of  cha- 
racter as  the  other,  so  that  deficiency 
of  means  will  be  no  excuse  for  defi- 
ciency in  improvement.  We  have  not 
ventured  to  go  further  than  this,  be- 
cause we  know,  that  it  is  to  be  more  to- 
lerable for  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  in  the 
day  of  judgment  than  for  Chorazin  and 
Bethsaida — for  those,  that  is,  who  have 
been  unjust  in  the  least,  than  for  those 
who  have  been  unjust  in  much.  But 
this  is,  probably,  owing,  in  the  main, 
to  the  great  mercy  of  God,  though  there 
may  be  cases  in  which  he  distinctly 
knows,  and  will  act  on  the  knowledge, 
that  those  who  have  been  unfaithful  in 
the  least  would  have  repented  in  sack- 
cloth and  ashes,  had  they  been  favored 
with  much.  Unfaithfulness  in  little  is 
so  strong  in  evidence  in  general  that 
there  would  be  unfaithfulness  in  much, 
that  we  do  not  believe  that  it  would  be 
at  variance  with  justice,  that  if  he  who 
has  exhibited  the  one  were  dealt  with 
in  precisely  the  same  manner  as  if  he 
had  exhibited  the  other;  and,  if  not  at 
variance  with  justice,  we  ascribe  ex- 
clusively to  the  mercy  of  God,  that 
there  is  to  be  the  gentler  punishment, 
where  there  has  been  the  least  of 
privilege.  So  that  a  man  is  to  have,  as 
it  Avere,  the  benefit  of  the  supposition, 
that  he  might  have  been  faithful  in 
much,  though  he  has  been  unfaithful  in 
the  least. 

But  if  it  be  necessary  thus  to  limit 
the  application  of  the  second  clause  of 
the  text,  in  order  to  preserve  its  con- 
sistency with  other  portions  of  Scrip- 
ture, there  is,  in  each  instance,  no  re- 
spect to  the  person  ;  for  we  propose  to 
show  you,  in  the  last  place,  that  mercy 
does  no  violence  to  equity  if  faithfulness 
in  the  least  be  recompensed  in  the  same 
measure  as  faithfulness  in  the  much. 

Hitherto  we  have  engaged  you  with 
the  case  of  unfaithfulness  in  the  least ; 
and  our  object  has  been  to  show  you 
that  it  micht  justly  be  dealt  with  as 
though  it  had   been   unfaithfulness  in 


EQUITY  OF  THE  FUTURE  RETRIBUTIOW. 


423 


much,  however  God  in  His  mercy  may 
extend  to  it  a  less  severe  measure. 
But  we  now  come  to  the  case  of  faith- 
fulness in  the  least,  and  here  the  tes- 
timony of  the  Holy  Scriptures  is  in  fa- 
vor of  the  unrestricted  application  of 
the  text,  and  of  our  holding  and  affirm- 
ing that  God  will  allow  to  those  who 
had  but  little,  and  used  that  little  well, 
as  brilliant  a  portion  as  to  those  who, 
having  much,  were  alike  faithful  in  its 
use.  It  is  here  that  we  can  appeal  to 
such  passages  as  that  which  declares, 
that  '^he  that  receiveth  a  prophet  in 
the  name  of  a  prophet,  shall  receive  a 
prophet's  reward;"  an  undeniable  state- 
ment that  the  prophet's  reward  may  be 
gained  by  those  who  are  never  actually 
engaged  in  doing  the  prophet's  work; 
or  as  that  which  makes  the  poor  wi- 
dow's two  mites  outweigh,  in  God's 
sight,  the  costliest  oblations  of  the 
wealthy;  an  evident  intimation  that  it 
is  not  the  amount  given,  but  simply  the 
proportion  which  the  amount  bears  to 
the  ability,  which  is  considered  and 
noted  by  Him,  of  whom  poor  and  rich 
are  alike  stewards.  If  we  were  right  in 
arguing  that  unfaithfulness  in  the  least 
furnishes  as  correct  an  index  of  dispo- 
sition and  character  as  unfaithfulness 
in  much,  and  that,  therefore,  in  all  jus- 
tice, the  same  punishment  might  in 
both  cases  be  awarded,  we  may  safely 
argue,  conversely,  that  faithfulness  in 
the  least  is  as  good  evidence  of  charac- 
ter as  faithfulness  in  the  much,  so  that 
mercy  cannot  be  said  to  interfere  with 
equity,  if,  in  each  case,  the  same  eter- 
nal recompense  be  bestowed.  If  jus- 
tice, untempered  with  mercy,  might, 
in  the  one  instance,  inflict  the  same 
penalty,  it  must  be  justice  uncompro- 
mised  with  mercy,  which,  in  the  other, 
allots  the  same  reward.  And  we  know 
of  no  appointment  which  can  more 
tend  to  reconcile  us  to  the  inequali- 
ties of  human  condition,  than  that  thus 
announced  by  our  Savior  :  "  He  that  is 
faithful  in  that  which  is  least,  is  faith- 
ful also  in  much."  You  are  all  aware 
that  one  of  the  main  arguments  by 
which  natural  religion  substantiates 
the  truth  of  a  judgment  to  come,  is 
fetched  from  the  frequent  depression 
of  virtue,  and  the  triumph  of  wicked- 
ness; from  those  manifest  diversities 
and  incongruities  which  deform  the 
present  state,  and  which   seem  to  pro- 


claim that  there  must  yet  come  a  sea- 
son of  adjustment  and  of  retribution. 
And  it  is  a  reasoning  not  easily  in- 
validated, that  the  Righteous  Moral 
Governor  must  have  designed  our  re- 
appearance in  another  state  of  being, 
since  good  and  evil  are  here  unequally 
distributed,  and  with  so  little  regard, 
as  it  seems,  to  character,  that  the  gov- 
ernment of  God  would  contradict  His 
nature  if  it  terminated  with  the  pre- 
sent dispensation.  But  when  you  have 
ceased  to  wonder  at  the  inequalities  of 
human  condition,  because  persuaded 
that  Ave  are  as  yet  only  in  an  inter- 
locutory state,  there  are  questions 
which  may  press  on  us  of  singular  in- 
terest, with  regard  to  that  judgment, 
of  whose  certainty  they  are  witnesses. 
If,  for  example,  the  judgment  is  to  de- 
monstrate the  impartiality  of  God,  if 
its  allotments  are  to  make  it  evident 
that  He  has  dealt  with  all  men  without 
respect  of  persons,  it  is  difficult  to  un- 
derstand how  this  can  be  effected,  see- 
ing that  powers  and  opportunities  for 
preparation  have  been  so  various,  that 
one  man  appears  to  have  been  situated 
a  hundred  fold  more  advantageously 
than  another  for  escaping  the  punish- 
ment and  securing  the  reward.  Accord- 
ing to  the  representations  furnished  us 
by  the  Scriptures,  the  recompense  of 
the  future  is  proportioned  to  what  men 
have  done  for  God  whilst  on  earth. 
But  some  have  been  so  much  better 
circumstanced  than  others  for  doing 
God  service,  that  it  seems  as  though  it 
were  impossible  that  thorough  imparti- 
ality should  at  last  be  demonstrated. 
If  we  take  the  singular  but  majestic 
sketch  of  the  judgment  drawn  by  Christ 
himself,  shortly  before  his  crucifixion, 
we  find  that  the  acquittal  or  the  con- 
demnation is  made  to  turn  merely  up- 
on the  having  been  beneficent,  upon 
having  fed  the  hungry,  clothed  the  na- 
ked, and  visited  the  sick.  But  this  is 
like  putting  the  acquittal  vvithin  the 
reach  of  none  but  the  rich,  none  at 
least  but  those  who  have  more  than 
sufficient  for  themselves,  an  overplus 
with  which  to  be  charitable.  What  is 
the  poor  man  to  do.1  the  individual 
who  is  forced  to  appeal  to  the  bounty 
of  others,  and  is  Mholly  without  the 
power  of  being  a  benefactor  himself] 
Is  his  poverty  to  incapacitate  him  for 
passing  the  last  trial  1    Is  the  wealth  of 


424 


EQUITY   OF   TIIK   FUTURE    RETRIBUTION. 


another  man  to  give  so  mighty  a  supe- 
riority that  hereafter,  as  well  as  here, 
riches  will  secure  him  the  ascendancy  ] 
Indeed  this  were  so  to  perpetuate  into 
futurity  the  distinctions  of  the  present, 
that  the  last  judgment,  in  place  of  adjust- 
ing the  discrepancies  which  now  throw 
suspicion  on  the  moral  government  of 
God,  would  but  make  hopeless  the  solu- 
tion of  what  is  intricate  and  perplex- 
ed. Yet  is  it  not  certain  that  some  men, 
through  no  fault  of  their  own,  but  sim- 
ply through  the  Divine  arrangements, 
are  so  situated,  so  endowed,  that  they 
cannot  do  what  others  do  in  offices  of 
zeal  and  benevolence,  and  that,  there- 
fore, they  must  stand  lower  amongst 
the  candidates  for  eternity,  than  had 
their  station  on  earth  or  power  been 
different.  Oh,  not  so!  It  is  here  that 
the  principle  of  the  text  comes  beauti- 
fully into  operation,  "  He  that  is  faith- 
ful in  that  which  is  least,  is  faithful  also 
in  much."  We  concede,  of  course,  that 
one  man  can  do  far  more  than  another, 
if  there  be  a  great  difference  in  the 
means  of  usefulness  respectively  pos- 
sessed. But  it  does  not  follow,  what- 
ever their  means,  that  the  one  will  do 
more  than  the  other,  in  proportion  to 
his  ability ;  and  if  God  is  pleased  to 
take  his  estimate  from  the  proportion 
Avhich  what  is  done  bears  to  the  power 
of  doing,  there  is  an  end  at  once  to  all 
necessary  superiority  on  the  side  of 
those  who  have  the  pre-eminence  in 
wealth,  rank,  and  talent.  The  propor- 
tion may  be  as  great,  or  even  greater, 
in  the  instance  of  the  poor,  or  the  de- 
spised, or  the  illiterate  man,  than  in 
that  of  another  who  has  all  the  advan- 
tages in  which  the  first  is  deficient, 
and,  therefore,  may  the  greater  recom- 
pense be  gained  where,  on  all  human 
calculation,  there  was  the  least  power 
of  giving.  Will  you  tell  me  that  pover- 
ty, because  it  incapacitates  a  man  from 
being  a  giver,  must,  therefore,  incapa- 
citate him  for  all  those  acts  of  benevo- 
lence which  are  mentioned  by  Christ 
as  the  criterion  of  character]  We  deny  ' 
it  altogether.  We  contend  that  the 
poorest  may  be  charitable,  as  well  as  : 
the  richest.  What  though  he  have  not 
even  the  widow's  two  mites  to  bestow  1 
What  though  he  be  actually  dependant  ' 
upon  the  bounty  of  others  1  Neverthe- 
less he  may,  by  his  rigid  carefulness,  j 
and  in  taking  as  little  as  possible  from  ' 


the  charitable,  leave  as  much  as  possi- 
ble to  be  bestowed  on  his  companions 
in  misery,  and  thus  does  he  contribute 
to  their  relief  precisely  that  amount, 
which,  had  he  been  less  conscientious 
and  less  thrifty,  he  would  have  required 
for  himself.  This  is  just  the  extreme 
case,  the  case  of  the  actual  beggar; 
and  this  beggar  may  rob  other  beggars 
by  wringing  from  the  benevolent  more 
than  his  own  necessities  positively  de- 
mand, or  he  may  contribute  to  other 
beggars  by  accepting  from  the  bene- 
volent only  what  will  just  suffice  to 
keep  him  from  starvation.  He  is  "faith- 
ful in  the  least,"  if  he  draw  as  little  as 
possible  on  the  funds  of  benevolence  ; 
and  thus  his  faithfulness  in  the  least 
having  involved  a  much  harder  sacri- 
fice than  that  of  many  others  in  the 
much,  may  place  him  far  above  the 
stewards  who  have  had  to  administer, 
and  have  administered  well,  the  largest 
revenues  of  opulence.  There  can  be 
no  greater  mistake  than  the  imagining 
that  God  has  done  the  poor  man  such 
injustice  as  to  allow  the  rich  to  mono- 
polize the  power  of  being  charitable. 
I  do  not  know  the  man  so  poor  that  he 
may  not  give  to  others.  He  may  give 
by  taking  less  from  the  benevolent  than 
they  are  ready  to  bestow,  and  by  thus 
leaving  them  more  to  bestow  in  other 
quarters. 

And,  we  nothing  doubt,  that  many  a 
poor  man,  who  has  always  been  striv- 
ing to  scrape  together  as  much  as  was 
possible  from  the  charitable,  never  reck- 
oning that  he  had  enough,  if  more  were 
to  be  had — that  he  will  be  as  truly  con- 
victed at  the  judgment  of  having  de- 
frauded the  perishing,  and  wronged  the 
friendless,  as  the  wealthy  proprietor 
who  has  squandered  his  substance  on 
luxury,  and  closed  his  ear  to  the  cry 
of  the  destitute.  In  this  manner  it  is 
that,  in  the  case  of  many,  there  is  as 
much  scope  for  unfaithfulness  with 
small  means,  as  with  large;  and  that 
therefore,  the  poorest  may  place  him- 
self on  a  footing  with  the  richest,  when 
the  two  come  to  the  judgment,  as  stew- 
ards of  God's  gifts.  It  is  the  same  in 
every  other  case.  The  man  who  has 
but  the  smallest  opportunities  of  in- 
struction, may  improve  those  opportu- 
nities with  as  much  of  earnestness  and 
diligence  as  another  who  has  the  larg- 
est. There  will  be  a  great  difference  in 


EQUITY    OF    THE    FUTURE    RETRIBUTIOW. 


425 


the  knowledge  of  the  two,  but  none  in 
the  fuithfuhiess ;  and  a  gracious  God, 
who  judges  according  to  what  a  man 
hath,  and  not  according  to  what  he 
hath  not,  may  look  with  equal  favor  on 
both.  And  O,  we  do  think  this  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  of  the  arrangements 
in  the  dispensation  beneath  which  we 
live !  We  cannot  receive  from  God  so 
little  of  present  advantage  as  not  to 
have  enough  to  enable  us  to  attain  the 
very  noblest  of  the  future.  We  care 
not  how  different  may  be  the  condition 
of  those  whom  we  address — high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  learned  and  igno- 
rant, we  regard  them  all  as  candidates 
for  the  same  prizes,  all  as  having  it 
equally  in  their  power,  not  only  to  en- 
ter heaven,  but  to  reach  eminence  in 
that  kingdom.  The  distinctions  of  earth 
are  evanescent,  and  have  nothing  to 
correspond  with  them  in  that  state  of 
being.  Indeed,  those  who  have  had  pre- 
sent advantages,  will  have  more  to  an- 
swer for;  for  the  possession  of  those 
advantages  implies  accountableness, 
but  their  non-possession  entails  no  dis- 
ability in  regard  to  striving  for  the  re- 
wards of  eternity.  We  carry  onwards 
our  thoughts  to  the  last  dread  assize, 
when,  throned  in  clouds,  the  Judge  of 
quick  and  dead  shall  summon  all  to 
His  bar.  Ministers  and  people,  masters 
and  servants,  all  shall  stand  together — 
all  be  brought  to  a  strict  reckoning  for 
their  respective  talents  and  opportuni- 
ties; and,  if  all  are  accepted  through 
the  merits  of  Christ,  the  minister  will 
not  necessarily  be  placed  higher  than 
the  people,  though  his  occupation, 
whilst  on  earth,  was  holier,  and  more 
intimate  with  Deity;  neither  will  mas- 
ters and  servants  be  necessarily  sepa- 
rated because  they  moved  during  life 
in  widely  different  spheres,  each  in  his 
own  place  may  have  done  his  utmost 
for  God,  and  hereafter,  in  thorough 
consistency  with  His  every  attribute, 
may  God  assign  to  each  the  same  re- 
compense. In  this  way  it  is  that  Chris- 
tianity, though  vehemently  opposed  to 
all  those  levelling  theories  which  dis- 
affected men  industriously  broach, 
place  the  highest  and  the  lowest  on  a 
par  in  the  competition  for  eternitJ^ 
Christianity  is  the  best  upholder  of 
those  distinctions  in  society,  teaching 
that  there  is  no  more  direct  rebellion 
against  the  Creator  than  resistance  to 


any  constituted  authority,  or  the  en- 
deavor to  bring  round  that  boasted 
equality  in  which  all  shall  have  the 
same  rights,  or,  more  truly,  in  which 
none  shall  have  any.  But,  nevertheless, 
if  Christianity  make  it  sinful  to  repine 
against  servitude,  it  gives  dignity  to 
servitude,  which  would  show  the  re- 
pining unreasonable,  if  it  had  not  been 
made  sinful.  It  tells  every  servant  that, 
if  he  be  faithful  in  his  calling,  he  may 
rank  with  his  master  hereafter,  even 
though  the  employment  of  the  master 
have  been  exclusively  the  advancing 
of  Christ's  cause  on  earth.  O  it  should 
be  a  surprisingly  cheering  thing  to 
those  who  have  to  wear  away  life  in 
the  ineanest  occupation,  that,  as  im- 
mortal beings,  they  are  not  one  jot  dis- 
advantaged by  their  temporal  position, 
but  may  make  as  much  progress  in  the 
Christian  race  as  though  placed  on  the 
very  summit  in  Christian  office.  Ay, 
and  the  cottager,  who  never  is  heard 
of  beyond  his  own  petty  village,  and 
whose  only  business  in  life  is  with  the 
spade  and  the  plough;  and  the  artizan, 
Avho,  week  after  week,  must  pursue 
the  same  dull  routine,  turning  the  wheel 
or  throwing  the  shuttle  ;  and  the  ser- 
vant, whose  days  are  consumed  in 
the  drudgery  of  servitude — there  is 
not  one  of  these  \vho  need  look  with 
discontent  on  the  missionary,  before 
whom  idolatry  is  quailing,  or  the  phi- 
lanthropist, whose  charities  spread 
happiness  through  a  parish.  The  in- 
mates of  the  cottage,  or  the  manufac- 
tory, or  the  kitchen,  are  the  rivals  of 
the  missionary  and  the  philanthropist 
for  the  prizes  of  heaven;  and,  when 
the  throne  is  set,  and  the  books  are 
opened,  all  may  receive  the  same 
crown,  or  that  on  the  head  of  the  mean 
man  may  even  outshine  that  which  the 
distinguished  man  wears. 

0  that  God  might  grant  to  all  of  us 
so  to  use  the  present  world  as  not  to 
abuse  it ;  so  to  pass  through  things 
temporal  as^  that  we  finally. lose  not 
things  eternal;  and  if  we  have  much, 
whether  of  wealth,  or  of  talent,  or  of 
privilege,  that  we  may  labor  to  be  faith- 
ful, knowing  that  the  much  not  improv- 
ed must  entail  an  immensity  of  wretch- 
edness, and  that,  if  we  have  little,  we 
may  labor  equally  to  be  faithful,  know- 
ing that  a  little  well  improved  shall  as- 
sure an  immensity  of  happiness. 
54) 


SERMONS 


ON    CERTAIN   OF 


THE     LESS    PROMINENT 


FACTS  AND  REFERENCES  IN  SACRED  STORY, 


BY    HENRY    MELVILL,    B.D. 

MINISTER    OF    CAMDEN   ClUPEL,    CAMBERWELL,    AND   CHAPLAIN    TO    THE   TOWER    OF    LONDON ; 
FORMERLY   FELLOW  AND    TUTOR  OF    ST.    PLTER'S  COLLEGE,   CAMBRIDGE. 


NEW-YORK : 

STANFORD   &,  SWORDS,    139   BROADWAY. 

PHILADELPHIA : 

GEORGE    S.    APPLETON,    148   CHESNUT-STRELT. 

1844. 


1 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1843,  by  Stanfohi' 
&  SwoKDS,  in  the  Clerk's  Oliice  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


NEW-TOR  K: 
Printed  by  Daniel  Fanshaw> 


SERMON    I. 


THE    FAITH    OF    JOSEPH    ON    HIS    DEATH-BED. 


■'  By  faith  Joseph,  when  ho  died,  made  mention  of  the  departing  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  gave 
commandment  concerning  his  bones." — Hebrews,  11  :  22. 


We  have  often  occasion  to  point  out 
to  you  what  a  difference  there  is  in  the 
standards  by  which  God  and  men  judge 
the  relative  worth  or  importance  of 
things.  In  one  great  sense,  indeed, 
there  cannot  be  to  God  any  of  those 
distinctions  which  exist  to  ourselves  ; 
for,  wondrously  exalted  as  He  is,  things 
must  be  equal  in  his  sight,  which  differ 
in  ours  in  many  respects  and  degrees. 
It  is  undoubtedly  to  forget  the  im- 
measurable distance  of  the  Creator 
from  the  creature,  to  imagine  that  He 
who  sitteth  in  the  heavens,  swaying 
the  universal  sceptre,  regards  as  great, 
and  as  small,  just  what  are  reckoned 
such  in  our  feeble  computations.  There 
ought  to  be  nothing  clearer  than  this — 
if  our  great  and  our  small  were  great 
and  small  to  God,  God  would  be  little 
more  than  one  of  ourselves,  judging  by 
the  same  measures,  and  therefore  pos- 
sessing only  the  same  faculties. 

Yet,  though  the  distinctions  made  by 
God  must  not  be  thought  the  same  with 
those  made  by  man,  we  are  not  to  con- 
clude that  God  admits  no  differences 
where  differences  are  supposed  by  our- 
selves. We  are  evidently  in  error,  if 
we  think  that  what  is  great  to  us  must 
be  great  to  God,  and  that  what  is  small 
to  us  must  be  small  to  God:  but  it  is 
not  necessary,  in  order  to  the  avoiding 
this  error,  that  we  should  confound 
great  and  small,  or  compute  that  in 
God's  sight  they  must  be  actually  the 
same.  They  may  not  be  the  same  ; 
they  may  be  widely  separated :  and 
yet  none  of  them  may  be  great  to  God, 
none  of  them  small:  whilst,  moreover, 
the  Divine  estimate  may  be  the  reverse 
of  the  human,  great  and  small  chang- 


ing places,  so  far  as  difference  is  al- 
lowed between  the  two. 

It  is  this  latter  fact  on  which  we  now 
chiefly  wish  to  fix  your  attention.  Take, 
for  example,  our  sins.  We  deny  that 
there  can  be  such  a  thing  as  a  sin 
which  is  small  in  God's  sight ;  foras- 
much as  sin,  from  its  very  nature,  must 
be  of  infinite  guilt,  because  committed 
against  an  infinite  Being.  But  this  is 
not  saying  that  there  are  no  degrees 
in  sin,  as  though  God  regarded  all 
crimes  as  of  equal  enormity.  One  sin 
may  be  greater  than  another  in  the 
Divine  estimate,  as  well  as  in  the  hu- 
man ;  and  yet  God  may  account  no  sin 
small,  however  ready  we  may  be  to 
think  this  or  that  inconsiderable.  And 
what  we  are  disposed  to  reckon  tri- 
fling, may  be  precisely  that  to  which 
God  would  attach  the  greater  crimi- 
nality ;  so  that,  as  we  have  said,  great 
and  small  may  change  places,  and 
where  both  God  and  man  admit  a  dif- 
ference, you  may  have  to  reverse  the 
judgment  of  the  one  to  find  that  of  the 
other.  Sins  of  the  mind,  for  instance, 
are  ordinarily  thought  less  of  than  sins 
of  the  flesh  ;  pride  incurs  but  slight 
reproof,  whilst  sensuality  is  heavily  de- 
nounced. Yet  the  proud,  perhaps,  of- 
fers a  more  direct  insult  to  God,  and 
more  invades  his  prerogative,  than  the 
sensual ;  and  thus  his  offence  may  be 
the  more  hateful  of  the  two  in  the  sight 
of  the  Creator,  whilst  it  receives,  com- 
paratively, no  blame  from  the  creature. 
Accordingly,  there  is  nothing  of  which 
God  speaks  with  greater  loathing  than 
of  pride  :  the  proud  man  is  represented 
as  the  object  of  his  special  aversion. 
"  God  resisteth  the  proud."    So  that 


430 


THE    FAITH    OF    JOSEPH    ON   HIS    DEATH-BED. 


whilst  with  ourselves  he  puts  a  difler- 
ence  between  sins,  he  inverts  our  de- 
cision, and  assigns  the  greater  atro- 
ciousness  where  we  assign  the  less. 
Take,  again,  covetousness  and  drunk- 
enness :  these  sins  are  neither  thought 
by  men,  nor  represented  in  Scripture, 
as  of  equal  enormity.  But  which  do 
men  think  the  worse  ?  The  covetous 
man  escapes  with  scarce  a  censure  ;  the 
drunkard  is  the  object  of  scorn  and  re- 
probation. But  is  this  verdict  ratified 
by  the  Bible  1  Nay,  whilst  the  drunk- 
ard is  unreservedly  told  that  his  sin 
shall  exclude  him  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  the  covetous  man  is  identified 
with  the  idolater.  No  one  who  remem- 
bers what  idolatry  is,  and  how  God  de- 
nounces the  worshipper  of  images,  will 
hesitate  to  admit  that  such  a  represen- 
tation places  covetousness  at  the  very 
top  of  things  offensive  to  our  Maker. 
How  careful,  then,  ought  we  to  be  as 
to  what  standards  we  adopt,  when  we 
would  estimate  the  relative  guiltiness 
of  sins  !  If  we  must  distinguish  sin  from 
sin — though  it  were  perhaps  safer  to 
confine  ourselves  to  the  truth,  that  all 
sin  is  infinitely  heinous — let  us  take 
good  heed  that  we  always  go  for  our 
rule  to  the  Divine  word,  and  not  to  hu- 
man opinion. 

And  much  the  same  may  be  said  in 
regard  of  duties,  and  of  actions  which 
God  may  graciously  be  pleased  to  ap- 
prove. It  is  not  to  be  thought,  that  be- 
cause no  human  action  can  deserve  re- 
ward from  God,  all  actions  performed 
in  his  service  must  be  of  equal  account. 
With  virtues,  as  with  vices,  God  may 
acknowledge  great  differences :  He 
will  not  overlook,  as  too  small  for  no- 
tice, the  cup  of  cold  water  given  in  the 
name  of  a  disciple  ;  but  he  does  not 
necessarily  put  this  act  of  benevolence 
on  a  level  with  every  other  achieve- 
ment of  faith  and  of  love.  Yet  here  we 
have  the  same  remark  to  make  as  with 
reference  to  sins.  The  Divine  decision 
will,  in  many  cases,  be  wholly  differ- 
ent from  the  human  ;  whilst  actions  are 
classified  by  the  one  as  well  as  by  the 
other,  the  superiority  may  be  assigned 
in  a  contrary  order.  The  act  of  righ- 
teousness, which  we  should  select  as 
most  worthy  of  commendation,  and 
most  demonstrative  of  piety  of  heart, 
may  not  be  that  on  which  the  Almigh- 
ty would  fix,  when  signifying  his  ap- 


proval of  one  of  his  servants.  It  may 
rather  be,  that  some  sacrifice  which  the 
world  never  knew,  some  exertion  which 
was  limited  to  his  own  home,  and  per- 
haps even  his  own  heart,  has  been  the 
most  approved  thing  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord,  of  all  wrought  by  one  whose  time, 
and  substance,  and  strength,  have  been 
wholly  devoted  to  the  cause  of  religion. 
It  may  not  be  when,  like  Paul,  he  is 
fighting  "  with  beasts  at  Ephesus  ;"  nor 
when,  like  Stephen,  he  is  laying  down 
his  life  for  the  truth,  that  a  man  of  God 
does  what  specially  draws  on  him  the 
smile  of  his  Maker.  There  may  have 
been  quiet  and  unobserved  moments, 
moments  spent  in  solitude  and  prayer, 
in  which  he  has  fought  what  God  ac- 
counted a  harder  battle,  and  won  a  no- 
bler victory.  And  in  the  arrangements 
of  his  household,  in  meeting  some  do- 
mestic trial,  in  subduing  some  unruly 
passion,  he  may  virtually  have  display- 
ed a  stronger  trust,  and  a  simpler  pre- 
ference of  the  promises  of  the  Most 
High,  than  when  he  has  stood  forth  as 
the  champion  and  confessor,  amid  all 
the  excitement  of  a  public  scene,  and 
gained  for  himself  a  deathless  renown. 
"The  Lord  seeth  not  as  man  seeth:" 
and  mightily  should  it  console  those 
who  are  not  so  circumstanced  as  to 
have  great  opportunity  of  making  ef- 
forts and  sacrifices  on  behalf  of  Christ 
and  his  cause,  that  it  is  not  necessarily 
the  martyr  whose  self-surrender  is  most 
accepted  of  God,  nor  the  missionary 
whose  labors  and  endurances  are  most 
held  in  remembrance  ;  but  that  the  pri- 
vate christian,  in  his  struggles  with 
himself,  in  his  mortification  of  his  pas- 
sions, in  the  management  of  his  family, 
in  his  patience  under  daily  troubles,  in 
his  meek  longings  for  a  brighter  world, 
may  be  yet  dearer  to  his  Father  in 
heaven,  and  be  thought  to  have  shown 
more  of  faith,  than  many  a  man  who 
has  entered  boldly  the  desert  of  hea- 
thenism with  the  cross  in  his  hand,  or 
even  ascended  the  scaffold  to  seal  with 
his  blood  his  confession  of  Christ. 

Now  all  these  remarks  on  the  differ- 
ent standards  by  which  God  and  man 
judge  actions,  will  be  found  to  bear 
directly  on  the  words  of  our  text.  In 
this  11th  chapter  of  his  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  St.  Paul  collects  from  the 
histories  of  patriarchs,  and  other  wor- 
thies, instances  and    examples  of  the 


THE    FAITH    OF   JOSEPH    ON    HIS    DEATH-BED. 


431 


power  of  faith.  And  the  question,  in 
reference  to  our  foregoing  remarks,  is, 
whether  he  has  fixed  upon  those  which 
we  should  have  fixed  upon  ourselves. 
Inspired  as  the  Apostle  was,  so  that  he 
must  have  been  directed  to  facts  most 
worthy  of  commemoration,  we  may  not 
doubt  that  what  he  takes  to  show  the 
faith  of  any  one  of  the  patriarchs,  must 
be  at  least  as  strong  an  instance  as  his 
history  contains.  And  if  the  instance 
selected  by  the  Apostle  be  not  that 
which  we  should  have  selected  our- 
selves— if  there  be  any  other  which 
we  should  have  decidedly  preferred — 
it  is  evident  that  our  judgment  differs 
from  that  of  God ;  so  that  we  have  pre- 
cisely the  case  on  which  we  have  been 
speaking,  the  case  in  which  what  man 
would  account  best  is  not  so  accounted 
by  Him  who  readeth  the  heart.  But 
this,  we  suspect,  is  exactly  what  may 
be  alleged  in  regard  of  our  text.  We 
give  you  the  history  of  Joseph,  a  his- 
tory more  than  commonly  eventful, 
and  which  is  narrated  in  Scripture  with 
special  minuteness.  We  set  you  down 
to  the  examining  this  history,  in  order 
that  you  may  take  out  of  it  the  inci- 
dent, or  the  action,  which  shall  most 
clearly  demonstrate  that  Joseph  had 
faith  in  God,  and  that  this  faith  was  a 
principle  of  great  energy  and  strength. 
Do  you  think  that  you  would  make  the 
same  selection  as  St.  Paul  makes  in  our 
text  1  passing  over  all  the  trials  of  Jo- 
seph; all  the  afflictions  which  he  brave- 
ly and  meekly  endured  ;  his  confidence 
in  his  interpretation  of  Pharaoh's 
dreams,  though  on  the  truth  of  that  in- 
terpretation depended  his  credit,  and 
even  his  life  ;  his  eagerness  to  receive 
his  father  and  brethren  into  the  land, 
though  every  shepherd  was  "an  abom- 
ination unto  the  Egyptians,"  and  they 
were  but  likely  to  lower  him  in  the  ge- 
neral esteem — passing  over,  we  say, 
all  this,  and  having  literally  nothing  to 
commemorate  of  Joseph,  save  that, 
when  he  was  dying,  he  "  made  men- 
tion of  the  departing  of  the  children  of 
Israel,  and  gave  commandment  con- 
cerning his  bones."  Would  this,  we 
ask,  have  been  the  fact  on  which  an 
uninspired  writer  would  have  fastened, 
when  choosing  from  the  history  of  Jo- 
seph what  might  best  illustrate  the 
Patriarch's  faith  in  God  %  Hardly,  we 
think, — and  if  not,  then  you  have  a 


clear  exemplification  of  the  truth  on 
which  we  have  endeavored  to  insist, 
that  the  actions  which  seem  to  men 
most  conclusive,  as  evidences  of  righ- 
teousness of  character,  may  not,  after 
all,  be  those  to  which  God  would  at- 
tach most  worth  and  importance. 

It  is  one  thing,  however,  to  allow 
that  the  selected  proof  is  not  that  on 
which  we  ourselves  should  have  fixed, 
and  quite  another  to  conclude,  that, 
when  pointed  out,  we  cannot  see  its 
force.  We  may  believe  that  you  all 
concur  with  us  in  the  opinion,  that  had 
an  uninspired  writer  had  to  choose  the 
best  proof  of  faith  from  the  history  of 
Joseph,  he  would  not  have  chosen  that 
selected  by  St.  Paul.  But,  nevertheless, 
we  may  be  able  to  determine  that  the 
proof  is  a  strong  proof:  if  we  cannot 
show  it  to  be  the  strongest  which  the 
history  furnishes,  we  may  at  least  as- 
certain that  it  establishes  the  power  of 
the  principle  which  it  is  quoted  to  il- 
lustrate. This  then  it  is  which  we  must 
propose  as  our  object  through  the  re- 
mainder of  our  discourse.  We  have 
already  drawn  one  valuable  inference 
from  the  text,  in  that,  through  showing 
that  God  and  men  do  not  always  judge 
alike  in  regard  of  righteous  acts,  it 
teaches  us  that  the  obscure  individual, 
and  the  unnoticed  deed,  may  be  more 
approved  above  than  the  conspicuous 
leader,  and  the  dazzling  performance. 
But  we  have  now  to  examine  whether 
that  for  which  Joseph  stands  comme- 
morated by  St.  Paul,  did  not  strikingly 
demonstrate  his  faith.  We  put  out  of 
sight  the  surprising  and  varied  occur- 
rences of  the  patriarch's  life ;  and, 
standing  round  his  death-bed,  we  will 
simply  consider  whether  he  did  not 
display  extraordinary  faith,  as  we  hear 
him  make  "  mention  of  the  departing 
of  the  children  of  Israel,"  and  give 
"  commandment  concerning  his  bones." 

Now  who  amongst  you  is  unaware 
of  the  power  which  prosperity  has  of 
attaching  men  to  earth  1  of  the  unwil- 
lingness felt  by  those  who  have  every 
gratification  within  reach,  to  submit  to 
any  change,  or  even  to  contemplate  its 
possibility  1  It  is  not  necessary,  in  or- 
der to  this  consciousness,  that  you 
should  yourselves  abound  in  what  the 
world  has  to  offer,  for  then  there  would 
be  comparatively  few  to  whose  feelings 
we  might  venture  to  appeal.    But  you 


4.32 


THE    FAITH    OF    JOSEPH    ON    HIS    DEATH-BED. 


are  all  judges  as  to  the  tendencies  of 
our  nature,  when  acted  on  by  certain 
causes  and  circumstances;  and  you 
may  all  therefore  decide,  from  what 
you  have  experienced  in  yourselves, 
whether,  in  proportion  as  temporal  ad- 
vantages accumulate,  man  is  not  dis- 
posed to  settle  himself  below,  and  to 
prefer  the  present  to  the  future.  If  I 
were  looking  out  for  strong  proof  of 
the  power  of  faith,  of  faith  as  dictating 
that  eternal  and  invisible  things  be  pre- 
ferred to  temporal  and  visible,  I  cer- 
tainly should  not  go  to  the  hovel,  whose 
wretched  inmate  has  scarce  sufficient 
for  subsistence  5  I  should  rather  turn 
to  the  palace  where  gorgeousness 
reigns,  and  all  that  our  nature  can 
desire  is  lavishly  spread.  It  is  not  but 
that  the  inmate  of  the  hovel  has  a  wide 
field  for  the  exercise  of  faith,  a  far 
wider,  in  some  respects,  than  the  own- 
er of  the  palace  ;  but  in  the  particular 
respect  of  a  preference  of  the  future  to 
the  present,  of  a  readiness  to  give  up 
the  visible  on  the  strength  of  a  pro- 
mise of  God  which  refers  to  the  invi- 
sible, the  trial  of  faith  is  evidently 
with  the  man  of  abundance,  rather 
than  with  him  whose  whole  life  is  a 
series  of  struggles.  The  pauper  may 
be  said  to  have  nothing  to  leave  ;  there 
is  nothing  in  his  portion  which  can 
come,  even  in  appearance,  into  compe- 
tition with  what  is  promised  by  God  ; 
whereas  the  noble  has  to  separate 
from  all  that  is  most  attractive  in  this 
lower  creation,  and  to  exchange  a  felt 
good  for  an  unseen  and  untried.  And, 
therefore,  if  we  found  the  noble  quite 
indifferent  to  what  he  had  to  abandon, 
so  possessed  with  a  persuasion  of  the 
immeasurably  greater  worth  of  invisi- 
ble things,  that  he  was  all  eagerness  to 
enter  on  their  enjoyment,  we  should 
say  that  here  had  faith  won  one  of  the 
finest  of  its  triumphs,  and  that  perhaps 
no  where  could  its  display  be  more 
conspicuous  or  convincing. 

But  it  is  something  of  this  kind 
of  display  which  is  furnished  by  the 
death-bed  of  Joseph.  We  do  not  pre- 
cisely mean  to  speak  of  this  death-bed, 
as  though  it  presented  the  same  facts 
as  that  of  a  Christian,  who,  with  his 
eye  firmly  fixed  on  the  glories  of  hea- 
ven, is  almost  impatient  to  break  away 
from  the  possessions  of  earth.  .Toseph 
lived  when  there  were  yet  but  dim  no- 


tices of  a  world  beyond  the  grave,  and 
we  may  not  too  confidently  assume  his 
acquaintance  with  a  state  of  everlast- 
ing happiness.  But  there  was  every 
thing  to  make  Joseph  desire  the  set- 
tling his  children  and  brethren  perma- 
nently in  Egypt ;  so  that  he  had  some- 
what of  the  same  difficulty  to  overcome 
in  contemplating  their  removal,  as  the 
man  who  has  to  resign  great  present 
advantages,  that  he  may  enter  on  those 
promised  in  another  state  of  being. 
The  scene  indeed  soon  changed:  there 
arose  another  king  "who  knew  not  Jo- 
seph," and  oppression  weighed  down 
the  children  of  Israel.  Had  this  change 
occurred  before  Joseph  died,  there 
would  have  been  comparatively  no- 
thing striking  in  his  making  mention 
of  the  departure  of  his  posterity, 
and  showing  that  it  occupied  his  last 
thoughts  upon  earth.  It  would  then 
have  been  quite  natural  that  he  should 
have  desired  this. departure,  and  point- 
ed out,  with  his  dying  breath,  the  pro- 
mise which  ensured  it,  as  the  most  pre- 
cious of  the  legacies  which  he  had  to 
bequeath. 

But  when  Joseph  died,  he  was  at 
the  very  summit  of  prosperity,  scarcely 
second  to  the  monarch  on  the  throne, 
with  a  vast  inheritance  of  honor  and 
wealth  to  transmit  to  his  children.  He 
had,  moreover,  established  his  brethren 
in  the  land ;  so  that  he,  who  had  been 
brought  into  Egypt  a  captive  and  an 
exile,  saw  himself  at  the  head  of  a  nu- 
merous tribe,  which  seemed  growing 
to  a  power  which  scarce  another  could 
rival.  I  know  what,  in  such  a  case, 
would  have  been  the  dictate  of  human 
policy  and  ambition.  I  know  what  the 
dying  man  would  have  said,  had  he 
known  nothing,  or  thought  nothing,  of 
the  declarations  of  God,  in  respect  of 
his  family.  He  would  have  advised 
that  the  colony  so  successfully  plant- 
ed, should  studiously  avoid  the  uproot- 
ing itself  from  so  congenial  a  soil,  and 
take  all  possible  pains  to  deepen  and 
strengthen  its  hold.  He  would  have 
contrasted  the  mean  estate  of  his  race, 
whilst  they  sojourned  in  Canaan,  with 
the  wealth  and  greatness  acquired  in 
Egypt,  and  have  argued,  from  the  com- 
parison, that  tiie  true  wisdom  would 
be  to  remain  where  they  were,  rather 
than  to  return  to  the  home  of  their 
fathers.     You  have  only   to  think   of 


THE    FAITH    OF    JOSEPH    ON    HIS    DEATH-BED. 


433 


Joseph  as  having  risen  from  the  lowest 
to  the  highest  condition  ;  as  the  found- 
er, to  all  appearance,  of  a  mighty  dyn- 
asty, of  a  family  possessed  of  almost 
regal  power  j  and  you  will  readily  ad- 
mit that  the  thoughts  most  likely  to 
have  occupied  his  mind  were  thoughts 
of  the  future  fortunes  of  his  house, 
fortunes  of  which  he  might  augur  well 
if  his  children  continued  in  Egypt,  but 
which  would  be  altogether  perilled  by 
their  quitting  that  country. 

And  had  there  not  been  a  higher 
•  principle  in  Joseph  than  that  of  world- 
ly policy  or  ambition ;  had  he  been 
merely  a  leader  who  sought  aggran- 
dizement and  distinction  for  himself 
and  his  posterity;  it  is  not  credible 
that  his  dying  words  would  have  been 
those  which  were  calculated  to  unset- 
tle his  tribe,  and  to  lead  their  thoughts 
from  the  land  where  they  were  most 
likely  to  be  great.  For  Joseph  might, 
at  the  least,  have  kept  silence  in  re- 
gard of  the  predicted  change  of  resi- 
dence; if,  v/ith  the  consciousness  that 
God  had  spoken  of  a  going  back  to 
Canaan,  he  could  not  have  distinctly 
advised  the  settling  in  Egypt,  yet 
whilst  there  seemed  so  mucii  to  re- 
commend the  remaining  where  they 
were,  he  might  have  abstained  from 
speaking  to  his  children  of  their  being 
removed. 

But  Joseph  was  something  more  than 
the  founder  of  a  powerful  line ;  and  the 
feelings  which  actuated  him  were  not 
those  of  policy  and  ambition.  Joseph 
was  a  man  Vv'ho  feared  the  Lord,  and. 
with  whom  the  vvord  of  the  J.Iost  High 
prevailed  against  all  dictates  of  carnal 
wisdom  or  desire.  It  was  nothing  to 
Joseph  that  he  had  wonderfully  attain- 
ed to  lordship  over  Egypt,  and  that 
now,  in  quitting  the  world,  he  seemed 
to  have  that  lordship  to  hand  down  to 
liis  children.  He  knew  that  God  had 
revealed  to  his  fathers  a  purpose  of 
giving  another  land  to  them  and  to 
their  seed;  and  that  it  was  not  in 
Egypt,  fair  and  fertile  though  it  was, 
that  he  designed  to  carry  on  the  mys- 
terious dispensation  which  should  is- 
sue in  the  redemption  of  the  world. 
And  therefore  were  Joseph's  thoughts 
on  Canaan  rather  than  on  Egj'^pt ;  on 
Canaan,  in  which  as  yet  his  family 
possessed  nothing  but  a  burial-place, 
rather  than  on  Egypt,  where  already 


they  were  masters  of  houses  and  lands. 
Oh,  my  brethren,  before  you  pronounce 
that  there  was  no  great  trial  or  dis- 
play of  faith,  in  Joseph's  making  men- 
tion, under  such  circumstances,  of  the 
departure  of  the  Israelites,  consider 
the  difficulty,  experienced  by  your- 
selves, in  preferring  what  is  future  to 
what  is  present,  in  giving  up  a  good,  of 
which  you  have  the  possession,  for  an- 
other of  which  you  have  only  the  pro- 
mise. For  it  was  this  which  Joseph 
had  to  do;  and  that,  moreover,  at  the 
least  in  as  great  a  degree  as  is  ever 
imposed  upon  us.  You  know  very  well 
that  you  find  it  hard  to  make  up  the 
mind  to  a  separation  from  objects, 
sought  perhaps  with  eagerness,  and 
obtained  with  difficulty;  though  you 
profess  to  believe,  that,  on  passing 
away  from  earthly  possessions,  you 
are  to  enter  upon  others  a  thousandlbld 
more  desirable.  And  you  would  per- 
haps find  it  yet  harder,  to  make  distinct 
arrangements  for  the  destruction  of 
the  fabric  which  your  whole  life  had 
been  occupied  in  perfecting,  and  which, 
after  long  trial  and  struggle,  seemed 
complete  in  every  part,  just  because 
there  was  a  saying,  referring  to  a  yet 
remote  time,  which  seemed  to  pledge 
God  to  the  building  up  that  fabric  iu 
some  remote  place. 

But  this  was  exactly  the  task  assign- 
ed to  Joseph  on  his  death-bed  ;  and  the 
more  you  suppose  that  the  patriarch 
had  but  little  knowledge  of  heaven  and 
its  joy^s,  the  more  surprising  do  you 
make  it,  that  he  should  have  endanger- 
ed, on  the  strength  of  the  Divine  word, 
the  temporal  prosperity  of  his  tribe. 
For,  where  eternal  sanctions  v/ere  but 
dimly  revealed,  temporal  considera- 
tions must  have  had  great  weight ;  and 
the  dying  leader,  who  could  hardly 
speak  of  afHictions  as  leading  to  glory, 
would  be  strongly  moved  to  the  hiding 
afflictions,  to  the  leaving  them,  at  least, 
to  be  found  out  by  experience.  Bat 
Joseph  was  too  much  penetrated  by 
confidence  in  the  declaration  of  God, 
to  allow  of  his  conferring  with  flesh 
and  blood,  or  being  deterred  by  proba- 
ble consequences.  It  is  a  fine,  a  noble 
scene,  which  is  brought  before  us  by 
the  simple  record  of  the  historian  ;  and 
I  call  upon  you  to  behold  it,  that  you 
may  learn  what  faith  can  do  against 
the  promptings  of  nature,  the  sugges- 
55 


434' 


THE    FAITH    07    JOSEFII    OIS    HIS    DEATH-BED. 


lions  of  suspicion,  and  the  dictates  of 
pride.  I  know  what  would  be  likely  to 
be  the  uppermost  feelings  in  that  expir- 
ino"  man,  who,  amid  all  the  insignia  of 
authority  and 'wealth,  is  bidding  fare- 
well to  brethren  and  children.  1  know 
■what  he  might  be  expected  to  do  and 
to  say.  His  wasted  features  mi'ght  be  lit 
up  with  a  smile  of  exultation,  as  he  sur- 
veyed the  tokens  of  almost  regal  state  ; 
and  he  might  say  to  those  around,  "  Be- 
hold the  glory  to  which  1  have  raised 
you,  and  which  I  bequeath  to  you  and 
your  posterity.  It  will  be  your  own  fault 
if  this  glory  decay:  the  best  of  all  Egypt 
is  yours,  if  you  do  not,  through  indo- 
lence or  love  of  change,  sulfer  that  it  be 
wrested  from  your  hold.  I  have  made, 
I  leave  you  great — great,  as  chieftains 
in  an  adopted  country,  forsake  not  that 
country,  and  your  greatness  may  be 
as  permanent  as  it  is  dazzling."  But 
nothing  of  this  kind  proceeds  from  the 
dying  man's  lips.  He  speaks  only  of 
the  abandonment  of  all  the  glory  and 
greatness ;  of  an  abandonment  which 
might  perhaps  not  be  distant ;  for  he 
gives  directions  as  to  his  burial  in  some 
unpossessed  land.  Interpret  or  para- 
phrase liis  last  words,  and  they  are  as 
though  he  had  said,  "  Children  and  bre- 
thren, be  not  deceived  by  your  present 
prosperity;  this  is  not  your  home;  it 
is  not  here,  notwithstanding  the  ap- 
pearances, that  God  wills  to  separate 
and  consecrate  you  to  himself.  Ye 
are  the  descendants  of  Abraham;  and 
Egypt,  with  its  idols,  is  no  resting- 
place  for  such.  Ye  must  be  ever  on 
the  alert,  expecting  the  signal  of  depar- 
ture from  a  land,  whose  treasures  and 
glories  are  but  likely  to  detain  you 
from  the  high  calling  designed  for  you 
by  God.  Settle  not  then  yourselves, 
but  be  ye  always  as  strangers;  stran- 
gers where  you  seem  firmly  establish- 
ed, and  where,  by  a  marvellous  concur- 
rence of  events,  you  have  risen  to 
dominion." 

Such,  we  say,  are  virtually  the  ut- 
terances of  the  expiring  patriarch.  And 
when  thou  think  that,  by  these  utter- 
ances, he  was  taking  the  most  eflectu- 
al  way  of  destroying  the  structure  so 
surprisingly  reared,  and  on  which  it 
were  incredible  that  he  did  not  himself 
gaze  with  amazement  and  delight ;  that 
he  was  detaching  those  whoili  he  loved 
from  ail  which,  on  human  calculation, 


was  most  fitted  to  uphold  them  in  glo- 
ry and  power — oh,  you  may  tell  me  of 
other  demonstrations  and  workings  of 
that  principle,  by  which  servants  of 
the  Lord  have  "subdued  kingdoms, 
wrought  righteousness,  obtained  pro- 
mises, stopped  the  mouths  of  lions;" 
but  I  can  see  that  nothing  short  of  this 
principle,  ay,  and  of  this  principle  in  a 
very  high  degree,  could  have  moved 
the  dying  man  to  such  words  as  he 
spoke ;  and  I  assent,  in  all  its  breadth, 
to  the  statement  of  St.  Paul,  that  it  was 
"by  faith"  that  "Joseph,  when  he  died, 
made  mention  of  the  departing  of  the 
children  of  Israel." 

But  we  have  not  yet  spoken  of  Jo- 
seph's giving  "  commandment  concern- 
ing his  bones  ;"  and  this  is  far  too  me- 
morable a  circumstance  to  be  passed 
over  without  special  comment.  We 
must  refer  to  the  Book  of  Genesis,  in 
order  to  see  what  the  commandment 
was.  There  you  read,  "And  Joseph 
took  an  oath  of  the  children  of  Israel, 
saying,  God  will  surely  visit  you,  and 
ye  shall  carry  up  my  bones  from  hence." 
The  oath  was  remembered  and  kept ; 
for  it  is  expressly  recorded,  in  the  ac- 
count of  the  departure  of  the  Israelites 
from  E^ypt,  "And  Moses  took  the 
bones  of  Joseph  with  him."  Neither 
were  these  bones  neglected  in  the  wil- 
derness:  they  must  have  been  religi- 
ously preserved  during  all  the  wander- 
ings of  the  people  ;  for  you  read  in  the 
Book  of  Joshua,  "And  the  bones  of 
Joseph,  Avhich  the  children  of  Israel 
brought  up  out  of  Egypt,  buried  they 
in  Shechem." 

It  appears  from  these  historical  no- 
tices, when  joined  with  the  reference 
made  by  St.  Paul  in  our  text,  that  great 
importance  is  attached  by  inspired  wri- 
ters to  the  fact  of  Joseph's  giving  com- 
mandment concerning  his  bones.  And 
the  fact  certainly  deserves  the  being 
carefully  pondered,  though  you  may- 
have  been  used  to  pass  it  over  with 
but  little  attention.  It  would  seem  that 
Joseph  was  never  buried  in  Egypt ;  for, 
after  mentioning  the  oatli  which  he 
took  of  his  brethren,  the  Book  of  Gene- 
sis concludes  with  saying,  "So  Joseph 
died,  being  an  hundred  and  ten  years 
old:  and  they  embalmed  him,  and  he 
was  put  in  a  coffin  in  Egypt."  "When 
you  connect  this  statement  with  his 
dying  injunction,  and   with   the  fact, 


THE    FAITH    OF    JOSEPH    OJI   1113    DEATH-BED. 


435 


that,  though  the  Israelites  were  thrust 
out  in  haste  from  the  land,  they  carried 
with  them  the  remains  of  the  patriarch, 
you  can  hardly  doubt  that  the  body  of 
Joseph,  when  embalmed,  was  kept  un- 
buried  amongst  his  people,  and  that  its 
being  so  kept  was  included  in  his  part- 
ing injunction.  And  this  is  the  more 
remarkable,  inasmuch  as  no  reason  can 
be  given  why  Joseph,  had  he  wished 
it,  might  not  at  once  have  been  buried 
in  Canaan.  When  one  reads  of  his  giv- 
ing "  commandment  concerning  his 
bones,"  the  obvious  feeling  is,  that, 
with  that  desire  which  seems  instinct- 
ive to  man,  the  desire  that  our  dust 
should  mingle  with  that  of  those  whom 
we  have  loved  and  lost,  Joseph  gave 
directions  for  his  being  laid  in  the  same 
grave  with  his  father  and  mother.  But, 
had  this  been  all,  why  was  not  his  body 
at  once  carried  into  Canaan  1  When 
Jacob  died,  '^  all  the  servants  of  Phara- 
oh, the  elders  of  his  house,  and  all  the 
elders  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  all  the 
house  of  Joseph,  and  his  brethren,  and 
his  father's  house,"  went  up,  and  in- 
terred him,  according  to  his  wish,  "in 
the  cave  of  the  field  of  Machpelah." 
So  vast  was  the  funeral  pomp,  that, 
''  when  the  inhabitants  of  the  land,  the 
Canaanites,  saw  the  mourning  in  the 
floor  of  Atad,  they  said,  This  is  a  griev- 
ous mourning  to  the  Egyptians:  where- 
fore the  name  of  it  was  called  Abel- 
mizraim,  which  is  beyond  Jordan." 
Surely,  if  such  were  the  interment  of 
Jacob,  that  of  Joseph  would  not  have 
been  less  honored:  had  he  comrhanded 
his  brethren,  as  he  had  been  command- 
ed by  his  father,  "In  my  grave  which 
I  have  diofared  for  me  in  the  land  of 
Canaan,  there  shalt  thou  bury  me," 
we  may  not  doubt  that  the  Egyptians 
would  not  only  have  permitted  the  fu- 
neral, but  have  graced  his  obsequies 
with  all  that  could  give  splendor  to 
death. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  it  was  not 
merely  interment  in  Canaan  which  Jo- 
■  seph  desired  :  it  was  expressly  his  wish, 
that  the  interment  should  be  deferred 
until  the  children  of  Israel  departed 
from  Egypt,  and  that  then  should  his 
bones  be  carried  up  to  the  land  which 
had  been  promised  to  Abraham.  In 
short,  the  "  commandment  concerning 
his  bones,"  which  St.  Paul  adduces  in 
proof  of  Joseph's  faith,  would  seem  to 


have  been  a  comftiandment  that  his 
bones  should  lie  unburied  whilst  the 
Israelites  were  in  Egypt,  and  be  buried 
when  they  took  possession  of  Canaan. 
But  what  was  there  in  this  which  spe- 
cially proved  faith  1  What  evidence 
does  the  commandment  which  Joseph 
gave  "  concerning  his  bones,"  add  to 
that  furnished  by  the  mention  which 
he  made  "  of  the  departing  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel  V  Here  is  a  point  wor- 
thy of  all  your  attention,  though  there 
will  be  no  great  difficulty  in  finding  a 
satisfactory  answer. 

Why,  think  ye,  did  Joseph  wish  to 
lie  unburied  in  the  midst  of  his  people, 
except  that  his  bones  might  perpetual- 
ly preach  to  them,  that  Egypt  was  not 
to  be  their  home,  h;ut  must  be  abandon- 
ed for  Canaan  1  The  very  lesson  which, 
with  his  dying  breath,  he  labored  to 
enforce — the  lesson,  that  they  were  to 
be  expecting  to  depart  from  the  coun- 
try which  had  received  and  sustained 
them,  this  lesson  he  longed  to  enforce 
after  death,  knowing,  as  he  did,  that 
his  brethren  and  children  would  be 
likely  to  forget  it.  But  how  shall  he 
accomplish  this]  What  means  are  in 
his  power  of  continuing  to  preach  a 
great  truth,  when  he  shall  have  been  ac- 
tually withdrawn  out  of  life  ?  Let  his 
bones  lie  unburied,  unburied  because 
they  wait  the  being  carried  up  to  Ca- 
naan, and  will  there  not  be  an  abiding 
memento  to  the  Israelites,  a  standing 
remembrancer,  that,  sooner  or  later, 
the  Lord  will  effect  their  removal,  and. 
transplant  them  to  the  land  which  He 
promised  to  their  fathers  1  It  is  in  this 
way  that  we  "interpret  the  command- 
ment of  Joseph.  You  have  heard  of 
the  preaching  of  a  spectre  :  the  spirit 
that  passed  before  the  face  of  Eliphaz, 
and  caused  the  hair  of  his  flesh  to  stand 
up,  came  from  the  invisible  world  to 
give  emphasis,  as  well  as  utterance,  to 
the  question,  "  Shall  mortal  man  be 
more  just  than  God]  shall  a  man  be 
more  just  than  his  Maker  1"  And  here 
you  have,  not  the  preaching  of  a  spec- 
tre, but  the  preaching  of  a  skeleton  : 
the  bones  of  Joseph  are  converted  into 
an  orator,  and  make  "  mention  of  the 
departing  of  the  children  of  Israel." 
The  patriarch  could  no  longer  warn 
and  command  his  brethren  and  de- 
scendants with  the  voice  of  a  living 
man  :  his  tonsrue  was  mute  in  death : 


436 


THE   FAITH    OP    JOSEPH    ON   HIS    DEATH-EED 


but  there  was  eloquence  in  his  sepul- 
chred limbs.  Wherefore  had  he  not 
been  gathered  to  his  fathers'!  what 
meant  this  strange  spectacle  in  the 
midst  of  a  people,  the  spectacle  of  a 
corpse  to  which  a  grave  seemed  deni- 
ed, and  which  was  kept,  as  though  by 
some  wild  mysterious  spell,  from  going 
down  with  others  to  the  chambers  of 
death"?  It  was  a  dead  thing,  which  ne- 
vertheless appeared  reluctant  to  die: 
it  seemed  to  haunt  the  earth  in  its 
lifelessness,  as  though  it  had  not  fin- 
ished the  office  for  which  it  had  been 
born,  as  though  it  had  yet  some  awful 
duty  to  perform,  ere  it  could  be  suffer- 
ed to  mingle  quietly  with  the  dust 
whence  it  sprung.  And  since  it  could 
not  fail  to  be  known  for  what  purpose 
the  body  of  one,  so  honored  and  rever- 
ed, lay  unburied  year  after  year — even 
for  that  of  being  removed  bj'-  the  Isra- 
elites, when  God  should  visit  them,  and 
transplant  them  from  Egypt, — did  not 
Joseph's  bones  perpetually  repeat  his 
dying  utterances!  and  could  anything 
better  have  been  devised  to  keep  up 
the  remembrance  of  what  his  last 
words  had  taught,  than  this  his  sub- 
sistence as  a  skeleton,  when  he  had 
long  ceased  to  be  numbered  with  the 
livingl 

There  can  hardly  then  be  two  opin- 
ions, that  the  bones  of  Joseph,  thus  re- 
served for  interment  in  Canaan,  became 
virtually  a  preacher  to  the  people  of 
the  very  truth  which  he  had  died  in 
the  effort  to  enforce.  But  what  addi- 
tional evidence  of  his  faith  was  there 
in  his  giving  "commandment  concern- 
in""  his  bones  1"  The  very  greatest.  It 
is  one  thing  to  preach  a  doctrine  dur- 
ing life:  it  is  another  to  be  eager  to 
preach  it  after  death.  See  ye  not  this! 
see  ye  not  that  the  faith,  which  might 
be  strong  enough  to  urge  to  the  advo- 
cacy of  an  opinion  now,  might  not  be 
strong  enough  to  urge  to  the  taking 
measures  for  its  advocacy  a  hundred 
years  hence  1  A  man  might  have  his 
misgivings:  he  might  say  to  himself, 
"  Perhaps,  when  I  am  dead,  something 
will  arise  to  prove  me  in  the  wrong ; 
why  then  should  I  strive  to  keep  the 
opinion  from  being  forgotten,  when 
events  will  have  transpired  to  show 
it  erroneous  1  If  the  opinion  be  true, 
others  will  arise  to  maintain  it ;  if  false, 
why  should  my  belief  in  it  be  made, 


tlirough  mine  own  act,  to  survive  its 
being  exploded  ?  Better  surely  for  me 
to  teach  v.'hat  I  think  true  whilst  I  live, 
but  not  to  stake  my  credit,  when  dead, 
on  propositions  which  time  may  dis- 
prove." 

We  are  thus  persuaded,  that,  if  you 
consider  attentively,  you  cannot  fail  to 
allow  it  a  strong  additional  evidence'of 
a  man's  belief  in  a  tenet,  Avhen,  over 
and  above  proclaiming  it  whilst  he 
lives,  he  labors  to  bring  about  that  he 
may  proclaim  it  when  dead.  I  would 
preach,  if  I  might,  after  death.  I  would 
not  be  silent,  if  I  knew  how  to  speak, 
when  the  grave  shall  have  received  me, 
and  another  shall  stand  to  minister  in 
my  place.  I  would  still  repeat  the 
truths  which  I  now  strive  habitually 
to  press  on  men's  attention.  But  why  ! 
Because  I  am  confident  of  their  being 
truths:  because  I  have  no  misgivings; 
because  I  have  not  even  the  shadow  of 
a  suspicion,  that,  happen  what  ma3\ 
Christianity  can  be  proved  false,  and 
the  Bible  a  fiction.  If  I  had,  I  should 
be  proportionally  reluctant  to  the 
preaching  after  death;  my  anxiety  to 
utter  truth  would  make  me  shrink  from 
the  possibility  of  being  found  hereafter 
giving  utterance  to  falsehood." 

And  to  show  this  more  clearly  by  a 
particular  instance,  which  shall  be  near- 
ly parallel  to  that  in  our  text.  There 
are  declarations  in  the  Bible,  that  the 
Lord,  whom  the  heavens  have  received, 
shall  come  forth  personally,  in  glory 
and  great  majesty,  and  revisit  this 
earth  to  claim  its  dominion.  There 
are  also  predictions  as  to  the  time  of 
this  splendid  manifestation,  though  not 
so  explicit  but  that  men  may  widely 
differ  as  to  when  it  shall  be.  Suppose 
that  by  the  study  of  unfulfilled  prophe- 
cy, I  satisfy  myself  as  to  the  date  of 
Christ's  coming,  fixing  it  to  seventy, 
or  eighty,  or  a  hundred  years  hence. 
Suppose  that,  so  long  as  I  live,  I  keep 
asserting  to  you  this  date,  you  will 
conclude  that  I  believe  it  myself.  Sup- 
pose that,  when  I  come  to  die,  I  gather 
you  around  me,  and  solemnly  declare 
that  at  the  said  time  the  Lord  will  re- 
appear, you  will  be  more  than  ever 
convinced  of  my  belief:  dying  men 
have  little  interest  in  deceiving;  and 
though  you  may  not  be  a  jot  the  more 
persuaded  that  my  opinion  is  true, 
there  will  be  scarcely  room  for  doubt 


THE    FAITH    OF    JOSEPH    ON    HIS    DEATH-BEl). 


437 


as  to  my  sincerity  in  liolding  it.  But 
suppose  something  more  :  suppose  that, 
as  1  die,  I  give  directions  for  the  erect- 
ing of  a  monument,  to  be  reared  in  the 
very  scene  of  my  labors,  and  inscribed 
with  the  very  date  on  which  I  had  so 
resolutely  fixed.  I  should  thus  be  tak- 
ing all  possible  pains  to  keep  my  opin- 
ion before  your  eyes,  and  those  of 
your  children  ;  to  keep  it,  when  things 
might  have  occurred  to  prove  it  false, 
when  it  might  be  nothing  but  a  regis- 
ter of  my  ignorance  and  mistake  :  and 
would  not  this  be  the  crowning,  the 
insurpassable  evidence  of  the  strength 
of  my  faith  ?  if  I  had  the  slightest 
suspicion,  or  fear,  that  the  event  might 
prove  me  wrong,  would  I  ever  take 
measures  for  identifying  my  name  with 
error  and  delusion  1 

And  this  just  illustrates  the  case  of 
Joseph's  giving  "commandment  con- 
cerning his  bones."  There  was  no 
proof,  in  his  giving  this  commandment, 
that  the  children  of  Israel  would  de- 
part out  of  Egypt,  even  as  there  would 
be  none  in  my  directions  for  a  monu- 
ment, that  the  Redeemer  would  appear 
at  the  specified  time.  But  there  was  a 
very  strong  proof,  that  Joseph  believ- 
ed that  the  Israelites  would  depart  out 
of  Egypt,  just  as  there  would  be  that  I 
believed  that  Christ  would  come  on  the 
day  which  I  had  named.  And  it  is  sim- 
ply in  illustration  of  the  power  of  Jo- 
seph's faith,  that  St.  Paul  quotes  his 
cfivinof  "  commandment  concerning  his 

too  ^  _  ~ 

bones."  The  illustration  is  therefore 
most  appropriate.  There  Vv^ere  long 
years — as  probably  Joseph  was  aware 
— years  of  wo  and  oppression,  to  pass 
over  Israel  ere  there  would  come  that 
visitation  of  the  Lord,  which  his  dying 
words  affirmed.  And  during  this  drea- 
ry period  it  would  seem  to  the  Isra- 
elites as  though  they  were  forgotten 
of  their  God,  as  though  his  promise 
had  come  utterly  to  an  end,  and  they 
were  doomed  to  remain  in  the  house 
of  bondage  for  ever.  What,  then,  more 
likely  than  that  whatever  reminded 
them  of  the  alleged  purpose  of  God 
would  be  treated  by  them  with  loath- 
ing and  scorn;  and  that,  whether  it 
were  the  dead  or  the  living  who  pre- 
dicted their  departure,  the  mention 
would  excite  only  hatred  and  derision  1 
Yet  Joseph  was  not  to  be  moved  by 
any  of  this  likelihood.    Why  not  1  Be- 


cause his  faith  was  too  strong  :  he  was 
too  confident  in  God's  word  to  allow 
of  his  taking  into  account  the  possibi- 
lity of  its  failure.     And  therefore  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  convert  his  bones 
into    a  perpetual   preacher,   or  monu- 
ment, of  that  word.  "I  shall  not  leave 
you,"  he  seems  to  say  to  his  weeping 
kinsmen.     "  I  die  ;  but  this  worn  body 
has  a  high  duty  to  accomplish,  ere  it 
may   enjoy    the    still    slumber   of  the 
grave.  I  leave  it  to  preach  to  you  that 
God  will  yet  bring  you  up  from  Egypt 
'  with  a  mighty  hand,  and  a  stretched 
out  arm.'    You,  or  your  children,  may 
be  disposed  to  insult  my  remains,  when 
oppression  shall  grow,  and  deliverance 
be  deferred.    But  I   know  how  all  this 
will  terminate.    Mine  eye,  over  which 
the  film  of  death  is  fast  gathering,  is 
on  a  mighty  procession,    the   proces- 
sion of  thousands,  and    tens  of  thou- 
sands,  marching    to    the     inheritance 
which  God  promised    unto  Abraham  ; 
and  in  the    midst    of    this    procession 
shall  these  bones  be  triumphantly  car- 
ried, their   ofiice    done,  to  share  with 
you   the   land   of  Canaan."    Oh !    who 
can  fail  to  see   that    Joseph  thus  fur- 
nished a  far  stronger  proof  of  trust  in 
God's  word  than  is  found  in  his  mere 
assertion  of  what  that  word  declared  1 
Who  can    deny   that   St.  Paul   added 
vastly  to  the  illustration  of  the  power 
of  faith,  when,  after  stating  that  "  by 
faith"  Joseph,  when  he  died,  "made 
mention  of  the    departing  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel,"  he  subjoined,  "and  gave 
commandment  concerning  his  bones  ]" 
But  we  ought  not  to  fail  to  observe, 
before  we  quit  the  death-bed  of  Joseph, 
that,  forasmuch  as  unquestionablj^  the 
Spirit  of  God  actuated  the  expiring  pa- 
triarch, and  perhaps  dictated  his  words, 
the  commandment  as  to  his  bones  may 
have  been  designed  to   intimate,  or  il- 
lustrate, the  truth  of  a  resurrection.  If 
■you  suppose,   as  you  reasonably  may, 
that  they  who   surrounded   the  dying 
man  considered  his  utterances  as  sug- 
gested by  God,   you   will   believe  that 
they   pondered   them   as  fraught  v.ith 
information,   conveying,   probably,  no- 
tices upon  points  which  had  been  but 
dimly,  if   at    all,  revealed.    We   need 
hardly  observe  to  you,  that,  so  far  as 
the  evidence  of  faith  is  concerned,  it 
would  be  most  conspicuous  and  con- 
vincing, on  the  supposition  that  Joseph 


438 


THE    FAITH    OF    JOSEPH    Olf    HIS    DEATH-BED. 


had  respect  to  the  resurrection  of  his 
body.  It  may  have  been  so.  Why  was 
he  unwilling  that  his  bones  should  rest 
in  Egj'pt  ?  Unwilling  he  evidently  was  ; 
for,  allowing  him  to  have  desired  their 
remaining  unburied  that  they  might  re- 
mind the  Israelites  of  their  predicted 
departure,  this  is  no  reason  why  he 
should  also  have  given  directions  for 
their  being  carried  into  Canaan.  By 
remaining  unburied  he  would  have 
shown  an  anxiety  to  preach  a  great 
fact  to  his  descendants ;  but,  by  fur- 
ther desiring  that,  when  this  office  was 
done,  he  might  be  buried  in  the  pro- 
mised land,  he  evinced  a  care  as  to 
his  place  of  sepulture,  or  showed  that 
it  Avas  not  indifferent  to  him  what  be- 
came of  his  body. 

Wherefore,  then,  we  again  ask,  was  he 
unwilling  to  be  buried  in  Egypt  1  What 
had  he  to  do  with  choosing  where  his 
bones  should  be  laid,  and  that,  too,  on 
a  far  distant  day"?  I  cannot  but  infer, 
from  this  anxiety  of  Joseph  in  regard 
to  his  grave,  that  he  did  not  consider 
the  body  as  a  thing  to  be  thrown  aside 
so  soon  as  the  vital  principle  were  ex- 
tinct. He  felt  that  his  dead  body  might 
live  to  admonish  his  countrymen;  but 
he  must  also  have  felt  that,  even  when 
that  office  were  done,  it  was  not  to  be 
treated  as  of  no  further  worth.  It  mat- 
ters not  whether  it  arise  from  a  kind 
of  natural  instinct,  or  from  the  imme- 
diate suggestion  of  the  Spirit  of  God — 
in  all  cases,  care  as  to  what  becomes 
of  the  body,  is  evidence  of  a  conscious- 
ness that  the  body  is  not  finally  to  pe- 
rish at  death.  He  who  shows  anxie- 
ty as  to  the  treatment  of  his  remains 
shows  something  of  a  belief,  whether 
he  confess  it  or  not,  that  these  remains 
are  reserved  for  other  purposes  and 
scenes.  I  can  hardly  think  that  Joseph 
believed  that  his  body  would  never  live 
again:  he  would  scarcely  have  pro- 
vided it  a  sepulchre  in  Canaan,  if  per- 
suaded that,  in  dying,  it  would  be  final- 
ly destroyed.  His  bones  might  as  well 
have  rested  in  Egypt,  amongst  those 
of  the  idolater  and  stranger,  had  they 
never  been  appointed,  or  had  he  not 
imagined  them  appointed,  to  the  being 
brought  up  from  the  dust  and  again 
sinewed  with  life.  But  on  the  supposi- 
tion of  a  belief,  or  even  the  faintest 
conjecture,  of  a  resurrection,  we  seem 
to  understand  why  the  dying  patriarch 


longed  to  sleep  in  the  promised  land. 
"  I  will  not  leave,"  he  seems  to  say, 
"  this  body  to  be  disregarded,  and 
trampled  on,  as  though  it  were  mere- 
ly that  of  an  animal  whose  existence 
wholly  terminates  at  death.  That  which 
God  takes  care  of,  reserving  it  for  an- 
other life,  it  becomes  not  man  to  de- 
spise, as  though  undeserving  a  thought. 
And  though  the  eye  of  the  Almighty 
would  be  on  my  dust  in  Egypt,  as  in 
Canaan,  yet  would  I  rather  rest  with 
the  righteous  than  with  the  wicked  in 
the  grave,  with  my  fathers  and  my 
kinsmen,  than  with  the  foreigner  and 
the  enemy.  If  I  am  to  start  from  long 
and  dark  slumber,  let  those  who  wake 
with  me  be  those  whom  I  have  loved, 
and  who  are  to  share  with  me  the  un- 
known existence." 

Such,  we  say,  is  an  interpretation 
which  might  fairly  be  put  on  Joseph's 
giving  "  commandment  concerning  his 
bones."  There  may  have  floated  before 
him  visions  of  the  grave  giving  up  its 
dead.  The  yearnings  of  his  parting  spi- 
rit after  Canaan  ;  the  longing  for  inter- 
ment by  the  side  of  Abraham,  Isaac, 
and  Jacob;  all  may  have  risen  from  an 
indistinct  thought  that  he  was  destin- 
ed to  live  again;  all  may  mark  that, 
though  life  and  immortality  were  not 
then  brought  to  light,  dim  and  spec- 
tral images  flitted  to  and  fro,  shadowy 
forms,  as  of  the  decayed  and  the  dead, 
mysteriously  reconstructed  and  reani- 
mated. And  if  they  who  stood  around 
Joseph  recognized,  as  they  must  have 
done  in  the  last  words  of  Jacob,  the 
dictates  of  the  Almighty  himself,  then 
may  we  say  that  the  "  commandment 
concerning  his  bones"  amounted  to  a 
Dirine  intimation  of  the  truth  of  a  re- 
surrection. Whatever  showed  that  God 
willed  that  the  dead  body  should  be 
cared  for,  that  he  would  not  have  it 
thrown  aside  as  utterly  done  with,  went 
also  to  the  showing  that  the  body  was 
still  to  be  of  use,  and  that,  therefore, 
its  resurrection  was  designed.  Hence, 
it  may  be  that  from  the  death-bed  of 
Joseph  sprang,  in  a  measure,  that  per- 
suasion of  a  resurrection,  which  gradu- 
ally wrought  itself  into  the  creed  of 
the  children  of  Israel.  His  "  command- 
ment concerning  his  bones,"  kept  so 
long  in  mind,  and  associated  Avith  a 
great,  crisis  in  the  national  history,  may 
have  produced  attertion,  not  only  to 


AIv'CELS   AS   REMEMBRAKCSRS. 


439 


the  departure  from  Egypt,  but  to  a  far 
mightier  departure — the  departure  of 
myriads  from  the  sepulchres  of  the 
earth,  after  long  enthralment  xmder  a 
sterner  than  Pharaoh.  I  feel  as  if  it 
were  to  attach  surprising  interest  to 
Joseph's  last  words,  to  suppose  that 
they  showed  his  own  thought,  and  gave 
notice  to  others,  of  the  resurrection  of 
the  body.  This  makes  his  death-bed 
that  almost  of  a  Christian.  It  is  not  a 
Christian  thing,  to  die  manifesting  in- 
difference as  to  what  is  done  with  the 
body.  That  body  is  redeemed :  not  a 
particle  of  its  dust  but  was  bought  with 
drops  of  Christ's  precious  blood.  That 
body  is  appointed  to  a  glorious  condi- 
tion :  not  a  particle  of  the  corruptible 
but  what  shall  put  on  incorruption ;  of 
the  mortal  that  shall  not  assume  im- 
mortality. The  Christian  knows  this  : 
it  is  not  the  part  of  a  Christian  to  seem 


unmindful  of  this.  lie  may,  therefore, 
as  he  departs,  speak  of  the  place  where 
he  would  wish  to  be  laid.  "Let  me 
sleep,"  he  may  say,  "  with  my  father 
and  my  mother,  with  my  wife  and  my 
children  :  lay  me  not  here,  in  this  dis- 
tant land,  where  my  dust  cannot  mingle 
with  its  kindred.  I  would  be  chimed 
to  my  grave  by  my  own  village  bell, 
and  have  my  requiem  sung  where  I  was 
baptized  into  Christ."  Marvel  ye  at 
such  last  words'?  Wonder  ye  that  one, 
whose  spirit  is  just  entering  the  sepa- 
rate state,  should  have  this  care  for 
the  body  which  he  is  about  to  leave  to 
the  worms'?  Nay,  he  is  a  believer  in 
Jesus  as  "  the  Eesurrection  and  the 
Life  :"  this  belief  prompts  his  dying 
words;  and  it  shall  have  to  be  said  of 
him,  as  of  Joseph,  that  "  by  faith,"  yea, 
"  by  faith,"  he  "  gave  commandment 
concerning  his  bones." 


SERMON    II. 


ANGELS    AS    EEMEMBR ANGERS. 


He  is  not  liciT,  but  is  risen :  remember  how  he  spake  nnto  you,  when  he  was  yet  in  Galilee,  saying, 
The  Son  of  Man  must  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  sinful  men,  and  be  cnjcilied,  and  the  third  day 
rise  again.    And  they  remembered  his  words." — St.  Luke,  24  :  C,  7,  8. 


It  was  a  saying  of  Luther,  and  one 
which  is  often  quoted  amongst  our- 
selves, "that  the  doctrine  of  justifica- 
tion by  faith  is  the  doctrine  of  a  stand- 
ing or  a  falling  church."  The  meaning 
of  the  saying  is,'that  so  vitally  import- 
ant, so  essential  to  the  very  existence 
of  a  christian  community,  is  the  doc- 
trine of  justification  by  faith,  that  you 
may  always  judge  whether  a  church 
is  in  a  healthful  or  a  declining  condi- 
tion, by  the  tenacity  with  Avhich  this 
doctrine  is  maintained,  and  the  clear- 
ness with  which  it  is  expounded.    We 


have  no  wish  to  dispute  the  truth  of 
the  saying;  for,  beyond  all  question, 
there  can  be  real  Christianity  only 
where  there  is  a  distinct  recognition 
of  the  fact,  that  "  a  man  is  justified  by 
faith  without  the  deeds  of  the  law." 

But,  nevertheless,  if  we  were  to  fix 
on  any  one  doctrine,  as  furnishing  pre- 
eminently a  test  by  which  to  try  the 
condition  of  a  church,  we  should  be 
disposed  to  take  that  of  spiritual  influ- 
ences, rather  than  that  of  justification 
by  faith.  V/e  cannot  but  think  that  he 
who  fails  to  recognize,  in  all  its  free- 


440 


ANGELS    AS    REMEMBRANCERS. 


ness,  that  we  are  "justified  by  faith," 
must  first  have  failed  to  recognize,  in 
all  humility,  that  "  we  are  not  suffi- 
cient of  ourselves  to  think  any  thing, 
as  of  ourselves,"  It  would  seem  to  fol- 
low, in  natural  consequence,  from  our 
fancying  ourselves  independent  on  su- 
pernatural teachings  that  we  should 
fancy  ourselves  capable,  in  a  measure, 
of  contributing  to  our  justification  ;  so 
that,  at  all  events,  he  who  practically 
forgets  that  the  Holy  Spirit  can  alone 
guide  into  truth,  is  likely  to  be  soon 
landed  in  error  on  the  fundamental 
points  of  a  sinner's  acceptance.  And 
whether  or  not  the  doctrine  of  spiri- 
tual influences  be  the  better  test  to 
apply,  in  attempting  to  determine  the 
condition  of  a  church,  there  can,  at 
least,  be  no  doubt  that  where  piety  is 
flourishing,  this  doctrine  will  be  deep- 
ly cherished ;  where  declining,  com- 
paratively neglected.  The  individual 
christian  will  "  grow  in  grace,"  in  pro- 
portion as  he  depends  on  the  teaching 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  habituates  him- 
self to  the  turning  to  this  divine  agent 
for  guidance,  comfort,  and  instruction 
in  righteousness.  And  any  branch  of 
the  Catholic  Church  will,  in  like  man- 
ner, be  vigorous  and  fruitful,  in  pro- 
portion as  it  honors  the  third  Person 
in  the  ever-blessed  Trinity,  distinctly 
recognizing  that  liis  influences  alone 
can  make  the  work  of  the  Second  ef- 
fectual to  salvation. 

But  when  we  speak  of  spiritual  influ- 
ence, we  are  far  from  wishing  to  con- 
fine the  expression  to  the  influences  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  as  though  no  other 
spiritual  agency  were  brought  to  bear 
upon  man.  We  desire  to  extend  it  to 
created,  though  invisible,  beings — to 
angels,  whether  evil  or  good — believ- 
ing, on  the  authority  of  Scripture,  that 
there  are  such  beings,  and  that  they 
continually  act  on  us  by  a  secret,  but 
most  efficient,  power.  And  where  there 
is  a  tolerably  distinct  recognition  of 
the  person  find  office  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
there  may  be  a  comparative  forgetful- 
ne€s,  if  not  an  actual  denial,  of  angelic 
ministrations;  anl  our  conviction  is, 
that  much  of  comfort  in  religion  is  lost, 
and  much  of  cold  ness  produced,  through 
the  little  heed  given  to  spiritual  influ- 
ences, thus  more  largely  understood. 
It  will  hardly  be  denied  that  the  mass 
of  christians  think  little,  if  at  all,  of 


angels ;  that  they  regard  them  as  be- 
ings so  far  removed  from  companion- 
ship with  ourselves,  that  discourse  on 
their  nature  and  occupation  must  de- 
serve the  character  of  unprofitable 
speculation.  If,  then,  the  preacher  take 
as  his  theme  the  burning  spirits  which 
surround  God's  throne,  he  will  proba- 
bly be  considered  as  adventuring  upon 
mysteries  too  high  for  research,  whilst 
there  is  abundance  of  more  practical 
topics  on  which  he  might  enlarge. 

Yet  it  cannot  have  been  intended 
that  we  should  thus  remain  ignorant  of 
angels :  it  cannot  be  true  that  there  is 
nothing  to  be  ascertained  in  regard  of 
these  creatures,  or  nothing  which  it  is 
for  our  instruction,  or  our  comfort,  to 
know.  There  is  a  petition  in  the  Lord's 
prayer  which  should  teach  us  better 
than  this — "  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth, 
as  it  is  in  heaven."  It  must  be  special- 
ly by  angels  that  God's  will  is  done  in 
heaven  ;  and  if  we  are  directed  to  take 
the  manner,  or  degree,  in  which  angels 
do  God's  will,  as  measuring  that  in 
which  we  should  desire  its  being  done 
by  men,  surely  it  can  neither  be  beyond 
our  power  to  know  any  thing  of  angels, 
nor  unimportant  that  we  study  to  be 
wise  up  to  what  is  written  regarding 
them  in  the  Bible.  And,  indeed,  so  far 
is  Scripture  from  leaving  angelic  min- 
istrations amongst  obscure,  or  inscru- 
table, things,  that  it  interweaves  it  with 
the  most  encouraging  of  its  promises, 
and  thus  strives,  as  it  were,  to  force  it 
upon  us  as  a  practical  and  personal 
truth.  Where  is  the  christian  that  has 
not  been  gladdened  by  words  such  as 
these,  "Because  thou  hast  made  the 
Lord,  who  is  my  refuge,  even  the  Most 
High,  thy  habitation,  there  shall  no  evil 
befall  thee,  neither  shall  any  plague 
come  nigh  thy  dwelling  1"  But  of  those 
to  v.'hom  these  words  speak  cheering- 
ly,  how  few,  perhaps,  give  attention  to 
the  following  verse,  though  evidently 
explanatory  of  the  agency  through 
which  the  promise  shall  be  accom- 
plished! "for  he  shall  give  his  angels 
charge  over  thee,  to  keep  thee  in  all 
thy  ways." 

And  it  ought  not  to  be  overlooked, 
that,  in  proportion  as  we  lose  sight  of 
the  doctrine,  that  good  angels  are 
"ministering  spirits,"  influencing  us 
for  righteousness,  we  are  likely  to  for 
get  the  power  of  our  great  "  adversary, 


ANGELS    AS    REMEMBRANCERS. 


441 


the  devil,"  who,  with  the  hosts  under 
his  guidance,  continually  labors  at  ef- 
fecting our  destruction.  It  can  hardly 
be  that  they,  who  are  keenly  alive  to 
their  exposure  to  the  assaults  of  ma- 
lignant, but  invisible,  enemies,  should 
be  indifferent  to  the  fact  of  their  hav- 
ing on  their  side  the  armies  of  Heaven  : 
good  and  evil  spirits  must  be  consider- 
ed as  antagonists  in  a  struggle  for 
ascendency  over  man ;  and  there  is, 
therefore,  more  than  a  likelihood,  that 
they  who  think  little  of  their  friends  in 
so  high  a  contest,  will  depreciate  their 
foes,  and  thus  more  than  ever  expose 
themselves  to  their  power. 

We  cannot,  then,  put  from  us  the 
opinion  that  the  doctrine  of  angelic 
ministrations  hardly  obtains  its  due 
share  of  attention,  and  that  it  ought  to 
be  pressed,  with  greater  frequency  and 
urgency,  by  the  ministers  of  Christ,  on 
those  committed  to  their  care.  There 
is,  indeed,  a  risk,  that  he  who  sets  him- 
self to  discourse  on  those  orders  of 
intelligent  being  which  stretch  up- 
wards between  God  and  man,  may  in- 
dulge in  fanciful  speculation,  and  for- 
get, amid  the  brilliancies  opened  up  to 
his  imagination,  that  he  is  bound  ex- 
clusively to  seek  the  profit  of  his  hear- 
ers. But  there  is  little  fear  of  his  pass- 
ing the  limits  of  what  is  sober  and  in- 
structive, so  long  as  he  confines  him- 
self to  what  is  written  in  Scripture, 
and  fixes  on  certain  prominent  facts 
which  lie  beyond  dispute,  because  ex- 
plicitly revealed.  It  is  this  which  we 
purpose  doing  in  our  present  discourse. 
We  wish,  indeed,  to  impress  upon  you 
that  a  spiritual  agency  is  ever  at  work 
on  your  behalf,  understandings  by  spi- 
ritual agency  not  merely  that  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  to  which  every  other  must 
be  necessarily  subordinate,  but  that  of 
those  orders  of  being  which  are  desig- 
nated in  Scripture  by  the  general  term 
"  angels,"  and  which  kept  their  "  first 
estate"  when  numbers  of  like  nature 
with  themselves  were  cast  out  from 
heaven  as  rebels  against  God.  But,  at 
the  same  time,  we  are  very  anxious  to 
advance  nothing  which  shall  not  have 
scriptural  warrant  for  its  truth,  and 
which  shall  not,  moreover,  present 
something  practical  on  which  you  may 
fasten.  Let  us  see,  then,  Avhether  the 
passage  which  we  have  taken  as  our 
text,  will  not  enable   us  to  illustrate, 


thus  soberly  and  profitably,  the  truth, 
that  ^angels  are  "  ministering  spirits, 
sent  forth  to  minister  for  them  who 
shall  be  heirs  of  salvation," 

Now  you  will  judge  at  once,  from 
this  introduction  to  our  subject,  that 
we  do  not  purpose  speaking  on  the 
fact  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ, 
though  this  fact,  as  matter  both  of  pro- 
phecy and  history,  seems  exclusively 
treated  of  in  the  words  of  our  text. 
What  we  want  you  to  observe  is,  that 
these  words  were  spoken  by  two  an- 
gels, who  appeared  to  the  women  that 
were  early  at  the  sepulchre ;  for, 
though  it  is  said  in  the  chapter  before 
us,  "  two  men  stood  by  them  in  shining 
garments,"  you  readily  find,  from  a 
comparison  of  the  Gospels,  that  the 
human  form  was  here  assumed  by  hea- 
venly beings;  that  they  were  spirits 
who,  in  the  likeness  of  flesh,  accosted 
the  women  as  they  sought  in  vain  for 
the  body  of  Christ.  It  is  not  here  to  be 
proved  that  there  are  such  beings  as 
angels  ;  neither  have  we  to  show  that 
they  are  endowed  with  great  might ; 
for  not  only  is  St.  Matthew's  descrip- 
tion of  the  apparition  of  the  men,  that 
"the  angel  of  the  Lord  descended  from 
heaven;"  but  he  adds,  that  "his  coun- 
tenance was  like  lightning,  and  his  rai- 
ment white  as  snow:  for  fear  of  him 
the  keepers  did  shake,  and  became  as 
dead  men."  But  assuming,  as  we  safe- 
ly may,  the  facts  of  the  ministration 
and  power  of  angels,  there  is  some- 
thing very  remarkable  in  the  circum- 
stance that  the  angels,  in  the  case  now 
before  us,  reminded  the  women  of 
something  which  had  been  said  to 
them  by  Christ,  and  that,  too,  in  a  re- 
mote place,  "whilst  he  was  yet  with 
them  in  Galilee."  How  came  these 
angels  to  be  so  well  acquainted  with 
what  had  been  said  by  Christ  to  the 
women  ]  They  speak  of  it  with  the 
greatest  familiaritj^,  as  though  they 
had  themselves  heard  the  prediction  : 
they  call  it  to  the  remembrance  of  the 
women,  just  as  one  of  you  might  re- 
mind his  neighbor,  or  friend,  of  parts 
of  a  sermon  at  whose  delivery  both 
had  been  present.  We  do  not,  indeed, 
profess  to  say  that  the  angels  might 
not  have  been  distinctly  informed  as 
to  what  Christ  had  uttered  in  Galilee  ; 
that  they  might  not  have  been  instruct- 
ed, by  immediate  revelation,  as  to 
!>6 


U2 


ANGELS    AS    RBMEMBRAWQERS. 


things  which  had  passed  when  them- 
selves were  not  present  to  see  or  to 
hear.  But  neither,  on  the  other  hand, 
can  any  one  say  that  the  angels  did 
not  gain  their  knowledge  from  having 
been  actually  amongst  the  audience  of 
Christ ;  whilst  the  supposition  of  their 
having  heard  for  themselves,  agrees 
best  with  the  tone  of  their  address,  and 
is  certainly  in  keeping  with  other  state- 
ments of  Scripture. 

For  if  we  gather,  from  the  fami- 
liar manner  in  which  the  angels  quote 
Christ's  sayings  to  the  women,  that 
they,  as  well  as  the  women,  had  been 
present  when  those  sayings  were  ut- 
tered, we  only  infer — what  may  be 
proved  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible — that 
angels  are  actually,  though  invisibly, 
in  the  midst  of  our  worshipping  assem- 
blies, witnesses  of  our  deportment,  and 
hearers  of  that  Gospel  to  which,  too 
often,  we  give  so  languid  an  attention. 
This  would  seem  to  be  the  doctrine  of 
St.  Paul,  when  he  speaks  to  the  Ephe- 
sians  of  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  as 
"  to  the  intent  that  now,  unto  the  princi- 
palities and  powers  in  heavenly  places, 
might  be  known  by  the  Church  the 
manifold  wisdom  of  God,"  Here  the 
Church,  in  and  through  her  public  mi- 
nistrations, is  represented  as  furnish- 
ing instruction  to  angelic  orders  of 
being,  as  though  these  lofty  creatures 
came  down  to  her  solemn  assemblies, 
not  only  as  observers,  but  as  seeking 
lessons  for  themselves  in  mysteries 
which,  beforetime,  they  had  vainly 
striven  to  explore.  And  when  the  same 
Apostle  exhorts  the  Corinthian  women 
to  have  a  modest  veil,  or  covering,  over 
their  heads,  in  their  religious  meetings, 
he  persuades  them  by  this  very  consi- 
deration, that  thej^  appeared  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  angels — "  because  of  the 
artgels," — and  thus  gives  all  the  sanc- 
tion of  his  authority  to  the  opinion, 
that  angels  are  amongst  us  when  we 
gather  together  for  public  worship. 

This,  then,  is  the  first  conclusion,  a 
conclusion  borne  out  by  other  state- 
ments of  Scripture,  which  we  derive 
from  the  familiar  acquaintance  which 
the  angels  manifest  with  what  Christ 
had  said  to  the  women  in  Galilee ; 
namely,  that  angels  are  present  when 
the  Gospel  is  preached  :  angels  had  in 
all  likelihood  been  present  when  the 
Redeemer  announced  his  death  and  re- 


surrection ;  and  we  may  believe  that, 
similarly,  as  the  proclamation  of  re- 
demption is  now  solemnly  and  statedly 
made,  there  are  other  auditors  besides 
those  whom  our  senses  can  discern ; 
that,  like  the  prophet's  servant,  we 
need  only  the  purging  and  strengthen- 
ing of  our  vision,  and  in  addition  to  the 
breathing  masses  of  our  fellow-men,  we 
should  presently  ascertain  the  place  of 
our  assembling  to  be  thronged  with 
burning  forms,  those  stately  intelli- 
gences which  are  '\the  ministers  of 
God,"  executing  his  will  throughout 
his  vast  and  replenished  dominion. 
And  we  need  hardly  stay  to  point  out 
to  you  what  an  additional  solemnity 
this  should  cast  over  these  our  gather- 
ings in  the  house  of  the  Lord  ;  for  it 
must  commend  itself  to  you  all,  that 
the  being  actually  tinder  the  observa- 
tion of  the  heavenly  hosts,  the  having 
in  the  midst  of  us,  as  inspectors  of 
what  passes,  a  multitude  of  glorious 
creatures,  the  cherubim  and  seraphim 
that  are  permitted  to  enter  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  God  himself,  should 
greatly  tend  to  the  banishing  from 
amongst  us  all  that  is  cold  and  frivol- 
ous and  listless,  and  to  the  keeping  us 
in  that  attitude  of  reverent  attention 
which  should  be  always  assumed,  yet 
is  often  wanting,  where  men  profess  to 
seek  an  audience  of  their  Maker. 

But  we  wish  specially  to  impress 
upon  you  a  purpose  for  which  angels 
may  be  present  at  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel,  and  which  may  be  taken  as  il- 
lustrating gererally  the  nature  of  their 
ministrations  on  our  behalf.  We  ga- 
ther at  once,  from  our  Lord's  parable 
of  the  sower,  as  expounded  by  Him- 
self, that  Satan  busily  endeavors  to 
counteract  the  preaching  of  the  Gos- 
pel ;  for  it  is  said,  in  explanation  of  the 
seed  sown  by  the  way-side,  "  When 
any  one  heareth  the  word  of  the  king- 
dom, and  understandeth  it  not,  then 
cometh  the  wicked  one,  and  catcheth 
away  that  which  was  sown  in  his 
heart."  There  is  no  interpretation  to 
be  put  upon  this,  save  that  the  devil  is 
ever  watching  the  effect  wrought  by 
the  delivery  of  the  word,  and  that, 
with  an  earnestness  only  equalled  by 
his  malice,  he  labors  to  thwart  it  when- 
soever it  threatens  to  be  injurious  to 
his  power.  And  if  evil  angels  be  thus 
present  at  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel, 


ANGl 


AS    REMEMBRANCERS. 


443 


in  the  hope  of  making  it  ineffectual, 
why  should  we  doubt  that  good  angels 
are  present,  to  strive  to  gain  it  place, 
and  give  it  impressiveness  1  Present, 
we  have  every  assurance  that  they  are  ; 
and  if  we  consider  that,  throughout 
Scripture,  good  and  evil  angels  are  re- 
presented as  engaged  in  a  struggle,  a 
struggle  for  ascendency  over  man,  we 
must  believe  that  the  efforts  of  the  one 
are  met  by  precisely  antagonist  efforts 
on  the  part  of  the  others,  every  mine 
having  its  countermine  ;  so  that  if  they 
who  are  against  us  labor  to  catch  away 
the  word,  they  who  are  for  us  labor  to 
imprint  it,  to  procure  for  it  a  hold  and 
grasp  upon  the  hearers. 

And  this  gives  something  of  a  prac- 
tical and  tangible  character  to  that  high 
contest  which  is  going  forwards  be- 
tween ''  principalities  and  powers."  We 
need  not  lose  ourselves  in  endeavoring 
to  image  the  shock  of  spiritual  intel- 
ligences, meeting  on  some  field  of  far- 
distant  space,  with  all  the  emblazonry 
of  celestial  pomp,  and  in  all  the  terri- 
bleness  of  super-human  strength.  It 
may  be  thus  that  poetry  loves  to  dwell 
on  the  battles  of  angels;  but  theology 
has  rather  to  do  away  with  this  mar- 
tial magnificence,  to  carry  the  war  into 
the  narrow  domain  of  a  single  human 
heart,  and  there  to  give  it  the  charac- 
ter of  a  moral  conflict,  a  struggle  be- 
tween principles,  supported  and  press- 
ed by  the  opposite  parties  which  ap- 
pear as  combatants,  and  engage  in  the 
championship,  whether  of  falsehood  or 
truth.  The  very  place  of  our  present 
assembling  is  a  scene  for  the  hostile 
meeting  of  evil  angels  and  good ;  and 
there  is  not  one  of  you  who  does  not 
himself  furnish  a  field  for  that  strife 
between  invisible  powers,  which  Scrip- 
tural imagery  invests  with  the  myste- 
riousness  that  belongs  to  the  vast  and 
inscrutable.  As  the  preacher  sets  be- 
fore you  your  sinfulness,  and,  exhort- 
ing you  to  amendment,  shows  you  the 
provision  made  by  God  for  your  par- 
don and  acceptance,  the  words  which 
he  utters  are  just  as  weapons,  on  which 
the  combatants  labor  to  seize;  the  evil 
angels  that  they  may  blunt  and  throw 
them  away,  the  good  that  they  may 
thrust  them  into  the  understanding, 
and  the  conscience,  and  the  heart.  But, 
then,  let  it  never  be  overlooked  that 
we  are  ourselves    answerable  for  the 


issue  of  this  struggle ;  that  neither 
good  angels,  nor  evil,  can  carry  their 
end,  except  so  far  as  they  have  us  for 
auxiliaries.  It  were  of  all  things  the 
easiest,  to  make  the  contest,  of  which 
we  are  the  objects,  an  excuse  for  our 
remaining  indifferent  to  the  Gospel, 
pleading  that  it  rested  with  those  who 
professed  to  fight  our  cause,  to  gain 
for  it  admission  into  the  recesses  of  the 
soul.  But  exactly  as  we  are  not  to 
"grieve  the  Holy  Spirit,"  and,  in  pro- 
portion as  we  grieve  Him,  must  expect 
his  influences  to  be  less  powerfully  put 
forth  on  our  behalf,  so  are  we  to  take 
heed  to  second  good  angels,  who  can 
but  be  instruments  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  e"mploys;  and  to  expect  that  the 
Gospel  will  lay  hold  on  the  heart,  in 
proportion  as  we  strive  to  clear  away 
prejudice,  and  to  receive  it  with  docili- 
ty and  meekness. 

And  if  you  want  proof  how  much 
may  be  lost  through  deficiency  in  that 
heedfulness  which  would  aid  good  an- 
gels in  their  endeavors  to  give  effect 
to  the  word,  it  is  furnished  by  what  we 
know  of  the  women  whom  such  angels 
address  in  the  text.  There  could  appa- 
rently have  been  nothing  plainer  than 
the  preaching  of  our  blessed  Savior,  in 
regard  of  his  own  death  and  resurrec- 
tion. He  announced,  in  simple,  une- 
quivocal terms,  that  he  should  be  cru- 
cified by  his  enemies,  but  that  on  the 
third  day  he  would  rise  from  the  dead  ; 
and  angels,  as  it  now  seems,  were  pre- 
sent to  imprint  his  words  on  the  minds 
of  the  hearers,  to  prevent  their  being 
carried  away,  as  the  seed  is  carried 
which  falls  by  the  way-side.  But  the 
followers  of  the  Redeemer  had  their 
minds  preoccupied  by  prejudices  ;  they 
were  still  looking  for  a  temporal  deliv- 
erer, and  could  not  tolerate  the  men- 
tion of  an  ignominious  death,  for  they 
associated  with  it  the  overthrow  of 
long-cherished  hopes.  Hence,  there 
was  no  seconding  of  good  angels,  but 
rather  a  distinct  taking  part  with  evil ; 
and  consequently  the  words,  which 
might  have  been  remembered,  and 
could  not  have  been  misunderstood, 
even  by  a  child,  appear  to  have  been 
completely  obliterated,  so  that  the 
hearers  remained  with  as  little  expec- 
tation of  what  was  coming  on  their 
Lord,  as  though  he  had  never  fore- 
warned them,  or  forewarned  them  only 


444. 


ANGELS    AS    REI>IEMBRA1«ERS 


in  dubious  and  mystical  terms.  When, 
therefore,  the  time  of  trial  came,  it  vir- 
tually found  them  wholly  unprepared  ; 
and  the  death  of  Jesus  as  actually  de- 
molished their  hopes  as  if  he  had  not 
told  them  that  it  should  be  rapidly  fol- 
lowed by  his  resurrection.  The  wo- 
men, who,  had  they  but  remembered 
and  believed,  might  have  come  to  the 
sepulchre,  rejoicing  in  the  assurance 
that  it  could  not  long  hold  its  prey, 
came  weeping  and  disheartened,  bring- 
ing with  them  spices  to  anoint  the  body 
which  they  supposed  would  remain  an 
inmate  of  the  grave.  And  it  might  well 
have  made  them  shed  tears  over  their 
own  darkness  and  inibelief,  even  in  the 
midst  of  their  gladness  at  the  triumph 
won  over  death, that  the  angels,  in  prov- 
ing to  them  the  resurrection,  had  only 
to  adduce  words  which  should  have 
prevented  their  seeking  "the  living 
among  the  dead  ;"  that  they  had  sim- 
ply  to  say  to  them,  "  Remember  how 
he  spake  unto  you,  when  he  was  yet 
with  you  in  Galilee." 

But  now  it  should  be  more  carefully 
observed,  that  this  reminding  the  wo- 
men of  what  had  been  said  to  them  by 
Christ,  is  probably  but  an  example  of 
what  continually  occurs  in  the  minis- 
tration of  angels.  The  great  object  of 
our  discourse  is  to  illustrate  this  mi- 
nistration, to  give  it  something  of  a 
tangible  character  ;  and  we  gladly  seize 
on  the  circumstance  of  the  angels  re- 
calling to  the  minds  of  the  women 
things  which  had  been  heard,  because 
it  seems  to  place  under  a  practical 
point  of  view  what  is  too  generally 
considered  mere  useless  speculation. 
And  though  we  do  not  indeed  look 
for  any  precise  repetition  of  the  scene 
given  in  our  text,  for  angels  do  not 
now  take  visible  shapes  in  order  to 
commune  with  men,  we  know  not  why 
we  should  not  ascribe  to  angelic  mi- 
nistration facts  accurately  similar,  if 
not  as  palpably  proceeding  from  su- 
pernatural agency.  We  think  that  we 
shall  be  borne  out  by  the  experience 
of  every  believer  in  Christ,  when  we 
affirm  that  texts  of  Scripture  are  often 
suddenly  and  mysteriously  brought  into 
the  mind;  texts  which  have  not  per- 
haps recently  engaged  our  attention, 
but  which  are  most  nicely  suited  to 
our  circumstances,  or  which  furnish 
most  precisely  the  material  then  need- 


• 
ed  by  our  wants.  There  will  enter  into 
the  spirit  of  a  christian,  on  whom  has 
fallen  some  unexpected  temptation,  a 
passage  of  the  Bible  which  is  just  as  a 
weapon  wherewith  to  foil  his  assailant; 
or  if  it  be  an  unlooked-for  difficulty 
into  which  he  is  plunged,  the  occurring- 
verses  will  be  those  best  adapted  for 
counsel  and  guidance  ;  or  if  it  be  some 
fearful  trouble  with  which  he  is  visit- 
ed, then  will  there  pass  through  all  the 
chambers  of  the  soul  gracious  declara- 
tions, which  the  inspired  writers  will 
seem  to  have  uttered  and  registered  on 
purpose  for  himself.  And  it  may  be 
that  the  christian  will  observe  nothing 
peculiar  in  this:  there  may  appear  to 
him  nothing  but  an  effort  of  memory, 
roused  and  acted  on  by  the  circum- 
stances in  which  he  is  placed  ;  and  he 
may  consider  it  as  natural,  that  suita- 
ble passages  should  throng  into  his 
mind,  as  that  he  should  remember  an 
event  at  the  place  where  he  knows  it 
to  have  happened. 

But  let  him  ask  himself  whether  he 
is  not,  on  the  other  hand,  often  con- 
scious of  the  intrusion  into  his  soul  of 
what  is  base  and  defiling  1  Whether,  if 
he  happen  to  have  heard  the  jeer  and 
the  blasphemy,  the  parody  on  sacred 
things,  or  the  insult  upon  moral,  they 
will  not  be  frequently  recurring  to  his 
mind  1  recurring  too  at  moments  when 
there  is  least  to  provoke  them,  and 
when  it  had  been  most  his  endeavor  to 
gather  round  him  an  atmosphere  of 
what  is  sacred  and  pure.  And  we  never 
scruple  to  give  it  as  matter  of  consola- 
tion to  a  christian,  harassed  by  these 
vile  invasions  of  his  soul,  that  he  may 
justly  ascribe  them  to  the  agency  of 
the  devil :  wicked  angels  inject  into 
the  mind  the  foul  and  polluting  quota- 
tion ;  and  there  is  not  necessarily  any 
sin  in  receiving  it,  though  there  must 
be  if  we  give  it  entertainment,  in  place 
of  casting  it  instantly  out.  But  why 
should  we  be  so  ready  to  go  for  expla- 
nation to  the  power  of  memory,  and  the 
force  of  circumstances,  when  apposite 
texts  occur  to  the  mind,  and  then  re- 
solve into  Satanic  agency  the  profana- 
tion of  the  spirit  with  what  is  blasphe- 
mous and  base  1  It  were  far  more  con- 
sistent to  admit  a  spiritual  influence  in 
the  one  case  as  well  as  in  the  other ; 
to  suppose,  that,  if  evil  angels  syllable 
to  the  soul  what  may  have  been  heard 


ANGELS    AS    REMEMBRANCERS. 


445 


or  read  of  revolting  and  impure,  good 
angels  breathe  into  its  recesses  the  sa- 
cred words,  not  perhaps  recently  pe- 
rused, but  which  apply  most  accurate- 
ly to  our  existing  condition.  It  is  ex- 
pressly said  of  the  devil,  that  he  is  "  the 
spirit  that  worketh  in  the  children  of 
disobedience,"  as  though  he  not  mere- 
ly had  access  to  their  minds,  but  took 
up  his  abode  there,  that  he  might  car- 
ry on,  as  in  a  citadel,  the  war  and  the 
stratagem;  And  if  evil  angels  have  such 
power  over  the  thoughts  of  men  for 
evil,  it  seems  unreasonable  to  question 
that  good  angels  have  as  great  influ- 
ence over  them  for  good  ;  that  they  too 
work  in  the  children  of  obedience,  and 
are  mainly  instrumental  in  calling  up 
and  marshalling  those  solemn  proces- 
sions of  sacred  remembrances  which 
pass,  with  silent  tread,  through  the 
chambers  of  the  spirit,  and  leave  on 
them  the  impress  of  their  pureness  and 
power. 

We  do  not  wish  to  draw  you  away, 
in  the  least  degree,  from  the  truth,  that 
"  the  eternal  uncreated  Spirit  of  God 
alone,  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  the  author  of 
our  sanctification,  the  infuser  into  us 
of  the  principle  of  divine  life,  and  He 
only  is  able  to  overrule  our  wills,  to 
penetrate  the  deepest  secrets  of  our 
hearts,  and  to  rectify  our  most  inward 
faculties."*  But  surely  it  does  not  in- 
fringe the  office  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  to 
suppose,  with  Bishop  Bull,  that  "good 
angels  may,  and  often  do,  as  instru- 
ments of  the  Divine  goodness,  power- 
fully operate  upon  our  fancies  and  ima- 
ginations, and  thereby  prompt  us  to  pi- 
ous thoughts,  affections,  and  actions." 
They  were  angels,  as  you  will  remem- 
ber, which  came  and  ministered  to  our 
Lord  after  He  had  been  exposed  in  the 
wilderness  to  extraordinary  assaults 
from  the  devil.  He  had  the  Spirit 
without  measure  ;  but,  nevertheless,  as 
though  to  mark  to  us  the  agency  which 
this  Spirit  is  often  pleased  to  employ, 
it  was  in  and  through  angels  that  con- 
solation was  imparted  ;  even  as,  in  the 
dread  hour  of  his  last  conflict  with 
the  powers  of  darkness,  "  there  appear- 
ed an  angel  unto  him  from  heaven, 
strengthening  him."  And  with  every 
admission  of  the  abundant  comfort 
contained  in  the  truth,  that  a  Divine 

*  Bishop  Bull. 


person,  even  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  con- 
tinually engaged  with  observing  our 
course,  and  promoting  our  welfare,  we 
cannot  but  feel  that  it  makes  this  truth 
more  tangible,  or  brings  it  more  home 
to  our  perception,  to  suppose  such  be- 
ings as  angels  employed  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  carry  on  his  work.  You  know 
practically  what  comfort  there  is  in  the 
thought  of  its  being  in  human  form 
that  the  Second  Person  of  the  Trinity 
discharges  the  office  of  Intercessor: 
we  should  be  quite  lost  in  approaching 
Him,  were  it  merely  as  God  that  He 
ministers  above  ;  but  we  are  more  at 
home,  and  we  feel  greatly  assured,  in 
having,  so  to  speak,  a  created  medium, 
through  which  to  draw  nigh. 

And  what  is  thus  true  of  the  work 
of  intercession,  carried  on  by  the  Se- 
cond Person,  is  true  also,  in  its  mea- 
sure, of  the  work  of  sanctification, 
which  appertains  specially  to  the  Third. 
We  can  better  apprehend  this  work, 
when  we  associate  with  it  a  created 
though  subordinate  agency;  and  that, 
which  might  seem  vague  and  indefinite, 
if  referred  wholly  to  one  infinite  and 
inapproachable  Being,  commends  itself 
to  us,  both  as  actually  going  forward, 
and  as  beautifully  fitted  to  our  weak- 
ness and  wants,  when  we  know  it  ef- 
fected, through  the  instrumentality  of 
creatures  higher  indeed  and  far  more 
glorious  than  ourselves,  but  neverthe- 
less creatures  who  have  themselves 
known  what  moral  danger  is,  and  who 
can  therefore  rejoice,  with  ineffable 
gladness,  over  one  sinner  who  turns 
from  the  error  of  his  ways.  That  I 
cannot  see  these  angels  busying  them- 
selves with  the  work  of  my  sanctifica- 
tion, is  no  more  an  argument  against 
there  being  comfort  in  the  fact,  than  is 
my  not  seeing  the  glorified  humanity 
of  Christ,  against  the  encouragement 
which  it  gives  as  to  the  work  of  inter- 
cession. In  both  cases  I  believe  that 
there  is  a  something  created,  and 
therefore  a  something  not  too  far  re- 
moved from  myself,  which  is  engaged 
in  ministrations  for  my  good  ;  and  thus, 
in  both  cases,  there  has  been  a  conde- 
scension to  the  weakness  of  my  nature, 
and  God  may  be  said  to  have  come 
near  to  me  without  the  blaze  of  his 
celestial  effulgence,  that  his  terror 
might  not  make  me  afraid.  Job,  33  :  7. 
Not  only  therefore  can  I  regard  it 


us 


AXGELS    AS    REMEMBKANCERS. 


as  credible,  that  angels  stir  up  our  tor- 
pid memories,  and  bring  truths  to  our 
recollection,  as  they  did  to  the  women 
at  the  sepulchre  of  Christ, — I  can  re- 
joice in  it  as  fraught  with  consolation, 
because  showing  that  a  created  instru- 
mentality is  used  by  the  Holy  Ghost  in 
the  renewing  our  nature.  And  surely 
it  may  well  excite  gladness,  that  there 
is  around  the  christian  the  guardian- 
ship of  heavenly  hosts  ;  that,  whilst  his 
pathway  is  thronged  by  malignant  spir- 
its, whose  only  effort  is  to  involve  him 
in  their  everlasting  shame,  it  is  also 
thronged  by  ministers  of  grace,  who 
long  to  have  him  as  their  companion  in 
the  presence  of  God  ;  for  there  is  thus 
what  we  might  almost  dare  to  call  a 
visible  array  of  power  on  our  side,  and 
we  mny  take  all  that  confidence  which 
should  result  from  being  actually  per- 
mitted to  look  on  the  antagonists,  and 
to  see  that  there  are  more  with  us  than 
there  are  against.  We  will  not  debate 
whether  other  and  satisfactory  solu- 
tions may  be  given  of  the  fact  which 
has  furnished  our  illustration  of  angelic 
ministration,  but  we  doubt  whether  any 
can  be  more  scriptural;  and  whilst  it 
agrees  so  well  with  their  general  of- 
fice, and  is  so  fitted  to  strengthen  us  in 
our  pilgrimage,  we  shall  venture  to  re- 
gard angels  as  God's  remembrancers 
to  man.  And  they  may  talk  to  me  of 
the  tenacity  of  memory,  and  the  force 
of  circumstances — the  tenacity  of  me- 
mory, which  will  often  hardly  serve  us 
from  day  to  day,  but  lets  slip  a  hun- 
dred things  which  we  longed  to  retain  ! 
the  force  of  circumstances,  which, 
ordinarily,  save  where  there  exists 
great  presence  of  mind,  bewilder  and 
perplex,  rather  than  suggest  the  fitting 
and  appropriate!  Yea,  they  may  talk 
of  the  tenacity  of  memory,  and  the 
force  of  circumstances,  and  think  to 
explain  from  such  elements  that  recur- 
rence to  the  mind  of  suitable  texts,  that 
sudden  resurrection  of  forgotten  pas- 
sages of  Scripture,  at  the  very  moment 
when  they  apply  with  greatest  accura- 
cy, which  every  christian  is  conscious 
of  in  himself,  and  which  he  will  find 
exemplified  in  the  experience  of  others. 
We  have  a  better  way  of  accounting 
for  the  phenomenon ;  a  better,  inas- 
much as  (were  there  nothing  else  to  be 
said)  it  leaves  to  tlie  aged  the  consola- 
tion of  knowing  that  memory  mny  de- 


cay, and  yet  the  Bible  not  depart  from 
their  minds.  And  who  has  not  seen  this 
exhibited  in  the  aged  1  The  grey-head- 
ed christian,  when  he  has  almost  for- 
gotten even  the  faces  of  friends,  will 
yet  familiarly  quote  the  sayings  of 
Scripture.  We  have  then,  we  say,  a 
better  way  of  explaining  the  phenome- 
non. We  ascribe  it  to  the  suggestings 
of  those  "  ministering  spirits,"  which 
wait  on  the  "heirs  of  salvation,"  that 
texts  and  passages  of  Holy  Writ  come 
so  mysteriously,  but  appropriately,  in- 
to the  mind.  Oh,  it  is  not  the  burning 
and  beautiful  imagery  of  poetry  alone, 
which  would  people  the  air,  and  make 
it  melodious  with  the  voices  of  invisi- 
ble beings.  After  all,  there  is  more  of 
real  poetry  in  the  facts  of  theology, 
than  in  the  finest  excursions  of  the  hu- 
man imagination.  I  believe,  I  do  not 
fancy,  that  there  are  silent  whisperings 
to  the  soul  from  spiritual  creatures  : 
the  texts  which  rise  up  so  wonderful- 
ly in  the  hour  whether  of  temptation 
or  of  sorrow,  as  though  made  for  the 
occasion,  are  actually  the  utterances 
of  guardian  beings  ;  and  if  there  were 
more  of  a  demonstration  to  the  senses, 
than  when  passages  occur  to  ourselves, 
I  know  not  why  we  should  think  there 
was  a  more  literal  suggestion  of  truth 
to  the  mind,  in  the  scene  presented  by 
our  text,  when  angels,  appearing  as 
men,  said  to  the  women  that  were  early 
at  the  sepulchre,  "Remember  how  he 
spake  unto  you,  when  he  was  yet  with 
you  in  Galilee." 

But  it  is  hardly  possible  to  read  these 
words  of  the  angels,  and  not  to  feel 
how  reproachfully  they  must  have  fall- 
en on  the  ears  of  the  women !  how 
they  must  have  upbraided  them  with 
want  of  attention  and  of  faith  !  For  had 
they  but  listened  heedfully  to  what 
Christ  had  said,  and  had  they  but  given 
due  credence  to  his  words,  they  would 
have  come  in  triumph  to  welcome  the 
living,  in  place  of  mournfully  with  spi- 
ces to  embalm  the  dead.  If  it  minister- 
ed to  them  gladness,  to  be  told  that 
their  Lord  had  risen,  it  must  have  oc- 
casioned them  sorrow  to  be  reminded 
that  he  himself  had  foretold  his  resur- 
rection^ so  that  their  presence  at  the 
tomb,  bearing  what  they  meant  to  evi- 
dence their  love,  spake  of  nothing  more 
deeply  than  of  the  neglect  with  which 
they  had  treated  his  words.  It  was  well 


ANGELS    AS    KEMEMBRAKCERS. 


447 


for  these  women  that  they  were  thus 
taught  their  inattention  and  unbelief 
whilst  it  was  not  too  late  for  repent- 
ance and  confession.  They  might  have 
been  left  to  die  in  their  forgetfulness; 
for  there  is  nothing  in  their  history  to 
show  that  the  strength  of  memory  and 
the  force  of  circumstances  would  have 
brought  Christ's  words  to  their  re- 
membrance ;  on  the  contrary,  the  emp- 
ty sepulchre,  which  you  would  have 
thought  most  likely  to  recall  the  words, 
had  nothing  but  a  bewildering  effect; 
for  you  read,  "they  found  the  stone 
rolled  away  from  the  sepulchre,  and 
they  entered  in,  and  found  not  the  body 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  and  it  came  to  pass, 
as  they  were  much  perplexed  therea- 
bout, behold,  two  men  stood  by  them 
in  shining  garments."  The  circumstan- 
ces were  precisely  those  which  might 
have  been  expected  to  suggest  the 
long-neglected  sayings,  and  thus  cause 
the  truth  to  flash  upon  the  mind :  yet 
you  see,  that  had  there  not  been  the 
angelic  interference,  the  women  would 
have  had  no  explanation  to  give  of 
the  disappearance  of  the  body  of  their 
Lord.  And  they  might  have  been  left 
without  this  interference  ;  suffered  to 
die  with  Christ's  words  as  witnesses 
against  them,  witnesses  which  would 
have  proved  them  inexcusable  in  not 
knowing  that  Messiah  was  to  be  cruci- 
fied for  sin,  but  not  suffered  to  see  cor- 
ruption in  the  grave. 

But  God  dealt  more  graciously  with 
these  women  than  their  inattention,  or 
want  of  faith,  had  deserved;  he  caused 
the  words  to  be  brought  to  their  re- 
membrance, whilst  they  might  yet  in- 
spire confidence,  though  they  could 
hardly  fail  also  to  excite  bitter  contri- 
tion. It  is  often  thus  with  ourselves  ; 
the  appropriate  text  is  made  to  recur 
to  the  mind ;  but  whilst  we  gather 
from  it  an  abundance  of  comfort,  we 
are  forced  to  reproach  ourselves  for 
having  been  cast  down,  or  terrified, 
when  God  had  put  such  truths  upon 
record  as  should  have  left  no  place 
for  anxiety  or  doubt.  If  Christ  be  wa- 
kened from  his  sleep,  through  our  ter- 
ror at  the  storm,  he  may  not  only  re- 
buke the  winds  and  the  waves,  but 
chide  us  at  the  same  time  as  men  "  of 
little  faith." 

May  it  not,  however,  be,  that,  where 
there  has  been  wilful  inattention  to  the 


word,  there  will  not  always  occur  this 
angelic   recalling   of  it  to  the   mindl 
not,  at  least,  whilst  there  is  yet  time 
for  the  laying  it  to  heart  %    We  dare 
not   doubt  this.     And   if  the   remem- 
bered words  fall  reproachfully  on  the 
ear,  when  we   may  yet  make   use   of 
them  for  good,  what,  alas !  shall  it  be 
if  the   words   be  then    only  recalled, 
when  there  shall  no  longer  be  "place 
for  repentance  1"    Our  blessed  Savior 
Himself,  speaking  of  what  shall  be  the 
process  of  judgment  at  the  last  dread- 
ful day,  makes  his  word  the  great  ac- 
cuser of  all  such  as  reject  him.    "  He 
that  rejecteth  me,  and  receiveth  not 
my  words,  hath  one  that  judgeth  him : 
the  word  that  I  have  spoken,  the  same 
shall  judge  him  in  the  last  day."     And 
when  with  this  you  connect  the  part 
which  angels  are  to  take  ia  the  awful 
assize  on  the  whole  race  of  man  ;  for 
we  read  that  "the  angels  shall  come 
forth,  and  sever  the  wicked  from  among 
the  just :"  that  "  the  Son  of  Man  shall 
send  forth  his  angels,  and  they  shall 
gather  out  of  his  kingdom  all  things 
that  offend,  and  them  which  do  iniqui- 
ty, and  shall  cast  them  into  a  furnace 
of  fire  ;" — 0  terrible  thought,  that  the 
very  beings  Avho  now  watch  over  us 
as  friends,  good  angels,  not  evil,  shall 
bind  up  the  offending,  and  cast  them  in- 
to Hell ! — when,  we  say,  you  connect 
what    Christ    says  of    his  word,  with 
what  He   elsewhere    says    of   angels ; 
the  word,  the  condemning  thing  at  the 
judgment,  the  angels,  the  ministers  of 
vengeance  ;    you  can  hardly  question 
that  the  oflice,  which  celestial  beings 
performed  towards  the  women  at  the 
resurrection   of  Christ,   is  one  which 
they  will  yet  perform  towards  multi- 
tudes, when  the  earth  and  the  sea  shall 
have   given  up   their  dead.    Is  it  the 
sensualist  who  is  being  carried  away  in- 
to outer  darkness  1  and  wherefore  is  he 
speechless  1    The  attendant  angel  hath 
said,  "  Remember  how  he  spake  unto 
you  when  he  was  yet  with  you  upon 
earth  ;    Neither  fornicators,  nor  adul- 
terers, nor  effeminate,  nor  drunkards, 
shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God."    It 
is  the  word  which  judges  him,  and  it 
is  the  angel  which  binds  him.  Is  it  the 
covetous  on  whom  has  been  passed  a 
sentence  against  which  he  has  nothing 
to  urge  1    The  angel  hath  said,  "  Re- 
member how  he  spake  imto  you,  Co- 


us 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


vetousness,  which  is  idolatry,"  Is  it  j 
the  proud  1  "  Remember  how  he  spake  I 
imto  you,  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but 
giveth  grace  unto  the  lowly."  Is  it  the 
careless  and  the  indifferent  l  "  Remem- 
ber how  he  spake  imto  you,  What 
shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his 
souH"  Is  it  the  procrastinator,  who 
had  deferred  the  season  of  repen- 
tance! "Remember  how  he  spake 
unto  you,  Behold,  now  is  the  accept- 
ed time ;  behold,  now  is  the  day  of 
salvation.", 

In  each  and  every  case  the  Word 
may  judge,  and  the  angels  may  bind. 
O  that  this  were  well  laid  to  heart  by 
all  in  the  present  assembly^!  We  ven- 
ture to  say  that  it  happens  to  all  of 
you  to  have  passages  of  Scripture  pow- 
erfully brought  home  to  the  mind — you 
know  not  by  what  agency,  and  you  can- 
not, perhaps,  account  for  the  sudden  in- 
trusion— but  there  they  are;  passages 
which  would  dissuade  you  from  some 
pursuit  on  which  you  are  tempted  to 
enter,  or  urge  you  to  some  duty  which 
you  are  tempted  to  neglect.  It  is  the 
voice  of  a  guardian  spirit,  that  spirit, 
perhaps,  which,  in  holy  baptism,  was 


specially  appointed  to  attend  your 
course,  which  you  should  consider 
that  you  hear  in  these  whispered  pas- 
sages. Hearken  ye  diligently  to  this 
silent  voice.  Ye  resist  the  Holy  Ghost 
when  ye  resist  the  angel  that  would 
thus,  I  by  adducing  jScripture,  rebuke 
you,  as  the  women  were  rebuked,  for 
seeking  "the  living  amongst  the  dead," 
the  food  of  the  soul  amid  the  objects  of 
sense.  If,  when  secretly  reminded  of 
the  truth,  ye  will  give  heed,  and  act 
forthwith  on  the  suggested  lesson — 
whether  it  prompt  to  prayer  or  to  re- 
sistance, or  to  self-denial,  or  to  amend- 
ment— we  can  promise  you  such  as- 
sistance from  above  as  shall  carry  you 
on  towards  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 
But  if  ye  refuse,  and  turn  a  deaf  ear, 
alas  !  alas  !  the  voice  may  never  again 
be  heard  on  this  side  the  grave.  Yet 
the  words  have  not  perished ;  the  words 
cannot  perish :  again,  again,  shall  they 
find  a  voice,  but  a  voice  which  will  be 
burdened  with  condemnation;  for  thus 
shall  it  introduce  at  the  judgment  the 
long-neglected  sayings,  "  Remember 
how  he  spake  unto  you,  whilst  he  was 
yet  with  you  upon  earth." 


SERMON   III. 


THE  BURNING  OF  THE  MAGICAL  BOOKS. 


'Many  of  them  alio  wliicli  use  J  cnrioiii  arts,  brought  their  books  together,  antl  btimed  them  before  al] 
men :  and  they  counted  the  pi-ice  of  them,  and  found  it  fifty  thousand  pieces  of  sih'er." — Acts,  19  :  19. 


This  occurred  at  Ephesus,  a  cele- 
brated city  of  Asia  Minor,  which  con- 
tained that  magnificent  temple  of  Di- 
ana, which  was  reckoned  amongst  the 
wonders  of  the  world.  The  Ephesians, 
it  appears,  were  greatly  addicted  to 
the  study  of  curious  arts,  to  magic, 
sorcery,  and  judicial  astrology,  so 
that    "  Ephesian    letters "    became    a 


'  proverbial  expression  for  cabalistic,  or 
I  magical,  characters.  The  Gospel,  as 
I  preached  by  St.  Paul,  made  great  way 
j  in  Ephesus,  and  a  very  flourishing 
church  rewarded  his  labors.  The 
I  Ephesians,  according  to  the  common 
I  course  of  the  Divine  dealings,  were 
j  attacked  in  the  way  which  their  habits 
!  and  pursuits  marked  out  as  most  pro- 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


449 


niising'.  In  no  place  does  there  seem 
to  have  been  so  great  a  display  of 
supernatural  energy;  as  though  men, 
much  addicted  to  witchcraft,  to  the  at- 
tempting unlawful  intercourse  with  po- 
tent but  invisible  beings,  were  likely 
to  be  most  wrought  upon  by  evidence 
of  intimate  connection  with  spiritual 
agents.  You  read  that  ''  God  w^rought 
special  miracles  by  the  hands  of  Paul, 
so  that  from  his  body  were  brought 
unto  the  sick  handkerchiefs,  or  aprons, 
and  the  diseases  departed  from  them, 
and  the  evil  spirits  went  out  of  them." 

It  must  have  been  very  striking  to 
the  Ephesian  magicians,  to  find  that 
St.  Paul  could  thus  apparently  commu- 
nicate a  sort  of  magical  virtue  to  arti- 
cles of  dress:  they  were  perhaps  more 
likely  than  men  who  had  never  med- 
dled with  occult  arts,  to  feel  the  force 
of  such  an  evidence  of  superhuman 
might.  In  short,  the  Ephesians,  be- 
cause accustomed  to  produce  strange 
results  by  some  species  or  another  of 
witchcraft,  w^ould  naturally  ascribe  mi- 
racles to  a  similar  agency  ;  hence,  the 
miracles,  which  were  to  serve  as  their 
credentials  of  Christianity,  required  to 
be  more  than  commonly  potent,  such 
as  were  not  in  any  degree  imitable, 
whether  through  the  dexterity  of  the 
juggler,  or  the  incantations  of  the  sor- 
cerer. And  it  seems  to  us  one  of  those 
instances,  not  the  less  remarkable  be- 
cause easily  overlooked,  of  the  care- 
fulness with  which  God  adapts  means 
to  an  end,  that,  in  a  citj'^  in  Avhich,  of 
nil  others,  false  miracles  were  likely 
to  abound,  and  improper  arts  made  the 
mind  familiar  u-ith  strange  phenomena, 
the  powers  granted  to  the  preachers 
of  Christianity  were  of  extraordinary 
extent,  sufficing  to  place  an  apostle  at 
an  immeasurable  distance  from  the 
most  consummate  magician. 

It  is,  moreover,  evident  that  the  hold 
gained  on  the  Ephesians  was  gained 
by  and  through  the  demonstration  of 
the  superiority  of  St.  Paul's  power  to 
that  possessed  by  any  dealer  in  unlaw- 
ful arts.  In  the  verses  which  immedi- 
atelj'^  precede  our  text,  you  have  the 
account  of  a  singular  occurrence,  which 
appears  to  have  had  much  to  do  with 
the  obtaining  for  Christianity  a  firm 
looting  in  Ephesus.  You  read  that 
certain  Jews,  who  travelled  the  coun- 
try as  exorcists,  persons,  that  is,  who 


professed   to  cast  out  the  evil  spirits 
which  had  then  frequent  possession  of 
men's  bodies,  took  upon  them  to  em- 
ploy the   name    of  the   Lord   Jesus'  iu 
their  endeavors  to  eject  demons,  hav- 
ing observed  with  what  success  it  was 
used  by  St.  Paul.  Amongst  others  who 
made  the  v/ickedand  insolent  attempt, 
for  such  it  surely  was,  to  endeavor  to 
weave  a  spell  from  a  name  which  they 
openly  blasphemed,  were  the  "  seven 
sons  of  one  Sceva,  a  Jew."    As  ihougli 
i  they  thought  that  numbers  would  give 
i  force  to  the  adjuration,  these  seven  ap- 
!  pear  to  have  gone  together  to  a  man 
!  demoniacally   possessed,   and  to  have 
addressed  the  foul  spirit  in  the  name 
of  Jesus  Christ.    The  spirit,  however, 
j  answered,  "Jesus  I  know,  and  Paul  1 
\  know  5  but  who  are  ye  1"  Thus  the  de- 
{  mon   professed  himself  ready  to   sub- 
!  mit  to   Jesus,  or  Paul,  his  accredited 
j  messenger  ;  but  he  knew  of  no  right 
I  which  these   exorcists  had  to  dispos- 
I  sess  him  by  the  name  whose  potency 
i  he  acknowledged.    He  was  iiot,  how- 
I  ever,  content  with  thus  refusing  to  be 
'exorcised  :  he  took  a  signal  revenge, 
causing  the  man,  in  whom  he  dwelt, 
to  put  forth  supernatural  strength,  so 
that  he  leaped   upon  the   seven   men, 
and  overcame   them,  and  forced  them 
to  flee  "  out  of  the  house  naked  and 
wounded." 

This  was  quickly  noised  abroad,  and 
produced,  we  are  told,  great  effects 
among  both  the  .Tews  and  Greeks  who 
were  dwelling  at  Ephesus;  "and  fear  fell 
on  them  all,  and  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  was  magnified."  To  men  accus- 
tomed to  make  use  of  charms  and  in- 
cantations, the  evidence  thus  given  of 
the  sacrcdness  of  Christ's  name,  and  of 
the  peril  of  employing  it  to  any  but 
those  who  believed  in  his  mission, 
would  naturally  be  very  convincing: 
it  was  just  the  sort  of  evidence  which 
their  habits  made  them  most  capable  of 
appreciating,  and  by  which  therefore 
they  were  most  likely  to  be  overcome. 
Accordingly,  it  seems  at  once  to  have 
taught  numbers  the  necessity  of  sub- 
mitting to  Christ,  and  renouncing  those 
arts  of  magic  and  sorcery,  through 
which  they  had  perhaps  endeavored 
to  hold  intercourse  -with  spirits.  They 
acted  with  great  promptness  on  the 
conviction  :  they  laid  open  all  the  mys- 
teries of  their  witchcraft,  they  "came, 
57 


450 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


and  confessed,  and  showed  their  deeds;" 
and  then,  (ircd  with  a  holy  indignation 
at  the  nefarious  practices  in  which  they 
had  long  indulged,  and  abhorring  the 
very  books  which  contained  the  rules 
and  secrets  of  their  arts,  they  gather- 
ed together  the  curious  and  costly  vol- 
umes, and  publicly  burned  them  ;  thus 
evidencing  their  sincerity  by  no  trifling 
sacrifice,  for  when  they  counted  the 
price  of  these  books,  "  they  found  it 
fifty  thousand  pieces  of  silver." 

Now  there  are  certain  points  of  view, 
under  which  if  this  conduct  of  the 
Ephesians  be  surveyed,  it  will  appear 
singularly  deserving  of  being  both  ad- 
mired and  imitated.  We  believe  of  this 
incident  of  the  burning  of  the  magical 
books,  as  of  the  rest  of  scriptural  his- 
tory, that  it  has  been  "  written  for  our 
admonition,"  and  ought  not  to  be  pass- 
ed over  with  a  mere  cursory  notice. 
We  shall  accordingly  proceed  to  the 
endeavoring  to  extract  from  it  such 
lessons  as  there  shall  seem  ground  for 
supposing  it  intended  to  furnish. 

It  is  unneciessary  for  us  to  inquire 
what  those  arts  may  have  been,  in  which 
the  Ephesians  are  said  to  have  greatly 
excelled.  There  seems  no  reason  for 
doubting,  that,  as  we  have  stated  al- 
ready, they  were  of  the  nature  of  ma- 
gic, sorcery,  or  witchcraft ;  though  we 
cannot  profess  accurately  to  define  what 
such  terms  might  import.  The  Ephe- 
sians, as  some  in  all  ages  have  done, 
probably  laid  claim  to  intercourse  with 
invisible  beings,  and  professed  to  de- 
rive from  that  intercourse  acquaintance 
with,  and  power  over,  future  events. 
And  though  the  very  name  of  witch- 
craft be  now  held  in  contempt,  and  the 
supposition  of  communion  with  evil 
spirits  scouted  as  a  fable  of  what  are 
called  the  dark  ages,  we  own  that  we 
have  difficulty  in  believing,  that  all 
which  has  passed  by  the  names  of  ma- 
gic and  sorcery  may  be  resolved  into 
sleight  of  hand,  deception,  and  trick. 
The  visible  world  and  the  invisible  are 
in  very  close  contact :  there  is  indeed 
a  veil  on  our  eyes,  preventing  our  gaz- 
ing on  spiritual  beings  and  things  ;  but 
we  doubt  not  that  whatsoever  passes 
upon  earth  is  open  to  the  view  of  high- 
er and  immaterial  creatures.  And  as 
we  are  sure  that  a  man  of  piety  and 
prayer  enlists  good  angels  on  his  side, 
and  engages  them  to  perform  tov\'ards 


him.  the  ministrations  of  kindness,  we 
know  not  why  there  cannot  be  such  a 
thing  as  a  man,  whose  wickedness  has 
caused  his  being  abandoned  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  and  who,  in  this  his  de- 
sertion, has  thrown  open  to  evil  angels 
the  channbers  of  his  soul,  and  made 
himself  so  completely  their  instrument, 
that  they  may  use  him  in  the  uttering 
or  working  strange  things,  which  shall 
have  all  the  air  of  prophecy  or  miracle. 
But  whatever  your  opinion  be  as  to 
the  precise  nature  of  sorcery,  and  the 
degree  to  which  it  might  be  carried, 
we  may  be  sure  that  the  books,  which 
the  Ephesian  converts  so  resolutely 
burnt,  contained  the  mysteries  of  the 
art,  the  rules  by  whose  study  and  ap- 
plication men  were  to  acquire  what,  at 
least,  might  resemble  superhuman  pow- 
er and  skill.  And  what  we  have  first  to 
remark  on  the  burning  of  these  books, 
is,  that  it  manifested  great  detesta- 
tion of  their  contents,  though  hitherto 
the  Ephesians  had  specially  delighted 
in  reading  and  applying  them.  There 
could  have  been  no  stronger  evidence 
of  the  reality  of  their  conversion,  than 
was  given  by  their  committing  these 
v.olumesto  the  flames.  They  thus  show- 
ed a  thorough  consciousness  of  the  un- 
lawfulness of  the  arts  of  which  the 
books  treated,  and  an  abhorrence  of 
the  practices  therein  described.  And 
it  is  always  a  great  sign  of  the  genu- 
ineness, the  sincerity,  of  religion,  when 
a  rnan  proves  that  the  things;  in  which 
he  once  took  delight,  are  regarded  by 
him  with  hatred  and  aversion.  It  is 
given  as  the  characteristic  of  vital 
Christianity,  that  he,  in  whom  it  dwells, 
has  become  "  a  new  creature."  There 
is  nothing  which  may  take  the  place  of 
this  characteristic,  or  make  up  for  its 
want.  It  matters  not  whether  a  man 
can  describe  the  process  of  his  conver- 
sion, or  fix  its  exact  date  :  he  may  have 
been  truly  converted,  and  yet  be  igno- 
rant how  and  when  it  was  done.  But 
it  is  quite  indispensable  that  there 
should  be  evidences  of  moral  renewal : 
light  and  darkness  are  not  more  op- 
posed than  the  slate  of  the  converletl 
and  that  of  the  unconverted  ;  and 
though  I  maj'not  know  the  moment  or 
manner  of  my  being  translated  from  the 
one  to  the  other,  there  is  more  than 
room  for  doubting  whether  I  can  have 
been  translated  at  all,  if  no  change  have 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


451 


perceptibly  passed   on  my  hopes,  de- 
sires, and  fears.    Regenerated  in  bap- 
tism, I  }naji  indeed  have  been  "  daily 
renewed,"*  and  never,  therefore,  have 
needed  conversion.    But  if  I  have  ever 
lived  a  worldly  life,  and  then  hearken- 
ed to  the  dictates  of  religion,  the  tran- 
sition may  have  been  silently  and  im- 
perceptibly eflected,  but  must  be  de- 
monstrable from  strong  contrasts  be- 
tween what  I  am  and  what  I  once  was. 
We  have   always   therefore   to   re- 
quire of  men,  who,  once  worldly,  now 
think  themselves  converted,  that  they 
rest  content  with  no  evidence  but  that 
of  a  great  moral  change  ;  not  satisfied, 
because  there  may  have  been   some- 
thing of  external  reform,  but  searching 
for  proof  of  such  alteration  in  charac- 
ter,  that  they  hate  what  they  loved, 
and    love    what    they  hated.     Such  a 
proof  the  Ephesians  gave,  when  they 
burnt  their  costly  treatises  on  liiagic. 
They  liad  been   specially  addicted   to 
magic :    by   and    through   magic    they 
had  specially  offended  God,  and  peril- 
ed their  souls :   so  soon,  therefore,  as 
Christianity  had  won  its  way  to  their 
hearts,  it  was  against  magic  that  they 
showed  a  holy  indignation  ;  it  was  ma- 
gic which  they  proved  themselves  re- 
solved to  abandon.    The  moral  change 
was  thus  satisfactorily  evidenced  ;  the 
thing  which  had  been  most  delighted 
in  was  the  thing  most  abhorred  ;  and 
no  proof  could  be  stronger,  that  the 
men  were  new  creatures  in  Christ. 

We  ask  the  like  proof  from  those  of 
you  who  suppose  themselves  "  renew- 
ed in  the  spirit  of  their  mind."  Have 
you  burnt  your  books  on  magic  1  We 
do  not  accuse  you  of  having,  like  the 
Ephesians^  practised  the  arts  of  the 
sorcerer  ;  ye  have  not  woven  spells, 
nor  muttered  incantations.  Ye  have 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  myste- 
ries of  enchantment,  or  with  the  foul 
rites  of  necromancy,  dazzling  the  liv- 
ing or  disturbing  the  dead.  But,  never- 
theless, ye  have  been  in  communion 
with  "  the  god  of  this  world,"  "  the 
prince  of  the  power  of  the  air:"  ye 
have  submitted  to  his  illusions,  and 
surrendered  yourselves  to  his  service. 
If,  in  some  peculiar  sense,  the  sorcerer 
or  the  magician  give  himself  up  to  the 
devil,  and  make  himself  his  instrument, 

*  Collect  for  Cluistmas-dav- 


there  is  a  broader  sense  in  which  every 
one  of  us  by  nature  holds  intercourse 
with  fallen  angels,  and  learns  from 
them  how  to  put  deceits  on  others 
and  himself.  Yea,  and  we  have  our 
books  upon  magic.  What  are  half  the 
volumes  with  which  the  land  is  delug- 
ed, but  volumes  which  can  teach  no- 
thing but  how  to  serve  the  devil  bet- 
ter 1  How  numerous  the  works  of  an 
infidel  tendency.^  How  yet  more  nu- 
merous those  of  an  immoral!  What  a 
shoal  of  poems  and  tales,  which,  though 
not  justly  falling  under  either  of  these 
descriptions,  can  but  emasculate  the 
mind  of  the  reader,  filling  it  with  fan- 
cies and  follies,  and  unfitting  it  (or 
high  thought  and  solemn  investigation. 
What  treatises  on  the  acquisition  of 
weakh,  as  though  money  were  the  one 
thing  needful ;  what  histories  of  the 
ambitious  and  daring,  as  though  human 
honor  deserved  our  chief  aspirations; 
what  pictures  of  pleasure,  as  though 
earthly  gratifications  could  satisfy  our 
longings. 

And  if  we  have  our  books  upon  ma- 
gic, have  we  not  also  the  scenes  and 
places  where  fallen  spirits  may  be 
declared  the  presiding  deities  1 — the 
crowded  mart,  w^here  mammon  is  al- 
most literally  worshipped;  the  gorgeous 
theatre,  where  the  very  air  is  that  of  vo- 
luptuousness; the  more  secret  haunts 
of  licentiousness  ;  the  mirthful  gather- 
ings, where  the  great  object  is  to  for- 
get God  ;  the  philosophical,  where  the 
chief  endeavor  is  to  extol  man.  Indeed 
it  must  not  be  said  that  there  is  nothing 
of  witchcraft  going  on  around  us.  The 
question  of  the  Apostle  to  the  Galati- 
ans  has  lost  none  of  its  force:  ''  Who 
hath  bewitched  you,  that  ye  should  not 
obey  the  truth  1""  Nay,  not  only  may 
every  unconverted  man  be  declared,  in 
some  great  sense,  under  the  influence 
of  sorcery:  he  may  be  said  to  practise 
sorcery;  for  he  is  instrumental,  whe- 
ther by  his  precept  or  his  example, 
to  the  seducing  others  into  sin,  and 
confirming  their  attachment  to  the 
world. 

We  may,  then,  almost  literally  bring 
hifn,  if  he  think  himself  converted,  to 
the  test  furnished  by  the  conflagration 
of  which  we  read  in  our  text.  We  ask 
him  whether  he  feels,  and  manifests, 
a  righteous  indignation  against  those 
practices   and   pursuits  which   at  one 


452 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


time  engrossed  his  affections  1  What- 
ever may  have  been  his  peculiar  and 
besetting  sin,  is  it  that  sin  against 
which  he  specially  guards'!  is  it  that 
sin  which  he  visits  with  the  most  tho- 
rough hatred  1  It  is  comparatively  no- 
thing that  he  is  vigilant  and  wrathful 
against  other  sins — is  he  vigilant  and 
wrathful  against  the  favorite  sinl  The 
Ephesians  directed  their  indignation 
against  magic ;  and  it  was  magic  to 
Avhich  the  Ephesians  had  been  special- 
ly prone'.  Have  we  proceeded  on  the 
same  principle  1  One  man  is  specially 
acted  on  by  the  love  of  wealth:  is  it 
the  love  of  wealth  against  which  reli- 
gion has  made  him  specially  earnest '? 
Another  is  more  disposed  to  the  pursuit 
of  honor:  is  it  ambition  against  which 
religion  has  most  roused  his  zeal  1  A 
third  is  most  easily  overcome  by  his 
bodily  appetites  :  is  it  his  grand  effort, 
as  instructed  by  Christianity,  to  cruci- 
fy "  the  flesh,  with  the  affections  and 
lusts?"  We  can  take  no  lesser  proof 
of  sincerity:  the  fire  must  be  made 
with  the  books  of  our  own  particular 
art,  otherwise  we  may  burn  library  up- 
on library,  and  yet  furnish  no  evidence 
of  conversion. 

And  in  this  respect,  even  had  we 
no  other  to  allege,  the  conduct  of  the 
Ephesians  reads  a  great  lesson  to  the 
men  of  every  age.  They  publicly  show- 
ed that  they  hated  and  abjured  the  sin 
which  they  were  publicly  known  to 
have  most  loved  and  practised.  It  was 
the  vehement  protest  of  the  covetous 
man  against  covetousness ;  of  the  li- 
centious against  licentiousness  ;  of  the 
anibitious  against  ambition.  It  was  not 
the  protest  of  the  covetous  against  li- 
centiousness;  nor  of  the  licentious 
against  ambition.  There  is  ordinarily 
little  difficulty  in  gaining  such  a  pro- 
test as  that.  But  it  was  the  protest  of 
the  awakened  sinner  against  his  own 
chosen  form  of  sin  ;  and  thousands  are 
ready  to  protest  against  all  but  their 
own,  to  give  up  any  other,  on  the  sin- 
gle condition  of  keeping  what  they 
love  best.  Therefore,  judge  ye  your- 
selves, we  again  say,  by  your  likeness 
to  the  Ephesians.  Ye  have  tampered, 
in  one  sense,  like  them,  with  sorcery. 
Ye  have  gone  down  to  the  cave  of  the 
enchantress,  and  ye  have  drunk  of  that 
cup  by  which  the  tempter  hopes  to 
steal  away  men's  faculties.    Ye  have 


had  your  books  in  which  ye  have  studi- 
ed magic — whether  the  magic  by  which 
the  metal  and  the  jewel  may.be  made  to 
flow  into  your  coflers;  or  that  by  which 
yei  may  wreath  the  brow  with  laurel; 
or  that  by  which  ye  may  fascinate  the 
senses,  and  make  life  one  round  of  lux- 
urious enjoyment.  But  ye  now  think 
that  religion  has  hold  upon  you,  and 
that  ye  are  no  longer  what  ye  were. 
And  heartily  do  we  trust  that  you  are 
right  in  your  opinion,  and  that  there  is 
no  self-deceit.  But  this  we  must  tell 
you — if  ye  be,  indeed,  converted,  the 
evidence  of  the  conversion  will  be  in 
the  manifested  abhorrence,  not  only 
generally  of  sin,  but  especially  of  that 
sin  in  which  you  most  indulged — oh^ 
you  will  virtually  do  what  was  done 
by  the  Ephesians,  who,  because  they 
had -peculiarly  provoked  God  b.y  the 
practising  curious  arts,  were  no  soon- 
er led  !o  a  true  belief  in  Christ,  than 
they  "brought  their  books  together,* 
and  burned  them  before  all  men." 

It  would,  however,  be  inferring  com- 
paratively very  little  from  this  action 
of  the  Ephesians,  were  we  to  regard  it 
only  as  expressing  their  detestation  of 
their  favorite  sin.  We  may  justly  sup- 
pose that  they  had  their  safety  in  view, 
when  throwing  into  the  flames  the  trea- 
tises on  magic.  They  might  have  pub- 
licly renounced  the  arts  which  they 
had  been  accustomed  to  practise,  with- 
out burning  the  rare  volumes  which 
had  initiated  them  into  their  mysteries. 
They  might  have  shut  up  these  vol- 
umes, retaining  them  as  mere  litera- 
ry curiosities,  though  resolving  never 
again  to  refer  to  them  for  instruction 
in  witchcraft.  But  there  would  have 
been  a  want  of  christian  prudence  in 
this;  this  would  have  kept  them  con- 
tinually exposed  to  temptation  ;  and  it 
was  in  their  not  doing  this,  that  we 
count  them  greatly  worthy  of  being  ad- 
mired and  imitated.  It  is  very  clear 
that,  had  they  not  destroyed  their  trea- 
tises on  magic,  there  would  always 
have  been  a  risk  of  their  returning  to 
their  study:  it  was  not  unlikely  that, 
so  soon  as  the  first  heat  of  religion  had 
passed,  they  would  again  have  taken 
up  the  curious  books,  and  read  them 
for  recreation,  if  not  for  instruction. 
We  do  not  necessarily  suppose  that 
they  would  have  turned  to  them  with 
any  design  of  resuming  unlawful  prac- 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


453 


tices  j  but  they  might  have  perused 
them  al  a  singuhi.r  species  of  literature, 
from  which  entertainment  might  be 
drawn,  without  any  surrender  of  the 
persuasion  that  tiiey  taught  only  what 
was  foul  and  unhallowed. 

Vet  any  such  intention  of  making  any 
use  whatever  of  the  books  would  have 
shown  a  sort  of  lurking  affection  for 
what  they  contained,  and  could  not,  at 
least,  have  been  carried  into  effect 
without  risk  of  the  being  seduced  back 
into  the  practice  of  sorcery.  The  Ephe- 
sians,  therefore,  wisely  determined  to 
put  themselves  out  of  the  way  of  temp- 
tation ;  and  this,  you  observe,  they  ef- 
fectually did  by  burning  their  books ; 
for,  in  all  probability,  those  books  were 
not  to  be  replaced,  even  had  they  wish- 
ed for  tliem  again  ;  there  was  then  no 
printing-press,'  that  mighty  engine  for 
multiplying  evil  as  well  as  good.  .Thus 
they  cut  themselves  otT,  in  a  very  high 
degree,  from  the  possibility  of  return- 
ing to  their  divinations  and  enchant- 
ments: they  showed  a  wholesome  dis- 
trust of  their  own  strength  and  resolu- 
tion, and  proved  that,  with  real  chris- 
tian prudence,  they  thought  it  better 
to  shun  than  to  brave  moral  peril. 

And  herein  did  they  become  a  great 
example  to  ourselves.  We  have  to  re- 
quire of  those  of  you  who  have  broken 
away  from  the  enchantments  and  fas- 
cinations of  the  world,  that  they  show 
a  like  zeal  in  avoiding  the  scenes  and 
occasions  of  temptation.  It  is  not  chris- 
tian courage,  it  is  nothing  better  than 
presumption,  when  a  man  unnecessa- 
rily exposes  himself  to  spiritual  dan- 
ger, as  though  counting  himself  proof 
against  assault,  and  not  again  to  be 
entangled  in  things  once  abandoned. 
When  we  are  brought  into  temptation, 
by  walking  the  clear  path  of  duty,  we 
have  the  best  reason  to  expect  such 
assistance  from  above  as  shall  enable 
us  to  hold  fast  our  integrity.  But  if  we 
be  not  in  the  clear  path  of  duty  when 
we  meet  the  temptation;  if  it  be  through 
our  own  choice  or  hardihood  that  our 
constancy  is  endangered  ;  there  is  great 
probability  that  God  will  suffer  us  to 
fall,  if  only  to  teach  us  our  feebleness, 
and  our  need  of  stronger  caution  for 
the  future.  God  permitted  not  the  fire 
to  singe  a  hair  of  the  heads  of  the  three 
Jewish  youths,  who  preferred  the  be- 
ing cast  into  a  furnace  to  the  worship- 


ping an  idol ;  but  had  they  presump- 
tuously thrown  themselves  into  the 
flames,  in  place  of  having  been  enve- 
loped in  them  for  the  maintenance  of 
truth,  do  you  think  that  the  like  mira- 
cle would  have  been  wrought  on  their 
behalf?  And  similarly  with  the  Ephe- 
sians,  it  might  happen  to  them,  that 
books  on  magic  would  fall  in  their  way, 
and  that  they  would  be  tempted  to  pe- 
ruse their  unhallowed  pages.  But  they 
would  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
causing  this  temptation,  and  might, 
therefore,  expect  to  be  strengthened 
to  withstand  it.  But  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  had  kept  themselves  in  the 
way  of  temptation  by  preserving  the 
treatises,  they  would  have  had  only 
themselves  to  blame,  if,  as  in  all  like- 
lihood it  would  have  happened,  they 
had  been  drawn  back  to  the  study,  and 
perhaps  even  the  practice,  of  unlaw- 
ful arts. 

Here,  therefore,  we  have  again  to  ply 
the  professing  christians  amongst  you 
with  the  question,  have  ye  burnt  your 
books  on  magicl  Ye  will  readily  un- 
derstand the  precise  force  of  the  ques- 
tion, as  addressed  to  yourselves,  and 
how  it  must  be  modified  to  meet  a  dif- 
ference in  circumstances.  As  we  be- 
fore said,  ye  have  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  arts  of  the  sorcerer,  in  the 
sense  in  which  those  arts  were  prac- 
tised by  the  Ephesians.  But  neverthe- 
less ye  have  lived  in  a  very  atmosphere 
of  witchery  ;  the  spell  has  been  woven 
over  you  and  around  you  ;  the  gorge- 
ous phantoms,  the  brilliant  shadows, 
with  which  evil  spirits  people  the  world, 
"  beguiling  unstable  souls,"  these  once 
dazzled  and  allured  you,  though  now 
the  illi^^ion  is  broken,  and  ye  have  re- 
solved to  walk  henceforwards  by  the 
light  of  God's  word.  And  what  have 
ye  done  in  regard  of  sources  and  occa- 
sions of  temptation  l  upon  what  prin- 
ciple have  you  acted  with  respect  to 
books,  and  scenes,  and  practices,  which 
experience  has  identified  with  the  ar- 
tifices of  that  great  deceiver,  who  once 
had  you  altogether  in  his  power"?  It 
may  be  that  one  of  you  was  half  in- 
clined to  infidelity:  he  read  sceptical 
books,  whose  assertions  he  could  not 
disprove,  and  Avhose  sophistries  he 
could  not  unravel — he  was  magician 
enough  to  cOnjure  up  doubts,  but  want- 
ed the  wand  o[  truth  wherewith  to  dis- 


454. 


THE    BURKING    OF    THE    MAfilCAL    BOOKS. 


perse  them.  Christianity,  however,  has 
been  presented  to  him  with  that  over- 
coming evidence  which  it  wears,  when 
preached  with  ''  demonstration  of  the 
kjpirit  and  of  power ;"  and  he  has  put 
away  all  unbelief,  and  cordially  admit- 
ted the  Gospel  as  a  message  from  God. 
But  what  has  he  done  with  the  magi- 
cal books,  with  the  treatises  which  en- 
tangled him  in  the  maze  of  infidelityl 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  preserving, 
yea,  as  reading  a  book  from  a  literary 
motive,  when  it  is  held  in  abhorrence 
on  every  other  account.  The  book  may 
be  very  rare,  or  very  eloquent ;  it  may 
be  valuable*  for  its  style,  or  for  infor- 
mation which  it  contains,  though  un- 
happily fraught  with  Deistical  princi- 
ples. And  the  man,  on  whom  the  book 
once  acted  like  an  initiation  into  sor- 
cery, forcing  him  into  a  region  of  wild 
cloud  and  shadow,  will,  perhaps,  when 
he  has  shaken  off  scepticism,  study  the 
book  afresh,  because  relishing  its  beau- 
ty of  diction,  or  wishing  to  show  him- 
self proof  against  its  falsehoods.  Ah! 
he  had  better  have  imitated  the  Ephe- 
sians:  he  is  fearfully  and  unnecessari- 
ly endangering  his  faith  :  he  should  ra- 
ther have  burnt  the  book  on  magic  ;  he 
should  have  done,  we  mean,  his  best 
to  put,  or  to  keep,  the  dangerous  vol- 
ume out  of  reach. 

It  may  be  that  another  of  you  has 
lived  much  in  vice,  submitting  himself 
to  the  tyranny  of  his  passions,  and 
walking  within  the  circles  of  what  is 
falsely  called  pleasure.  And  in  this  his 
sensual  career  he  has,  perhaps,  been 
often  excited  to  fresh  indulgence  by 
the  licentious  writings  of  poets,  men 
who  have  prostituted  all  the  graces  of 
song  to  the  service  of  impuritj^.  It  is 
one  of  the  foulest  and  most  melancho- 
ly of  facts,  that  writers  of  extraordi- 
nary genius,  not  to  be  surpassed  in  the 
play  of  imagination  and  the  power  of 
lan^^uage,  have  desecrated  their  talents 
to  the  adorning  debauchery,  to  the 
throwing  a  grace  and  a  beauty  over 
the  abominations  of  vice.  And  it  must 
be  a  fatal  and  a  standing  reproach  on 
our  literature,  that  it  contains  volumes 
which  are  almost  unrivalled  in  the  mere 
article  of  composition,  rich  in  the 
splendor  of  diction,  the  brilliancy  of 
metaphor,  and  the  pathos  of  descrip- 
tion, but  which  put  all  modesty  to  the 
blush,  and  but  few  fragments  of  which 


can  we  venture  to  place  in  the  hands 
of  our  children.  These  deserve  to  be 
called  the  treatises  on  magic,  when  it 
is  the  wand  of  pleasure  which  evil 
spirits  wave.  It  is  beyond  calculation 
what  an  amount  of  viciousness  is  fos- 
tered in  a  land,  through  the  circulation 
of  loose,  but  beautiful,  poetry.  \Vc 
speak  not  of  publications  which  can 
be  only  sold  in  secret,  and  the  venders 
of  which  have  only  to  become  known 
to  be  punished  by  law.  We  speak  of 
those  to  which  no  such  open  stigma 
is  attached,  but  which  are,  neverthe- 
less, as  instrumental  to  the  fanning  base 
passions,  and  encouraging  licentious- 
ness, as  the  more  indecent  and  scanda- 
lous, which  draw  upon  themselves  ju- 
dicial condemnation.  There  is  many  a 
young  person  who  would  shrink  from 
gross  writings  with  a  sort  of  instinct- 
ive abhorrence,  but  who  is  not  proof 
against  the  seductions  of  voluptuous 
poetry,  and  to  whom,  therefore,  the 
elegant  author,  who  can  clothe  immo- 
rality in  a  fascinating  dress,  will  serve 
as  a  sort  erf  High  Priest  of  vice,  though 
he  might  have  been  disgusted  by  any 
of  its  less  polished  ministers. 

But  our  question  now  is,  what  does 
the  sensualist  do  with  th'e  magical 
books,  when  convinced,  by  the  urgen- 
cy of  Christianity,  of  the  duty  of  liv- 
ing "  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly 
in  the  world  V  Is  there  not  much,  even 
amongst  those  who  profess  an  utter 
abhorrence  of  licentiousness,  of  retain- 
ing, and  reading,  for  the  sake  of  their 
exquisite  poetry,  works  confessedly  im- 
moral in  their  tendency'?  Are  not  the 
graces  of  composition  accepted  in  apo- 
logy for  the  deficiencies  in  principle  1 
Does  not  many  a  man  tolerate,  yea, 
even  enjoy,  books  which,  in  a  religious 
point  of  view,  he  utterly  repudiates, 
because  they  contain  passages  of  un- 
exampled sublimity,  or  flash  through- 
out with  the  coruscations  of  genius'? 
We  have  only  to  say  upon  this,  that 
the  Ephesians  acted  more  nobly,  and 
more  wisely.  The  man,  who  has  once 
been  the  slave  of  his  passions,  and  who 
has  found  those  passions  excited  by 
voluptuous  writings,  ought  never  again 
to  open  the  volumes,  as  though  he 
might  now  gather  the  beauties  of  poe- 
sy without  imbibing  the  sentiments  of 
impurity:  the  volumes  ought  to  be  to 
him,  as  if  the   only  copies  had  been 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


455 


consumed  in  the  flames — the  Ephe- 
sians  should  be  his  pattern,  who  not 
merely  abjured  what  they  had  4earnt 
to-  be  wrong,  but  did  their  utmost  to 
keep  themselves  out  of  reach,  for  the 
future,  of  the  temptations  by  which  they 
had  been  overcome. 

And,  without  confining  ourselves  to 
the  precise  case  of  books,  what  is  your 
course  generally  in  regard  of  occasions 
of  sin,  of  places  and  occupations  which 
you  have  found  detrimental  to  religion] 
Do  you  make  a  point  of  shunning  what 
you  have  discovered  to  be  injurious  1 
or  do  you  venture  on  a  repetition,  in 
the  conlidence  of  being  too  strong  to  be 
again  injured?  The  associates  who  en- 
couraged you  in  sin,  whilst  careless  of 
the  soul — have  you  given  them  up,  now 
that  you  are  anxious  for  the  soul]  or 
do  you  act  on  the  supposition,  that 
there  is  no  further  fear  of  your  being 
carried  av/ay  by  the  force  of  compani- 
onship 1  You  found  that  worldly  amuse- 
ments— the  theatre,  with  its  licentious 
accompaniments;  the  masquerade  and 
the  dance,  with  their  frivolity  at  least, 
if  not  their  sinfulness;  the  card-table, 
with  its  trial  of  temper,  even  where  it 
did  not  excite  the  spirit  of  gambling — 
you  found  that  these  warred  against 
the  soul,  whilst  you  were  yet  uncon- 
verted ;  but  what  have  you  done  as  a 
proof  and  result  of  conversion  ]  Have 
you  striven,  to  the  best  of  your  power, 
to  place  barriers  betweeif  yourselves 
and  these  amusements  1  or  are  you  still 
partaking  of  them,  only  in  less  mea- 
sure, and  with  a  diminished  affection  % 

Or,  once  more,  if  it  were  for  wealth 
that  you  had  dealings  with  the  sorcer- 
er, dedicating  every  moment  and  ener- 
gy to  the  arts  by  which  gold  may  be 
multiplied,  how  have  you  acted  since 
the  grace  of  God,  as  you  think,  brought 
you  to  love  and  seek  everlasting  trea- 
sures ?  Have  you  put  from  you  what 
was  too  engrossing  in  occupation  1  or 
are  you  still  as  engaged  as  ever  in  the 
witchcraft  of  money-making  ? 

You  can  hardly  fail  to  understand 
the  drift  of  these  questions.  The  thing 
which  we  wish  impressed  upon  you 
is,  that,  whatever  may  have  been  your 
dominant  passion  before  conversion, 
your  great  effort,  in  proof  of  conver- 
sion, should  be  the  cutting  yourselves 
off  from  temptations  to  the  gratifying 
that    passion.    We  care  not  what  en- 


chantment you  most  practised,  or  by 
what  you  were  most  beguiled  ;  your 
endeavor  should  be,  to  keep  yourselves 
as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  sphere 
of  that  enchantfnent  ;  not  exposing 
yourselves  to  its  influence,  as  though 
its  power  were  gone,  but  placing  your- 
selves beyond  its  reach,  as  though  your 
weakness  remained.  And  if  ever  we 
see  a  man,  who  has  been  delivered 
from  the  meshes  of  infidelity,  still  fond 
of  studying  sceptical  writings  ;  or  ano- 
ther, who  has  been  won  from  licentious- 
ness, adventuring  into  the  haunts  of 
dissipation  ;  or  a  third,  whose  idol  was 
gold,  taking  no  pains  to  withdraw  from 
the  atmosphere  of  covetousness ;  or  a 
fourth,  whom  evil  companions  had  se- 
duced, braving  the  charm  of  old  asso- 
ciation— oh,  we  cannot  but  greatly  fear 
for  such  a  man,  that  his  contempt  of 
danger  will  make  him  its  victim  ;  that, 
by  not  detaching  himself  at  once  from 
occasions  and  scenes  of  temptation,  he 
has  but  insured  relapses  and  backslid- 
ings :  we  can  but  desire  that  he  had 
taken  the  Ephesians  as  his  model,  who 
no  sooner  renounced  magic,  than,  as 
though  fearful  of  being  again  entangled 
in  its  study,  and  distrusting  themselves 
whilst  they  had  access  to  its  rules, 
"  brought  their  books  together,  and 
burned  them  before  all  men." 

But  there  is  yet  another  point  of 
view  under  which. we  may  survey  the 
conduct  of  the  Ephesians,  and  find  in 
it  a  test  of  the  genuineness  of  conver- 
sion. We  have  spoken  of  the  burning 
of  the  magical  books  as  proviiig  de- 
testation of  a  favorite  sin,  and  earnest- 
ness in  avoiding  the  being  again  tempt- 
ed to  its  commission.  But  we  may  al- 
low thi^t  other  ways  might  have  been 
found  in  which  to  express  abhorrence 
of  sorcery;  and  that,  perhaps,  some 
of  the  Ephesians  might  have  retained 
the  books  in  their  possession,  with- 
out much  risk  of  resuming  the  unlaw- 
ful studies.  Yet  if  equal  detestation 
might  have  been  otherwise  shown,  and 
if  no  personal  risk  whatsoever  had  been 
run,  we  should  still  have  to  applaud, 
and  point  out  for  imitation,  that  action 
of  the  Ephesians  which  stands  record- 
ed in  our  text.  So  long  as  the  b  o  cs 
were  preserved,  there  was  of  course 
no  security  against  their  falling  into 
the  hands  of  unstable  persons,  who 
would  be  tempted  by  them  to  the  en- 


456 


THE    BURNING    OF    THE    MAGICAL    COOKS. 


gaging  in  the  trade  of  the  magician. 
But  by  actually  destroying  the  books, 
the  most  effectual  means  were  taken 
to  prevent  the  spread  of^the  study  of 
sorcery ;  for,  as  we  have  already  re- 
marked, there  was  then  no  printing- 
press  to  multiply  indefinitely  the  co- 
pies of  a  work.  The  books  must  have 
been  manuscripts,  produced  with  great 
care,  and  procured  at  large  cost.  In 
our  own  day,  indeed,  very  little  would 
in  most  cases  be  gained  by  the  burn- 
ing our  copy  of  an  improper  book. 
We  should  not  thereby  necessarily  do 
much,  if  any  thing,  towards  preventing 
the  work  from  finding  its  waj'^  into  the 
possession  of  others.  But  it  was  very 
different,  as  you  must  all  perceive,  be- 
fore the  invention  of  printing;  and  it 
is  highly  probable  that  the  Christian 
converts  could  have  done  nothing  more 
instrumental  to  the  suppression  of  ma- 
gic in  Ephesus,  than  the  consigning  to 
the  flames  the  books  on  curious  arts 
which  they  respectively  owned.  It  was 
going  far  towards  destroying  the  gram- 
mars and  dictionaries  of  the  cabalistic 
language,  and  thus  leaving  those,  who 
micrht  wish  to  learn  witchcraft,  de- 
prived of  the  common  means  of  ascer- 
taining its  elements.  And  we  suppose, 
accordingly,  that  the  Ephesians  were 
greatly  actuated  by  this  motive :  it 
was  not  enough  for  them,  either  that 
they  had  themselves  abjured  magic,  or 
Avere  not  themselves  likely  to  be  again 
injured  by  the  books  :  they  had  respect 
to  the  welfare  of  others  ;  and  feeling 
that  this  welfare  might  be  endangered 
by  the  magical  volumes,  they  threw 
without  reserve  those  volumes  into  the 
flames,  though  their  price,  when  count- 
ed, was  found  to  be  "fifty  thousand 
pieces  of  silver." 

And  hiere  we  have  again  to  declare 
the  Ephesians  an  example,"  and  to  ply 
you  with  the  question,  Have  yoUj  from 
the  like  motive,  burnt  your  books  on 
magic  1  There  is  no  better  test  of  the 
genuineness  of  conversion,  than  ear- 
nestness in  seeking  the  conversion  of 
others.  It  cannot  be  that  a  man  has 
been  brought  to  a  sense  of  his  sinful- 
ness, of  the  danger  to  which  as  a  sin- 
ner he  is  exposed,  and  of  the  provision 
made  by  Christ  for  his  deliverance, 
and  yet  is  indifferent  to  the  condition 
of  those  who  live  "  without  hope,  and 
without  God  in  the  world."    There  is 


the  widest  possible  separation  between 
vital  Christianity  and  whatsoever  has 
alliance  with  selfishness:  vital  Christi- 
anity is  a  generous,  expansive  thing: 
the  man  of  the  world  may  be  willing 
to  keep  earthly  riches  to  himself;  the 
man  of  God  must  be  anxious  to  com- 
municate heavenly  to  others.  In  spiri- 
tual things,  anxiety  does  not  terminate 
with  the  securing  our  own  safety  :  it  is 
rapidly  transferred  to  others;  and  when 
humbly  confident  of  being  "begotten 
again  to  a  lively  hope,"  we  shall  be 
painfully  solicitous  to  make  those 
around  us  fellow-heirs  of  the  promise. 
One  of  the  strongest  feelings  in  the 
converted  man,  is  that  the  great  things 
done  for  him  by  God  bind  him  to  at- 
tempt great  things  in  return :  as  he 
looks  upon  those  who  still  sit  "  in  dark- 
ness and  the  shadow  of  death,"  the 
light,  Avith  which  he  has  been  visited, 
will  seem  to  him  given  on  purpose  to 
be  diffused. 

The  Ephesians,  as  we  think,  quite 
satisfied  this  test  of  conversion  when 
they  burnt  their  magical  books.  It  was 
the  action  by  which,  as  we  have  shown 
you,  more  was  done  than  could  per- 
haps have  else  been  achieved,  towards 
preventing  others  from  engaging  in 
practices  which  themselves  had  found 
most  pernicious.  So  that  the  flames,  in 
which  they  consumed  their  treatises  on 
witchcraft,  were  the  best  tokens  of  the 
ardency  of  their  love  for  the  souls  of 
their  fellow-men.  Have  you  given  any 
thing  of  a  like  token  1  Where  are  your 
books  upon  magic  1  What  have  you 
done  towards  keeping  others  from  the 
sins  to  whose  commission  you  were 
yourselves  most  addicted?  For  what 
has  been  most  injurious  to  yourselves, 
you  will  naturally  feel  likely  to  be  most 
injurious  to  others,  and  it  will  there- 
fore be  that  against  which  you  will 
most  strive  to  put  others  on  their 
guard.  The  man,  once  tinctured  with 
infidelity,  will  be  zealous  in  suppress- 
ing sceptical  Avritings,  and  diffusing 
their  refutation.  The  man  who  has  liv- 
ed in  licentiousness,  will  be  so  earnest 
in  nothing  as  in  discountenancing  vice 
and  promoting  morality.  The  man  who 
was  injured  by  bad  company,  will  do 
all  in  his  power  to  keep  the  unwary 
from  evil  associations.  The  man  who 
has  experienced  the  hnrtfulness  of  pub- 
lic amusements,  Avill  be  urgent  again.^t 


THE    BURMNG    OF    THE    MAGICAL    BOOKS. 


457 


places  and  diversions  which  he  found 
full  of  peril.  The  man  who  was  likely 
to  have  been  ruined  through  covetous- 
ness,  will  warn  others,  above  all  things, 
against  the  love  of  money.  And  in  these 
or  similar  cases,  the  thing  done  is  pre- 
cisely what  was  done  by  the  Ephesians  : 
the  books  on  magic  are  burnt,  with  the 
distinct  view  of  keeping  others  from 
practising  magic  :  individuals  do  their 
best  to  put  down  or  obstruct  that  partic- 
ular form  of  evil  which  proved  most  en- 
tangling and  detrimental  to  themselves. 
Let  those  of  you  who  think  them- 
selves converted,  try  by  this  test  the 
genuineness  of  their  conversion.  Each 
must  Avell  know  the  sin  to  which  he 
Avas  most  inclined,  and  by  which  his 
salvation  was  most  endangered;  is  he, 
then,  all  anxiety  to  keep  others  from 
that  sin,  and  to  remove  from  them 
temptations  to  its  commission?  The 
converted  man  is  not  only  desirous  to 
prevent  sin  in  general ;  he  is  specially 
desirous  to  prevent  that  sin  which  was 
once  his  besetting  sin;  to  guard  men 
against  it,  and  to  cut  off  its  occasions. 
This  is  what  we  call  burning  the  books 
on  magic — the  acting  with  the  set  de- 
sign of  withholding  others  from  what 
has  been  peculiarly  hurtful  to  ourselves. 
And  if  the  man  who  was  injured  by 
sceptical  writings  manifest  no  special 
zeal  against  infidelity  ;  or  if  he,  who 
was  in  bondage  to  the  lusts  of  the  flesh, 
be  not  foremost  in  opposing  licentious- 
ness; or  if  another,  who  had  almost 
shipwrecked  himself  for  eternity  in  the 
theatre,  or  at  the  gaming-table,  be  not 
energetic  in  withdrawinij  others  from 
haunts  of  dissipation  ;  or  generally,  if 
an  individual,  who  was  all  but  lost 
through  living  in  a  certain  sin,  take  no 
earnest  measures  for  preventing  those 
around  him  from  committing  that  sin  ; 
oh,  we  are  bound  to  fear  for  such  a 
man,  that  he  does  but  deceive  himself, 
when  thinking  that  he  has  undergone 
a  great  moral  change;  and  we  must 
urge  upon  him  the  comparing  himself 
with  the  Ephesians  of  old,  who  were 
no  sooner  brought  to  faith  in  the  Sa- 
vior than,  animated  with  desire  to  sup- 
press the  arts  which  had  endangered 
their  souls,  they  collected  their  books, 
and  threw  them  into  the  flames,  though, 
when  the  price  of  them  was  counted, 
"  they  found  it  fifty  thousand  pieces  of 
silver." 


Our  concluding  remarks  on  the  burn- 
ing the  treatises  on  sorcery,  will  be  of 
a  somewhat  different  texture  from  the 
foregoing.  The  epistle  which  St.  Paul 
wrote  to  the  Ephesians  about  four  years 
after  this  event,  is  among  the  most 
beautiful  and  valuable  portions  of  the 
New  Testament.*  It  is  not,  as  is  the 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  or  that  to  the 
Hebrews,  a  great  controversial  trea- 
tise; it  is  a  letter  to  those  who,  having 
been  well  initiated  into  Christianity, 
and  grounded  in  its  fundamental  prin- 
ciples, might  be  conducted  to  its  more 
secret  depths,  or  admitted  into  ac- 
quaintance with  its  profounder  myste- 
ries. There  is,  perhaps,  no  part  of  the 
writings  of  St.  Paul,  in  which  the  ele- 
ments of  Christian  truth  are  more  as- 
sumed as  placed  beyond  controversy, 
and  in  which,  therefore,  the  Apostle 
seems  to  feel  more  at  liberty  to  des- 
cant on  sublime  things,  and  unfold 
glorious  wonders.  If  it  be  lawful,  ia 
speaking  of  Scripture,  to  draw  such  a 
distinction,  we  should  say  that  the 
Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  is  among  the 
most  spiritual  of  the  inspired  writings, 
thron'ing  open,  in  an  uncommon  de- 
gree, the  very  recesses  of  the  Gospel, 
and  presenting  such  heights  of  Chris- 
tian doctrine  as,  after  all  our  soarings, 
still  lose  themselves  in  the  clouds. 

And  it  has  been  justly  pointed  out, 
as  singularly  worthy  of  observation, 
that  it  was  to  men  who  had  burnt  their 
books  on  curious  arts  that  an  epistle 
was  indited,  so  replete  with  what  is 
most  wonderful,  most  beautiful,  most 
profound,  in  Christianity.  If  you  will 
allow  us  the  expression,  it  v/as  like 
repaying  them  in  kind.  The  Ephesians 
had  abandoned  the  mysteries  of  sorce- 
ry and  astrology:  at  the  bidding  of  the 
Apostle  they  had  renounced  unhallow- 
ed modes  of  prying  into  the  secrets  of 
the  invisible  world  ;  and  they  were  re- 
compensed by  being  led  to  the  inner- 
most shrines  of  truth,  and  permitted 
to  behold  glories  which  were  veiled 
from  common  gaze.  They  gave  up  thu 
astrology,  w-hich  is  busied  with  stars 
that  shall  be  quenched,  and  lo,  "the 
Sun  of  righteousness "  rose  on  them 
with  extraordinary  effulgence  ;  they 
renounced  the  magic  which  would  con- 
jure up  strange  forms,  and  a  rod,  like 

Knox's  Con'Pspo!>Jcnce. 

5S 


458 


THE   PARTING    HYMN. 


that  of  Moses,  was  stretched  forth,  peo- 
pling the  whole  universe  with  images 
of  splendor;  they  abjured  the  necro- 
mancy, which  sought  to  extort  from 
the  dead  revelations  of  the  future,  and 
the  very  grave  became  luminous,  and 
its  ashes  glowed  for  them  with  immor- 
tality. 

Learn  ye  from  this,  that  ye  cannot 
give  up  any  thing  for  God,  and  be  los- 
ers by  the  surrender.  The  loss  is  al- 
ways far  more  than  made  up,  and,  per- 
haps, often  by  the  communication  of 
something  which  resembles,  whilst  it 
immeasurably  excels,  what  you    part 


with.  Never  stay,  then,  to  compute 
the  cost :  the  Ephesians  do  not  seem 
to  have  computed  it  before  they  burnt 
their  books,  though  they  computed  it 
after — and  then,  not  in  regret,  but  on- 
ly to  display  the  triumph  of  the  Gos- 
pel. Let  the  cost  be  ''  fifty  thousand 
pieces  of  silver :"  hesitate  not  to  make 
the  sacrifice  for  God,  and  you  shall 
find  yourselves  a  hundred-fold  recom- 
pensed :  like  the  Ephesians,  if  you  for- 
sake magic,  because  God  hath  forbid- 
den it,  ye  shall  be  initiated  into  mys- 
teries which  the  Holy  Spirit  alone  can 
reveal. 


SERMON    IV. 


THE    PARTING    HYMN. 


'And  when  they  had  sung  an  hymn  they  went  out  into  the  Mount  of  Olives." — Matthew,  26  :  3(?» 


These  words  refer,  as  you  are  proba- 
bly all  aware,  to  the  conclusion  of  our 
Lord's  last  supper  with  his  disciples, 
when,  having  instituted  a  sacrament 
which  .was  to  take  the  place  of  the 
Passover,  he  went  forth  to  meet  the 
sufferings  through  which  the  world 
should  be  redeemed.  The  evangelist 
St.  John  does  not  give  any  account  of 
the  institution  of  the  Sacrament  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  but  he  records  sundry 
most  important  discourses  which  Christ 
delivered  at  this  time  to  hisafilicted  dis- 
ciples. It  is  probable  that  a  portion  of 
these  discourses  was  uttered  immedi- 
ately after  the  institution  of  the  Sacra- 
ment, and  before  our  Lord  quitted  the 
chamber  in  which  he  had  supped  with 
his  followers.  The  remainder  are  ge- 
nerally thought  to  have  been  delivered 
ontl.e  Mount  of  Olives,  to  which  Christ 
first  went,  as  is  stated  in  our  text,  and 
from   which,  as   the  night  advanced, 


he  retired  with  Peter,  and  James,  anel 
John,  to  Gethsemane,  that  he  might  un- 
dergo mysterious  agony,  and  meet  in 
dread  conflict  the  powers  of  darkness. 
But,  to  whatever  times  and  places  we 
may  affix  the  several  discourses  pre- 
served by  St.  John,  there  is  every  rea- 
son to  think  that  our  text  relates  the 
last  thing  which  occurred  in  the  room 
where  the  supper  had  been  eaten  ;  that, 
so  soon  as  the  hymn,  or  psalm,  had  been 
sung,  our  Lord  left  the  room,  that  he 
might  give  himself  to  the  enemies  who 
thirsted  for  his  blood.  Opportunity  may 
have  been  afterwards  found  of  fortify- 
ing still  further  the  minds  of  the  disci- 
ples; but  we  are  to  consider  that  the 
singing  of  the  hymn  was  the  last  thing 
done  at  Christ's  last  supper,  and  that, 
this  having  been  done,  the  blessed  Re- 
deemer, as  one  who  knew  that  his  hour 
was  come,  forthwith  departed  to  sufler 
and  to  die. 


THE    PARTING    HYMN. 


459 


And  what  was  the  hymn,  or  psalm, 
chanted  at  so  fearful  and  melancholy 
a  moment  1  There  is  no  reason  to  think 
that  our  Lord  swerved  from  the  custom 
of  the  Jews ;  he  had  commemorated 
the  Passover  as  it  was  then  wont  to  be 
commemorated  by  his  countrymen  ; 
and  we  may  justly,  therefore,  conclude 
that  he  sung  what  they  were  used  to 
sing  in  finishing  the  solemn  celebra- 
tion. When  the  Passover  was  institu- 
ted, on  the  eventful  night  of  the  de- 
struction of  the  first-born  of  the  Egyp- 
tians, various  forms  and  practices  were 
enjoined,  as  you  find  related  in  the 
twelfth  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Exo- 
dus. But  in  after-times,  especially  in 
those  of  our  Savior,  when  traditions 
had  come  to  their  height,  numerous 
circumstances  were  added  to  the  cele- 
bration, so  that  the  original  rites  form- 
ed but  a  small  part  of  what  were  prac- 
tised by  the  Jews.*  And  learned  men 
have  well  observed  that  the  New  Tes- 
tament, in  several  places,  refers  to 
certain  of  these  additional  circumstan- 
ces, leaving  us  to  infer  that  Christ 
commemorated  the  Passover  as  it 
was  then  ordinarily  commemorated, 
without  rejecting  such  customs  as 
could  not  distinctly  plead  the  autho- 
rity of  the  law.  Thus,  for  example,  at 
the  first  Passover  in  Egypt,  the  strict 
injunction  had  been,  that  they  should 
eat  it  "with  their  loins  girded,  their 
shoes  on  their  feet,  their  staves  in 
their  hands,  and  in  haste.  The  posture 
enjoined  and  practised  corresponded 
accurately  with  their  condition,  that  of 
men  about  to  be  thrust  forth  from  the 
country,  and  to  enter  on  a  toilsome 
and  difficult  march.  But  afterwards 
the  Jews  altered  the  posture,  that  it 
might  answer  better  to  their  altered 
circumstances.  At  their  common  meals 
the  Jews  either  sat,  as  we  do,  with 
their  bodies  erect,  or  reclined  on 
couches,  with  the  left  elbow  on  the 
table.  But  on  the  Passover  night  they 
considered  themselves  obliged  to  use 
the  recumbent  position,  because  it 
marked,  as  they  thought,  their  free- 
dom and  composure.  Now  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  in  this  our  Lord  conformed 
to  the  custom  of  the  Jews:  the  belov- 
ed disciple,  John,  leant  on  his  bosom 
during  the  repast,  from  which  we  infer, 

*  See  Lightfoot  on  the  celebration  of  the  Passover. 


at  once,  that  Christ  and  his  Apostles 
reclined  in  the  eating  the  Passover. 

To  give  another  instance.  The  eat- 
ing of  unleavened  bread  at  this  time 
was  enjoined  by  a  special  and  express 
command,  which  you  find  in  the  Book 
of  Exodus;  but  nothing  is  there  said 
as  to  the  use  of  wine  at  the  Passover. 
Subsequently,  however,  the  drinking 
wine  at  the  Passover  came  to  be  con- 
sidered as  indispensable  as  the  eating 
the  unleavened  bread.  We  find  it  ex- 
pressly stated  by  the  Rabbinical  wri- 
ters, that  "  the  poorest  man  in  Israel 
was  bound  to  drink  off  four  cups  of 
wine  this  night,  yea,  though  he  lived 
of  the  alms-basket."  Now  it  is  very 
clear  that  our  Lord  and  his  disciples 
made  use  of  wine  at  the  Passover:  nay, 
Christ  may  be  said  to  have  given  a  di- 
rect sanction  to  what  might  have  been 
regarded  as  the  innovation  of  tradition  ; 
for  he  took  the  cup  which  men  had 
introduced  into  the  paschal  supper,  and 
consecrated  it  in  perpetual  memorial 
of  his  own  precious  blood.  In  like  man- 
ner, with  regard  to  the  singing  of  a 
psalm  or  hymn — there  is  nothing  said 
in  the  Book  of  Exodus  as  to  the  con- 
cluding the  paschal  supper  with  any 
such  act,  yet  the  custom  was  intro- 
duced in  process  of  time,  and  the  Jews 
made  a  point  of  singing  the  hundred 
and  thirteenth  and  the  five  followino- 
Psalms,  Psalms  which  are  said  to  have 
been  selected,  not  only  because  con- 
taining, in  the  general,  high  and  emi- 
nent memorials  of  God's  goodness  and 
deliverance  unto  Israel,  but  because 
they  record  these  five  great  thino-s, 
"  the  coming  out  of  Egypt,  the  divid- 
ing of  the  sea,  the  giving  of  the  law, 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  and  the 
lot  of  Messias."  These  psalms  were 
repeated,  or  chanted,  on  other  occa- 
sions besides  that  of  the  Passover — as 
at  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  and  on  the 
eight  days  of  the  feast  of  Dedication. 
But  at  no  time  was  their  use  more 
strictly  observed  than  on  the  night  of 
the  Passover,  though  they  were  not 
then  all  sung  at  once,  but  rather  dis- 
persed over  the  service ;  only  so  that, 
when  the  last  cup  of  wine  was  filled, 
the  concluding  psalms  were  sung  ;  and 
thus  the  solemnities  terminated  with 
the  chant,  "  Thou  art  my  God,  and  I 
will  praise  thee  ;  thou  art  my  God,  I 
will  exalt  thee.    0   give  thanks  unto 


460 


THE    PARTING   HYMN. 


the  Lord,  for  he  is  good,  for  his  mercy 
endureth  for  ever."  As  we  are  express- 
ly told  that  Christ  concluded  the  Pass- 
over with  a  psalm  or  hymn,  we  cannot 
well  doubt,  that,  having  conformed  in 
other  respects  to  the  existing  customs 
of  the  Jews,  he  conformed  also  in 
this  ;  and  that,  consequently,  the  words 
which  he  sung  with  his  disciples  were 
the  words  then  ordinarily  used  in  the 
solemn  commemoration  of  the  deliver- 
ance from  Egypt.  We  shall  assume 
this  through  the  remainder  of  our  dis- 
course ;  so  that  if,  over  and  above  the 
fact  of  a  hymn  having  been  sung,  we 
have  occasion  to  refer  to  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  hymn,  we  shall  turn  to 
the  psalms  which  constituted  what  the 
Jews  called  the  Hallel,  from  the  repe- 
tition of  the  word  "  Hallelujah,"  and 
seek  in  them  for  the  expressions  which 
were  woven  into  the  anthem  of  our 
Lord  and  his  Apostles. 

There  are  many  truths  which  pre- 
sent themselves  to  the  mind,  when  it 
duly  ponders  the  simple  statement  of 
the  text.  Our  foregoing  remarks,  bear- 
ino-  merely  on  the  fact  that  Christ  con- 
formed to  the  innovations  of  the  Jews, 
will  only  help  us  to  the  making  one 
use,  though  an  important  one,  of  the 
passage.  We  shall  find,  however,  as  we 
proceed,  that  what  we  may  have  been 
used  to  pass  by,  as  the  bare  announce- 
ment of  a  fact  but  little  interesting  to 
ourselves,  is  fraught  with  rich  and  va- 
ried instruction.  Let  us  then  employ 
ourselves,  without  anticipating  any  fur- 
ther the  lessons  to  be  extracted,  in  con- 
sidering whether,  as  with  all  other 
Scripture,  it  were  not  for  our  admoni- 
tion and  instruction  in  righteousness, 
that  the  sacred  historian,  having  given 
lis  the  account  of  the  last  supper,  was 
directed  to  record  of  Christ  and  his 
Apostles,  that  ''  when  they  had  sung  an 
hymn,  they  went  out  into  the  Mount 
of  Olives." 

Now  the  first  important  truth  on 
which  we  would  speak,  as  enforced  or 
illustrated  by  the  passage  under  re- 
view, is  that  to  which  our  introductory 
remarks  have  all  tended,  that  our  bless- 
ed Lord,  by  conforming  to  certain  cus- 
toms of  the  Jews  in  the  eatino"  of  the 
Passover,  gave  his  sanction  to  cere- 
monies which  may  not  be  able  to  plead 
a  divine  institution.  We  have  shown 
you  that  it  was  not  only  in  the  singing 


of  psalms,  bat  in  many  other  particu- 
lars, such  as  the  recumbent  posture, 
and  the  drinking  of  wine,  that  the  Jews 
had  altered,  or  added  to,  the  original 
practice,  but  that  our  Savior  made  no 
objection  to  the  alteration  or  addition. 
He  celebrated  the  Passover  just  as  he 
found  it  then  used  to  be  celebrated, 
submitting,  so  to  speak,  to  tradition 
and  custom.  And  yet,  had  there  been 
any  thing  of  a  captious  spirit,  there 
might  perhaps  have  been  matter  for 
doubt  or  disputation.  It  might  have 
been  urged,  with  some  show  of  justice, 
that  the  innovations  were  not  necessa- 
rily in  keeping  with  the  character  of 
the  ordinance;  that  the  recumbent  pos- 
ture, for  example,  and  the  drinking  of 
wine,  as  betokening,  or  according  with, 
security  and  gladness,  scarcely  suited 
the  commemoration  of  events  which 
had  been  marked  by  hurry,  agitation, 
and  alarm.  And  with  regard  even  to 
the  singing  of  psalms — if  it  had  been 
admitted  that  the  occasion  was  one 
which  would  well  warrant  the  praising- 
God  with  loud  anthems,  it  might  still 
have  been  asked,  Why  use  these  par- 
ticular psalms  1  Have  we  not  the  Song 
of  Miriam,  which,  as  composed  im- 
mediately after  the  deliverance  from 
Egypt,  would  be-far  more  appropriate"? 
or  have  we  not  the  song  of  Moses] 
and  would  not  the  song  of  the  leader, 
through  whom  the  Passover  was  insti- 
tuted, and  the  emancipation  achieved, 
remind  us  better  of  what  we  owe  to 
God,  than  the  words  of  one  who  lived 
long  after  the  recorded  events,  when 
we  were  settled  as  a  nation,  and  not 
wanderers  in  the  desert  1 

We  think  there  would  have  been  no 
difficulty  in  thus  making  out,  so  to 
speak,  a  sort  of  plausible  case  against 
the  innovations  of  the  Jews  in  the  Pass- 
over service.  Had  our  Lord  been  a 
leader,  disposed  to  make  ceremonies 
the  occasion  of  schism,  he  might  have 
armed  himself  with  very  specious  ob- 
jections, and  have  urged  that  there 
were  conscientious  grounds  for  sepa- 
rating from  the  communion  of  the  na- 
tional church.  But  it  is  evident  that 
our  blessed  Savior  acknowledged  a 
power  in  the  church  of  decreeing  rites 
and  ceremonies,  and  of  changing  those 
rites  and  ceremonies  "according  (as 
our  thirty-fourth  Article  expresses  it) 
to  the  diversities  of  countries,  times, 


THE   PARTING   H^MN. 


461 


and  men's  manners,  so  that  nothing  be 
ordained  against  God's  word."    He  did 
not  require  that  every  ceremony  should 
be  able  to  plead  a  positive  command  in 
the  Bible,  nor  that  it  should  prove  it- 
self modelled  after  the  original  prac- 
tice.   Had  he  done  this,  it  is  manifest 
that  he  must  have  objected  to  the  ce- 
remonies  in   the    celebration   of    the 
Passover ;  for  they  could  not  plead  a 
divine  institution,  and  were  rather  at 
variance  than  in  accordance  with  what 
had  been  at  first  appointed  or  observ- 
ed.   But  we  may  justly  conclude  that 
our  Lord  proceeded  on  what  (were  it 
not  for  modern  cavils)  we  might  call  a 
self-evident  principle,   that   rites   and 
ceremonies  are  not  in  themselves  any 
part  of  the  public  worship  of  God  ;  they 
are  nothing  but  circumstances  and  cus- 
toms to  be  observed  in  the  conducting 
that  worship,  and  may  therefore  be  en- 
acted and  altered  as  shall  seem  best  to 
the  church.   Had  the  innovations  of  the 
Jews  interfered,  in  any  measure,  with 
the  character  of  the  Passover  as  a  re- 
ligious ordinance,  had  they  at  all  op- 
posed  its   commemorative    office,    or 
militated  against  it  as  a  sacrifice  and  a 
sacrament,  we  cannot  doubt  that  Christ 
would  have   entered  his  protest,  that 
he  would  never  have  given  the  sanc- 
tion of  his  example  to  what  would  have 
been  a  corruption  of  the  worship  of 
God.    This,  however,  is  more  than  can 
justly  be  affirmed  of  any  mere  rite  or 
ceremony ;  for  rites  or  ceremonies,  so 
long  as  they  are  not  against  Scripture, 
must  be  regarded  as  indifferent  things, 
neither  good  in  themselves  nor  bad; 
and  if  they  are  indifferent,  they  may 
be  omitted,  or  introduced,  or  changed, 
without  at  all  affecting  the  act  of  di- 
vine worship,  and  merely  in  conformi- 
ty, according  to  diversity  of  circum- 
stances, with  the  rule  of  the  Apostle, 
"  Let  all  things  be  done  decently  and 
in  order." 

Perhaps  the  Jews,  in  changing  the 
posture  in  which  the  Passover  was  to 
be  eaten,  went  as  near  to  an  interfe- 
rence with  the  ordinance  itself  as  any 
mere  rite  or  ceremony  could  go  ;  for 
it  might  have  been  urged  that  a  differ- 
ent, if  not  an  untrue,  character  was 
given  to  the  ordinance,  the  aspect  of 
composedness  and  rest  having  been 
made  to  take  the  place  of  that  of  haste 
and  agitation.   But  you  are  to  remem- 


ber that  the  circumstances  of  the  Isra- 
elites were  really  changed :  the  Pass- 
over, as  to  be  commemorated  in  after 
times,  found   them   in   a  very  altered 
position  from  what  they  had  occupied 
when  the  Passover  was  originally  insti- 
tuted ;  and  the  new  rites,  which  they 
introduced,  did  but  correspond  to  this 
new  position ;  they  interfered  neither 
with  the  slaying  nor  with  the  eating  of 
the  lamb  ;  they  were  only  so  far  differ- 
ent from  the  old  as  to  indicate  what 
was  matter  of  fact  in  regard  of  the 
Jews,  that,  as  their  fathers  eat  the  Pass- 
over in  a  night  of  disaster  and  death, 
themselves  were  allowed,  through  the 
mercy  of  God,  to  eat  of  it  in  security 
and  gladness.    And  it  can  hardly  fail 
to  strike  you,  that,  in  such  an  altera- 
tion, whea  distinctly  sanctioned  by  the 
practice  of  our  Lord,  we  have  a  prece- 
dent for  changes  which  the  church  may 
have  introduced  into  the  ceremonials 
of  religion.    Take,  for  example,  a  case 
which  bears  close  resemblance  to  that 
just  considered.    When  the  Sacrament 
of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  originally  in- 
stituted, the  Apostles  sat  or  reclined  in 
the  receiving  it;  whereas  it  is  now  the 
appointment  of  the   church,  that    we 
should  kneel  to  receive  it.    There  has 
been,  that  is,  much  of  the  same  depar- 
ture from  the  first  practice  as  in  the 
instance  of  the  Passover.   And  if  by  the 
act  of  kneeling  we   offered  any  ado- 
ration to  the  bread  and  the  wine,   as 
though  we  supposed  them  substantially 
changed  into  Christ's  body  and  blood, 
it  is  evident  that  the  alteration  in  the 
ceremony  would  be  an  infringement  of 
the  Sacrament  itself,  and  that  no  church 
would    have    right    to    substitute    the 
kneeling  for  the  sitting.  But  the  kneel- 
ing at  the  Communion,  as  we  are  ex- 
pressly taught  by  the  church,  is  meant 
only  ''  for  a  signification  of  our  humble 
and   grateful   acknowledgment  of  the 
benefits  of  Christ  therein  given  to  all 
worthy  receivers  ;"  and  the  alteration 
may  therefore  be  said  to  be  just  such 
as  was  made  by  the  Jews  in  respect 
of  the  Passover — an  alteration   corre- 
sponding  to    altered    circumstances : 
when  the  Lord's  Supper  was  institu- 
ted, Christ  had  not  died,  and  the  bene- 
fits of  his  death,  as  conveyed  through 
the  Sacrament,  were  but  partially,  if  at 
all,  understood  ;  but  now  that  Christ 
hath  died,  and  the  Spirit  been  given  to 


462 


THE   PARTING   HYMN. 


explain  and  apply  his  finished  work,  we 
know  that  the  Lord's  Supper  is  the 
great  instituted  means  for  the  commu- 
nication to  our  souls  of  the  results  of 
his  sacrifice;  and  surely,  if  a  reclining 
posture  became  those  who  had  yet  to 
learn  what  the  Sacrament  would  do  for 
them,  a  kneeling  may  be  more  appro- 
priate, when  the  office  of  that  holy 
mystery  has  been  more  unfolded. 

But  without  insisting  further  on  par- 
ticular instances,  which  would  only  un- 
duly detain  us  from  other  and  more 
interesting  truths,  we  venture  to  take 
our  Lord's  conduct,  in  regard  of  the 
ceremonies  at  the  Passover,  as  estab- 
lishing the  authority  of  the  church  to 
ordain  and  alter  ceremonies  and  rites, 
and  as  strongly  condemning  those  who 
would  make  mere  ceremonies  and  rites 
the  excuses  for  disunion  and  schism. 
Our  Lord  conformed  to  customs  and 
alterations,   for  which  it   would   have 
been  impossible  to  produce  divine  war- 
rant,  and   against  which  it  would  not 
have  been   difficult  to  advance   some 
specious  objections.    And  we    argue, 
therefore,  that  the  church  is  not  obli- 
ged to  find  chapter  and  verse  for  every 
ceremony  which  she  is  pleased  to  en- 
join, as  though  she  had  no  power  of 
settling  points  of  discipline  or  order, 
except  so  far  as  she  can  justify  the  set- 
tlement by  an  appeal  to  inspired  au- 
thority.    We  argue  further,  from  the 
instance  before  us,  that  the  church  hav- 
ing appointed  what  she  judges  most  for 
the  general  good,  individuals  have  no 
riafht  to  separate  and  oppose,  because 
they  do  not  find  the  appointment  pre- 
cisely congenial  with  their  feelings  or 
circumstances.    Look  at  Christ  and  his 
Apostles — they  were  about  to  be  part- 
ed :    Christ    was    just    entering    upon 
scenes  immeasurably  more  tremendous 
than  had  ever  been  passed  through  by 
any  of  our  race  ;  the  Apostles  were  full 
of  apprehensions  and  grief,   for  their 
Lord  had  announced  his  departure,  and 
the  announcement  had  distracted  their 
minds.    What  an  unseasonable  moment 
for  singing  joyous  hymns!   How  natu- 
ral to  have  said,  "  This  part  of  the  ap- 
pointed service  is  not  suited  to  us  now ; 
and,  forasmuch  as  it  certainly  is  not  of 
divine  institution,  we  may  surely  dis- 
pense with  it,  when  our  hearts  are  so 
heavy  and  sad."    But  no!  it  was  the 
ordinance  of  the  church:  the  church 


had  full  authority  to  appoint  such  an 
ordinance  ;  and  Christ  and  his  Apostles 
would  give  their  testimony  to  the  duty 
of  conformity  to  all  lawful  ordinances, 
whether  in  unison  or  not  with  individu- 
al feelings.  And  on  this  account,  as  we 
may  venture  to  believe — or,  if  not  for 
this  purpose,  assuredly  with  this  result 
— though  they  were  stricken  in  spirit, 
disquieted,  yea,  sorely  distressed,  they 
would  not  depart  from  the  chamber  till 
they  had  done  all  which  was  enjoined 
by  the  church,  and  thus  shown  that 
they  acknowledged  her  authority ;  it 
was  not  until  "they  had  sung  an  hymn," 
that  "  they  went  out  into  the  Mount  of 
Olives." 

But  now  let  us  take  another  view  of 
this  fact.  We  have  just  considered  the 
singing  of  an  hymn  as  inappropriate  to 
the  circumstances  of  Christ  and  his 
Apostles ;  and  no  doubt  there  was  an 
apparent  unsuitableness  which  might 
have  been  pleaded  by  those  who  sought 
an  excuse  for  disobedience  to  ecclesi- 
astical rule.  Solomon  has  said,  "  As 
he  that  taketh  away  a  garment  in  cold 
weather,  and  as  vinegar  upon  nitre,  so 
is  he  that  singeth  songs  to  a  heavy 
heart."  And  thus  the  wise  man  may 
be  considered  as  having  delivered  his 
testimony  against  the  fitness  of  music 
and  minstrelsy,  when  there  is  a  weight 
at  the  heart,  and  the  spirits  are  op- 
pressed. But  "  a  greater  than  Solomon 
is  here;"  and  we  may  perhaps  say  that 
it  was  with  the  singing  of  an  hymn  that 
Christ  prepared  himself  for  his  un- 
known agony.  Setting  aside  all  con- 
siderations drawn  from  the  ordinances 
of  the  Church,  is  it  at  all  strange  that 
our  blessed  Lord  and  his  disciples 
should  have  sung  joyous  hymns  at  a 
moment  so  full  of  darkness  and  dread  1 
For  joyous  hymns  they  were  in  which 
they  joined  :  music  has  its  melancholy 
strains  as  well  as  its  gladdening — the 
dirge  for  the  funeral  as  well  as  the 
song  for  the  marriage  or  the  banquet ; 
and  Christ  and  his  Apostles  might  have 
thrown  the  sadness  of  their  spirits  into 
the  slow,  measured  cadences  of  some 
solemn  lament.  But,  as  we  have  just 
said,  they  were  joyous  hymns  in  Avhich 
theyjoined.  Look  at  the  Jewish  Hallel, 
and  you  find  it  abounding  in  expressions 
of  confidence  and  praise :  "  The  Lord  is 
my  strength  and  song,  and  is  become 
my  salvation.     The  voice  of  rejoicing 


THE    PARTING    HYMN. 


4.63 


and  salvation  is  in  the  tabernacles  of 
the  righteous :  the  right  hand  of  the 
Lord  doeth  valiantly.  The  right  hand 
of  the  Lord  is  exalted  ;  the  right  hand 
of  the  Lord  doeth  valiantly.  I  shall 
not  die,  but  live,  and  declare  the  works 
of  the  Lord." 

And  was  it,  think  you,  a  strange  pre- 
paration for  the  Mount  of  Olives  and 
the   Garden   of  Gethsemane,    thus  to 
commemorate  the  mercies,  and  chant 
the   praises  of  the  Most  High   God  1 
Nay,  it  is  recorded  of  Luther  that,  on 
receiving  any  discouraging  news,  he 
was  wont  to  say,  "  Come,  let  us  sing 
the    forty-sixth    Psalm," — that    Psalm 
which    commences   with    the    words, 
"God  is   our  refuge   and  strength,  a 
very  present  help  in  trouble  ;  therefore 
will  not  we  fear,  though  the  earth  be 
removed,  and  though  the  mountains  be 
carried  into  the  midst  of  the  sea."  And 
it  were  well  for  us,  my  brethren,  if  in 
seasons  of  trouble  we  betook  ourselves 
to  praise,  and  not  only  to  prayer.     If 
we  find  ourselves  in  circumstances  of 
difficulty,  if  dangers  surround  us,  and 
duties  seem  too  great  for  our  strength, 
we  almost  naturally  cry  unto  God,  and 
entreat  of  him   assistance   and    guar- 
dianship.    And  indeed   we   do  right  : 
God    has   made   our  receiving   condi- 
tional on  our  asking  ;  and  we  can  never 
be  too  diligent  in   supplicating  at  his 
hands  the  supply  of  our  many  necessi- 
ties.    But   ought  we  to   confine   our- 
selves to  prayer,  as  though  praise  were 
out  of  place  when  mercies  are  needed, 
and  only  became  us  when  they  have 
just   been  received"?     Not  so:  praise 
is  the  best  auxiliary  to  prayer  ;  and  he 
who  most  bears  in  mind  what  has  been 
done  for  him  by  God,  will  be  most  em- 
boldened to  supplicate  fresh  gifts  from 
above.  We  should  recount  God's  mer- 
cies, we  should  call  upon   our  souls, 
and  all  that  is  within  us,  to  laud  and 
magnify  his  name,  when  summoned  to 
face   new  trials,  and  encounter  fresh 
dangers.       Would    it    sound    to    you 
strange,  if  on  approaching  the  cham- 
ber where,  as  you  knew,  the  father  of  : 
a  family   had  just   breathed   his   last, 
you  heard  voices  mingling,  not  in  a  I 
melanchoW   chant,   but   rather  in  one 
of  lofty  commemoration,  such  as  might  [ 
be  taken  from  the  Jewish  Hallel,  "  The 
Lord  hath  been  mindful  of  us  j  he  will  j 
bless  us  ;  he  will  bless  the  house  of  Is-  I 


rael,  he  will  bless  the  house  of  Aaron  1 
The  Lord  is  on  my  side,  I  will  not  fear  : 
what  can  man  do  unto  me  T'     Would 
;  you  be  disposed  to  say  that  the  widow 
and  the  orphans,  whose  voices  you  re- 
cognized in  the  thankful  anthem,  were 
strangely  employed  1  and  that  the  ut- 
terances over   the    dead    would   have 
more  fittingly   been   those  of  earnest 
petition  unto  God,  of  deep-drawn  en- 
treaty for  the  light  of  his  countenance 
and  the  strength  of  his  Spirit  %  Nay,  the 
widow  and  her  orphans,  if  not  actually 
praying  the  most  effectual  of  prayers, 
would  be  thereby  most  effectually  pre- 
paring   themselves    for    praying   unto 
God  :   if,  now  that  their  chief  earthly 
stay  is  removed,  they  have  to  enter  on 
a  dark  and  dangerous  path,  they  can- 
j  not  do  better  than  thus  call  to  mind 
j  what  the  Almighty  has  proved  himself 
;  to  others  and  themselves  ;  the  anthem 
I  is  the  best  prelude  to  the  supplication  ; 
I  and  their  first  step  toward  the  Mount 
i  of  Olives  will  be  all  the  firmer,  if,  be- 
j  fore  they  cry,  "  Hold  thou  up  our  go- 
j  ings  in  thy  paths,"   they  join  in  the 
I  song,  "  His  merciful  kindness  is  great 
towards  us,  and  the  truth  of  the  Lord 
endureth  for  ever ;  praise  ye  the  Lord." 
1      We  wish  you  to    draw  this  lesson 
I  from  the  last  action  of  Christ  and  his 
i  Apostles,   before   they   went  forth  to 
I  extraordinary  trial.     We  wish  you  to 
observe,   and  understand,  that  so   far 
from  being  unsuited  to  circumstances 
of  perplexity  and  danger,  the  song  of 
praise  should  at  least  mingle  with  the 
cry  of  prayer,  and  that,  if  you  would 
arm  yourselves  for  trouble  and  for  duty, 
you  should  recount  the  marvellous  acts 
of  the  Lord,  as  well  as  supplicate  the 
communications  of  his  grace.     This  is 
too  much  overlooked  and  neglected  by 
Christians.     They    are   more    familiar 
with  the  earnest  petition  than  with  the 
grateful  anthem.     Like  the  captives  in 
Babylon,  they  hang  their  harps  upon 
the  willows,  when  they  find  themselves 
in    a  strange   land  ;    whereas,   if  they 
would  sing  "  one  of  the  songs  of  Zion  '" 
it  would  not  only  remind  them  of  home, 
but  encourage  them  to  ask  assistance 
and  expect  deliverance.     Make  trial  of 
this  method,  ye  who  have  a  dark  path 
before  you,  and  who  shrink   from  en- 
tering into  the  cloud.     You   have   of- 
fered prayer — have  you   also   offered 
praise  ?    you  have  commended  your- 


464 


THB   PARTING   HYMN. 


selves  to  God  for  the  future — have  you 
also  commemorated  his  care  of  you 
through  the  past  1  Say  not,  "  How 
can  I  sing  the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange 
landl"  With  this  burden  upon  me, 
and  this  prospect  before  me,  it  is  too 
much  to  expect  me  to  do  more  than 
pray :  who  can  sing  songs  with  a  hea- 
vy heart  1"  This  is  the  very  feeling 
against  which  we  would  warn  you. 
There  is  no  Christian  with  so  great 
cause  of  sorrow,  as  to  be  without  a 
greater  of  thankfulness.  And  the 
chords  of  the  soul  will  never  give 
forth  so  fervent  a  prayer,  as  when 
the  Christian  has  been  endeavoring  to 
string  them  to  the  chorus  of  praise. 
Look  at  Christ  and  his  Apostles.  You 
will  not  say  that  your  circumstances 
can  be  more  distressing  than  theirs; 
that  there  is  more,  in  the  peculiarities 
of  the  trial,  to  excuse  you  from  sing- 
ing ''  the  Lord's  song."  Yet  before 
they  departed — the  Redeemer  to  his 
terrible  agony,  the  disciples  to  the 
dreaded  separation — the  last  thing 
which  they  did  was  to  join  in  the 
chanting  of^  thankful  psalms :  it  was 
not  until  ''  they  had  sung  an  hymn," 
but  then  it  was,  that  ''  they  went  out 
into  the  Mount  of  Olives." 

But  we  have  yet  to  observe,  that,  so 
far  as  praise  is  a  great  auxiliary  to 
prayer,  and  therefore  well  adapted  to 
circumstances  of  perplexity  and  dan- 
ger, the  repetition  of  thankful  psalms 
might  seem  sufficient ;  whereas,  with 
Christ  and  his  Apostles,  there  was  the 
singing  of  such  psalms.  We  think 
that  this  fact  ought  not  to  be  let  pass 
without  a  more  special  comment. 

We  are  too  apt  to  regard  music  as  a 
human  art,  or  invention,  just  because 
men  make  certain  musical  instruments, 
and  compose  certain  musical  pieces. 
And  hence  there  are  Christians  who 
would  banish  music  from  the  public 
worship  of  God,  as  though  unsuited 
to,  or  unworthy  of,  so  high  and  illus- 
trious an  employment.  But  it  is  for- 
gotten, as  has  been  observed  by  a 
well-known  writer,*  that  the  princi- 
ples of  harmony  are  in  the  elements  of 
nature,  that,  "the  element  of  air  was  as 
certainly  ordained  to  give  us  harmoni- 
ous sounds  in  due  measure,  as  to  give 
respiration   to  the  lungs."      God   has 


.Tones,  of  Nayland. 


given  us  "  music  in  the  air,  as  he  hath 
given  us  wine  in  the  grape ;"  leaving 
it  to  man  to  draw  forth  the  rich  melo- 
dy, as  well  as  to  extract  the  inspiriting 
juice,  but  designing  that  both  should 
be  employed  to  his  glory,  and  used  in 
his  service.  Wine  was  eminently  con- 
secrated for  religion,  when  chosen  as 
the  sacramental  representation  of  the 
precious  blood  of  the  Redeemer;  and 
a  holy  distinction  ought  never  to  be 
denied  to  music,  whilst  the  Psalmist, 
speaking  undoubtedly  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  exclaims,  "Praise  him  with 
stringed  instruments  and  organs ;  praise 
him  upon  the  loud  cymbals  ;  praise  him 
upon  the  high-sounding  cymbals." 

It  is  not,  however,  instrumental  mu- 
sic which  is  mentioned  in  the  text. 
"  They  sang  an  hymn."  There  is  an- 
other remarkable  instance  recorded  in 
the  New  Testament  of  God's  praises 
having  been  sung  at  a  strange  time, 
and  in  a  strange  place.  Paul  and  Silas, 
thrust  into  the  inner  prison  at  Philippi, 
and  with  their  feet  made  fast  in  the 
stocks,  had  recourse  to  singing,  as 
though  their  condition  had  been  pros- 
perous, and  their  spirits  elated.  "And 
at  midnight  Paul  and  Silas  prayed,  and 
sang  praises  unto  God,  and  the  prison- 
ers heard  them."  They  were  not  con- 
tent with  reminding  each  the  other  of 
the  goodness  of  God,  with  speaking 
of  his  greatness  and  loving-kindness  : 
"they  sang  praises  unto  God;"  and 
that,  too,  with  so  loud  a  voice,  that  the 
other  prisoners  heard  them,  though  con- 
fined in  the  remotest  parts  of  the  dun- 
geon. In  like  manner,  Christ  and  his 
Apostles  "  sang  an  hymn  :"  they  were 
not  satisfied  with  repeating  an  hymn ; 
and  we  may  certainly  gather  from  this, 
that  God's  praises  ought  to  be  sung 
rather  than  spoken,  that  singing  is  the 
more  appropriate  vehicle,  even  when 
circumstances  may  be  such  as  to  make 
music  seem  almost  out  of  place. 

It  may,  we  think,  fairly  be  said  that 
the  power  of  singing  has  not  been 
sufliciently  considered  as  one  of  the 
Creator's  gifts  to  his  creatures,  and, 
therefore,  intended  to  be  used  to  his 
glory.  We  recognize  this  fact  in  re- 
gard of  the  power  of  speech :  we  ac- 
knowledge that  God  mustf  have  en- 
dowed man  with  the  faculty  of  uttering 
articulate  sounds,  and  have  clothed 
his  tongue  with  language;  and  we  con- 


THE    PARTING    HYMN. 


465 


fess  that  tthis  very  fact  renders  us  re- 
sponsible, in  a  higli  sense,  for  our  words, 
and  destroys  all  surprise  that  words  are 
to  be  made  a  criterion  at  the  last.  A 
noble  gift  is  abused,  whensoever  an  idle 
word  is  spoken  :  why  then  should  we 
marvel  at  the  assertion  of  our  Lord,  "I 
say  unto  you,  that  every  idle  word  that 
men  shall  speak,  they  shall  give  ac- 
count thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment  1" 
"  For  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justi- 
fied, and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be 
condemned." 

But,  to  quote  again  from  the  writer 
already  referred  to,*  "the  faculty,  by 
which  the  voice  forms  musical  sounds, 
is  as  wonderful  as  the  flexure  of  the 
organs  of  speech  in  the  articulation  of 
words."  Considered  as  the  result  of  cer- 
tain mechanical  arrangements,  singing 
is  perhaps  even  more  marvellous  than 
speaking,  or  gives  a  stronger  witness 
to  the  skill  and  the  power  of  the  Crea- 
tor. This  is  not  the  place  for  bringing 
proof  of  such  assertion  j  but  they,  who 
have  considered  the  human  throat  as  a 
musical  instrument,  and  have  examined, 
on  this  supposition,  its  structure  and 
capacity,  declare  that  it  presents  "  such 
a  refinement  on  mechanism  as  exceeds 
all  description."  And  we  are  not  to 
doubt  that  God  gave  this  faculty  to 
man,  that  he  might  employ  it  on  his 
praises.  The  Psalmist  having  said, 
"  Awake,  psaltery  and  harp,"  exclaims, 
"  I  myself  will  awake  early :"  it  did  not 
content  him,  that  instruments  of  music 
should  start  from  their  silence,  and  give 
forth  the  slumbering  harmony  ;  he  re- 
garded himself  as  an  instrument  more 
curious,  and  more  costly,  than  any 
framed  by  a  human  artificer  j  and, 
therefore,  would  he  too  awake  and 
swell  with  his  voice  the  tide  of  melody. 

But  singing,  like  music  in  general, 
has  been  too  much  given  up  by  the 
Church  to  the  world  ;  it  has  not  been 
sufficiently  considered,  and  cultivated, 
as  designed  for  religious  ends,  and  help- 
ful to  religious  feelings.  And  hence, 
for  the  most  part,  our  psalmody  is  dis- 
creditable to  our  congregations  j  it  is 
either  given  over  to  a  few  hired  sing- 
ers, as  though  we  were  to  praise  God 
by  deputy  ;  or  is  left  with  the  children 
of  the  national  schools,  as  though,  in 
growing  older,  we  had  less  cause  for 


*  Jones. 


thankfulness.     Let  me  say  that  the  ef- 
forts  which  are  now  being  systemati- 
cally made  throughout  the  country  to 
teach  our  population  to  sing,  should  be 
regarded  with  great  interest  and  plea- 
sure by  the  christian.  Such  efforts  have 
a  more  immediate  bearing  than  is,  per- 
haps, commonly  thought,  on  the    na- 
tional piety.     I    do   not  merely  mean 
that    there  is  a  humanizing  power  in 
music,  and    that    the   poor,   taught  to 
sing,  are  likely  to  be  less  wild,  and  less 
prone  to  disorder,  and  therefore  more 
accessible  to  the  ministrations  of  reli- 
gion.    Not,  indeed,  that  I  would  make 
no  account  of  this,  for  I  thoroughly  be- 
lieve that,  in  improving  the  tastes  of  a 
people,  you  are  doing  much  for  their 
moral  advancement.   I  like  to  see  our 
cottagers  encouraged  to  train  the  rose 
and  the  honeysuckle  round  their  doors, 
and  our  weavers,  as  is  often  the  fact, 
dividing  their  attention  between  their 
looms  and  their  carnations ;   for   the 
man   who   can  take  care   of  a  flower, 
and  who  is  all  alive  to  its  beauty,  is  far 
less   likely  than  another,  who  has  no 
delight   in   such    recreations,   to    give 
himself  up   to  gross  lusts  and  habits. 
But,  independently  on  this,  if  singing 
were  generally  taught,  the  psalmody  iu 
our  churches  could  not  fail  to  be  gen- 
erally improved.    And  I  am  quite  sure 
that  this  could  not  take  place  without, 
by  the  blessing  of  God,  a  great  spiri- 
tual  benefit.    When  many  voices  join 
heartily  in  prayer,  it  is  hardly  possi- 
ble to  remain  undevout ;  when  many 
voices  join  heartily  in  praise,  it  is  hard- 
ly possible  to  remain  indifferent.    Eve- 
ry one  feels  this.     In  a  congregation, 
where  the  responses  are  generally  left 
to  the  clerk  and  the  children,  how  dif- 
ficult is  it  to  pray  !  whereas,  if  the  ma- 
jority join,  one  is  drawn  in  almost  un- 
consciously, and  cannot  keep  back  his 
cordial  amen.    Thus,  also,  in  a  congre- 
gation where  few  attempt  to  sing,  how 
difficult  it  is  to  magnify  the  Lord  !  but 
who  can  resist  the  rush  of  many  voices'? 
whose  bosom  does  not  swell,  as  old  and 
young,  rich  and  poor,  mingle  their  notes 
of  adoration  and  thankfulness'? 

You  may  tell  me  that  there  is  not 
necessarily  any  religion  in  all  this  emo- 
tion. I  know  that ;  and  I  would  not 
have  you  mistake  emotion  for  religion. 
But  we  are  creatures  so  constituted  as 
to  be  acted  on  through  our  senses  and 
59 


466 


CiESAR  S   HOUSEIIOLP. 


feelings  ;  and  whilst  emotion  is  not  re- 
ligion, it  Avill  often  be  a  great  step  to- 
wards it.  The  man  who  has  imbibed, 
so  to  speak,  the  spirit  of  prayer  and  of 
praise  from  the  surrounding  assembly, 
is  far  more  likely  to  give  an  attentive 
ear  to  the  preached  word,  and  to  re- 
ceive from  ii  a  lasting  impression,  than 
another  whose  natural  coldness  has 
been  increased  by  that  of  the  mass  in 
which  he  found  himself  placed.  In 
teaching,  therefore,  a  people  to  sing 
with  the  voice  "  the  songs  of  Zion,"  we 
cannot  but  believe  that,  God  helping, 
much  is  done  towards  teaching  them 
to  s'm<r  with  the  understandinsr  and  the 
heart.  A  faculty  is  developed,  which 
God  designed  for  his  glory,  but  which 
has,  comparatively,  been  allowed  to 
remain  almost  useless.  Yes,  a  faculty 
which  God  designed  for  his  glory;  and, 
if  so  designed,  it  cannot  lie  idle  with- 
out injury,  nor  be  rightly  exercised 
without  advantage.  And  I  seem  to  learn, 
from  our  text,  that  it  is  not  enough 
that  we  praise  God  with  speech.  Christ 
and  his  Apostles  "sang  an  hymn,"  ere 
"  they  went  out  into  the  Mount  of 
Olives."  What  had  music,  cheerful  and 
animated  music,  to  do  with  so  sad  and 
solemn  an  occasion  1  Nay,  there  is  mu- 
sic in  heaven  :  they  who  stand  on  the 


"  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire,"  have 
"the  harps  of  God"  in  their  hands: 
"  they  sing  the  song  of  Moses,  the  ser- 
vant of  God,  and  the  songof  the  Lamb  :" 
why  then  should  music  ever  be  out  of 
place  with  those  whose  affections  are 
above  l 

It  would  not  be  out  of  place  in  the 
chamber  of  the  dying  believer.  He  has 
just  received,  through  the  holy  myste- 
ry of  the  Eucharist,  the  body  and  the 
blood  of  his  blessed  Redeemer.  And 
now  his  own  failing  voice,  and  the 
voices  of  relatives  and  friends,  join  in 
chanting  words  which  the  church  di- 
rects to  be  either  said  or  sung,  as  the 
conclusion  of  the  sacramental  service; 
"  Glory  be  to  God  on  high,  and  in  earth 
peace,  good-will  towards  men.  We 
praise  thee,  we  bless  thee,  we  worship 
thee,  we  glorify  thee,  vve  give  thanks 
to  thee  for  thy  great  glory,  0  Lord 
God,  heavenly  King,  God  the  Father 
Almighty."  Wonder  ye,  that,  when 
there,  was  the  option  either  to  say  or 
to  sing,  they  chose  the  singing  at  such 
a  moment  1  Nay,  they  all  felt  that  they 
had  a  rough  hill  to  climb  ;  and  they  re- 
membered, that,  when  Christ  and  his 
Apostles  had  finished  their  last  supper^ 
"  they  sang  an  hymn,"  and  then  "  went 
out  into  the  Mount  of  Olives." 


SERMON   V. 


CESAR'S    HOUSEHOLD, 


"  All  the  saints  salute  you,  chiefly  they  that  arc  of  Cwsar's  household." — Philippians,  4  ;  22, 


The  earlier  ages  of  the  church  seem 
to  have  been  distinguished  by  a  love 
which  made  all  christians  regard  them- 
selves as  members  of  one  family.  The 
saying  of  our  Lord,  "By  this  shall  all 


ye  have  love  one  to  another,"  appears 
to  have  been  successfully  taken  as  fur- 
nishing their  rule  of  conduct ;  for  "  See 
how  these  christians  love  one  another," 
was  the  common  remark  of  enemies 


men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  j  and  persecutors 


c^sak's  household. 


467 


And  the  observable  thing  is,  that  the 
Jove  of  which  we  speak  was  actually 
the  fove  of  christians  as  christians,  ir- 
respective altogether  of  other  clainns 
upon  affection.  The  moment  a  man 
embraced  Christianity,  he  was  regard- 
ed as  a  brother,  and  felt  to  be  a  bro- 
ther, by  the  whole  christian  body : 
a  thousand  hearts  at  once  beat  kind- 
ly towards  him  ;  and  multitudes,  who 
were  never  likely  to  see  him  in  the 
flesh,  were  instantly  one  with  him  in 
spirit.  It  may  admit  of  great  doubt 
whether  there  be  much,  in  our  own 
day,  of  that  which  thus  distinguished 
the  beginning  of  Christianity.  The  love 
of  christians  because  they  are  chris- 
tians, no  regard  being  had  to  country 
or  condition — is  this  still  a  strongly 
marked  characteristic  of  those  who 
profess  themselves  the  disciples  of  the 
Kedeemer  ?  There  was  something  very 
touching  and  beautiful  in  Christ's  pro- 
mise to  such  as  should  forsake  all  for 
his  sake  :  "  There  is  no  man  that  hath 
left  house,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or 
father,  or  mother,  or  children,  or  lands, 
for  my  sake  and  the  Gospel's,  but  he 
shall  receive  a  hundred-fold  now  in  this 
time,  houses,  and  brethren,  and  sisters, 
and  mothers,  and  children,  and  lands." 
How  was  such  a  promise  fulfilled,  ex- 
cept that  they,  who  had  been  cast  out 
for  their  religion  from  their  own  fami- 
lies and  possessions,  found  themselves 
admitted  at  once  into  a  new  household, 
and  endowed  with  new  property,  even 
the  household  and  the  propertjr  of  the 
whole  christian  community  \  For  eve- 
ry natural  relation  whom  they  had  lost, 
they  obtained  instantly  a  hundred  spi- 
ritual ;  and  the  goods  of  which  they 
had  been  spoiled,  returned  to  them,  a 
thousand-fold  multiplied,  in  the  posses- 
sions of  those  who  received  them  as  chil- 
dren and  brethren.  Thus  was  strikingly 
verified  a  description  long  before  given 
of  God  by  the  Psalmist:  ''He  setteth 
the  solitary  in  families" — for  they  who 
Avere  to  all  appearance  abandoned,  left 
orphaned  and  alone  in  the  world,  found 
themselves  surrounded  by  kinsmen. 

But  it  is  Only,  we  fear,  in  a  very  li- 
mited sense,  that  the  like  can  be  af- 
firmed of  the  christians  of  our  own 
day.  Yet  the  criterion  of  genuine 
Christianity  remains  just  what  it  was : 
''  We  know  that  we  have  passed  from 
death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the 


brethren  :  he  that  loveth  not  his  bro- 
ther abideth  in  death."  In  our  own 
time  the  ends  of  the  earth  are  being 
wondrously  brought  together :  there 
is  an  ever-growing  facility  of  commu- 
nication between  country  and  coun- 
try ;  and  this  must  rapidly  break  down 
many  barriers,  and  bring  far-scattered 
tribes  into  familiar  intercourse.  In 
earlier  times,  nation  was  widely  divid- 
ed from  nation  :  the  inhabitants  of  dif- 
ferent lands  were  necessarily  almost 
strangers  to  each  other  ;  and  you  could 
not  have  expected  an  approximation 
to  universal  brotherhood.  But  then  it 
was,  in  the  face  of  all  obstacles  to  per- 
sonal communion,  that  the  spirit  of 
Christianity  showed  its  comprehensive 
and  amalgamating  energies:  the  name 
of  Christ  was  as  a  spell  to  annihilate 
distance  ;  to  plant  the  cross  in  a  land, 
sufficed  to  make  that  land  one  with  dis- 
tricts removed  from  it  by  the  diameter 
of  the  globe.  Alas  for  the  colder  tem- 
per of  modern  times  !  We  have  made 
paths  across  the  waters,  we  have  ex- 
alted the  valleys,  we  have  brought  low 
the  hills,  so  that  we  can  visit  every 
region,  and  scarce  seem  to  leave  our 
home  ;  but  where  is  that  glowing  and 
ample  charity,  which  would  throb  to- 
wards christians  whom  we  have  never 
seen,  and  make  us  feel  that  our  own 
household  includes  the  far  off  and  the 
near,  all  who  worship  the  same  God, 
and  trust  in  the  same  Mediator  ] 

We  have  been  led  into  these  re- 
marks, from  observing,  in  the  aposto- 
lical writings,  the  affectionate  greet- 
in  o-s  which  the  members  of  one  church 
send  to  those  of  another.  For  the 
most  part,  these  churches  had  no  in- 
tercourse the  one  with  the  other  ;  they 
were  widely  separated  by  situation ; 
and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  bond  of  a 
common  faith,  their  members  would 
have  been  as  much  strangers  as  though 
they  had  belonged  to  different  orders 
of  being.  And  yet  you  would  judge, 
from  the  warm  remembrances,  the 
kindly  messages,  which  pass  between 
them,  that  they  were  associated  by 
most  intimate  relationship,  that  they 
were  friends  who  had  spent  years 
together,  or  kinsmen  who  had  been 
brought  up  beneath  the  same  roof. 
When  St.  Paul  wrote  thus  to  the  Co- 
lossians,  "  For  I  would  that  ye  knew 
what  great  conflict  I  have  for  you,  and 


468 


C^SAR  3    HOUSEHOLD. 


for  them  at  Laodicea,  and  for  as  many 
as  have  not  seen  my  face  in  the  flesh," 
you  would  have  thought,  from  the  en- 
ergy of  his  expressions,  that  it  must 
have  been  for  some  dear  and  long-tried 
acquaintance  that  he  was  thus  deeply 
interested,  had  he  not  immediately  de- 
scribed the  objects  of  his  solicitude,  as 
those  who  had  not  seen  his  face  in  the 
flesh.  And,  in  like  manner,  when  you 
read  the  salutations  sent  by  one  church 
to  another,  the  warm  and  cordial  greet- 
ings, you  would  conclude  that  these 
churches  had  held  familiar  intercourse, 
that  their  members  had  conversed  much 
together,  and  mingled  in  the  intimacies 
of  life,  if  you  did  not  know,  from  other 
sources  of  information,  that  they  were 
strangers  to  each  other,  except  as  all 
belonging  to  Christ's  mystical  body. 
So  strong  a  link  of  association  was 
Christianity  then  felt  to  be  !  Christians 
knew  that  there  were  christians  in 
distant  lands,  whom  they  were  never 
likely  to  visit,  and  who  were  never 
likely  to  visit  them — but  what  mat- 
tered it,  that  they  were  not  to  see 
one  another  in  the  flesh "?  They  were 
grafted  into  the  same  vine,  they  were 
washed  in  the  same  blood,  they  were 
quickened  by  the  same  Spirit ;  and 
feeling,  therefore,  as  though  one  mo- 
ther had  born  them,  and  one  home 
sheltered  them,  they  poured  forth 
hearty  salutations,  and  multiplied  ex- 
pressions of  the  very  tenderest  affec- 
tion. 

Il  was  thus  with  the  Romans  and 
the  Philippians.  They  were  widely  re- 
moved the  one  from  the  other;  and 
probably  there  had  been  little  or  no 
personal  intercourse  between  the  mem- 
bers of  the  churches.  Yet  you  find, 
from  our  text,  that  the  christians  at 
Rome  felt  kindly  towards  the  chris- 
tians at  Philippi,  and  charged  St.  Paul 
with  their  sentiments  of  esteem  and 
good-will.  "All  the  saints  salute 
you" — not,  you  observe,  a  few  of  the 
most  distinguished,  of  those  who  had 
advanced  farthest  in  the  charity  en- 
joined by  the  Gospel — but  "  all  the 
saints  salute  you."  O  blessed  estate 
of  a  Christian  Church,  when  every 
member  had  a  cordial  greeting  to  send 
to  persons  whom  he  had  never  beheld, 
but  whom  he  loved,  as  loving  the  Sa- 
vior with  himself. 

You   will,   however,  naturally  sup- 


pose that  we  selected  our  present  text 
not  so  much  as  containing  the  general 
salutation  of  one  church  by  another, 
as  on  account  of  its  marking  out  cer- 
tain individuals  as  specially  earnest  in 
their  greetings.  "  All  the  saints  salute 
you  ;  chiefly,  they  that  are  of  Caesar's 
household."  There  was  a  friendly  sa- 
lutation from  all  the  members  of  the 
Roman  Church  ;  but  the  most  friendly 
issued  from  those  who  appertained  to 
the  household  of  Caesar.  And  we  con- 
sider this  as  an  intimation  which  ought 
not  to  be  cursorily  passed  over.  We 
think  that  truths  and  lessons  of  no 
common  interest  may  be  drawn  from 
this  brief  reference  to  the  christians 
who  were  to  be  found  in  the  imperial 
circle.  We  design,  therefore,  to  con- 
fine ourselves  to  the  examining  this 
reference,  to  the  endeavoring  to  dis- 
cover what  it  may  imply,  and  what  it 
may  enjoin.  We  are  aware,  that,  at 
first,  it  will  probably  appear  to  you  a 
barren  statement,  the  announcement  of 
a  simple  fact,  on  which  no  comment  is 
needed,  and  from  which  little,  if  any, 
instruction  can  be  drawn.  But  if  you 
would  read  the  Bible  with  this  rule  in 
mind,  '*  All  Scripture  is  given  by  in- 
spiration of  God,  and  is  profitable  for 
doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction, 
for  instruction  in  righteousness,"  you 
would  find  that  nothing  is  stated  which 
could  be  omitted  without  loss ;  and 
that  often,  where  there  is  least  to 
strike  the  superficial  reader,  there  is 
most  to  repay  the  diligent  student. 
Without  then  further  preface,  and 
without  proposing  any  plan  of  dis- 
course, Avhich  might  perhaps  only  im- 
pede our  inquiries,  we  ask  your  atten- 
tion, whilst  endeavoring  to  show  what 
truths  and  lessons  are  furnished  by  the 
information  that  there  were  saints  in 
the  household  of  Csesar,  and  that  these 
were  foremost  in  greeting  the  saints 
at  Philippi. 

Now  you  are  to  observe  that  the 
throne  of  the  Caesars  was  at  this  time 
occupied  by  Nero,  a  monster  rather 
than  a  man,  whose  vices  and  cruelties 
will  make  his  name  infamous  to  the 
very  end  of  the  Avorld.  Certainly,  if 
ever  there  was  an  atmosphere  uncon- 
genial to  Christianity,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  been  that  of  the  court 
and  palace  of  this  bloody  debauchee. 
It  ordinarily  happens  that  the  charac- 


CjEsar's  household. 


469 


ter  of  the  prince  gives  the  tone  to  that 
of  his  courtiers  and  attendants  ;  and  it 
Avould  therefore  be  hardly  imaginable 
that  the  household  of  a  Nero  was  not 
composed  in  the  main  of  the  fierce  and 
the  dissolute.  And  it  should  further 
be  observed,  that  there  was  a  direct 
hostility  to  Christianity  on  the  part  of 
the  emperor  J. he  became  eventually  a 
most  bitter  persecutor  of  the  chris- 
tians, and  St.  Paul  himself  perished  by 
his  sword.  Where,  then,  on  all  human 
calculation,  was  there  less  likelihood 
of  the  Gospel  gaining  footing  than  in 
the  court  and  household  of  Nero  "?  Yet 
so  true  was  St.  Paul's  assertion,  that 
the  weapons  of  his  warfare  were 
"  mighty  through  God  to  the  cast- 
ing down  of  strong-holds,"  that  there 
were  men  of  Caesar's  household  wor- 
thy the  high  title  of  saints ;  men  not 
secretly,  but  openly,  christians ;  not 
ashamed  of  their  professions,  but  wil- 
ling to  give  it  all  publicity  by  send- 
ing greetings  to  christians  in  other 
cities  of  the  earth.  And  our  first  in- 
quiry will  naturally  be,  as  to  the  agency 
which  brought  round  so  unlikely  a  re- 
sult ;  how  it  came  to  pass,  that  an  en- 
trance was  achieved,  and  a  firm  footing 
gained  for  Christianity,  where  there 
might  have  seemed  a  moral  impossi- 
bility against  its  admission,  or,  at  all 
events,  its  settlement  1  Your  minds 
will  naturally  turn,  in  answer  to  this 
inquiry,  to  the  miraculous  gifts  with 
which  St.  Paul  was  endowed,  to  the 
credentials  which  he  was  enabled  to 
furnish  of  the  divine  origin  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  to  the  power  and  persua- 
siveness with  which  he  set  forth  its 
doctrines.  You  will  remember  with 
what  noble  intrepidity  he  rose  up  be- 
fore the  sages  of  Greece,  and  won  over 
even  proud  philosophy  by  his  reason- 
ing and  eloquence  ;  and  you  will  fur- 
ther call  to  mind,  how,  when  he  spake 
unflinchingly  to  Felix,  the  slave  of  base 
lusts,  the  haughty  Roman  trembled,  as 
though  the  judgment  had  already  been 
upon  him  with  its  terrors.  And  whilst 
there  are  these  registered  achieve- 
ments of  the  great  Apostle  to  the  Gen- 
tiles, you  think  it  quite  intelligible 
that  he  should  have  made  proselytes 
even  from  the  household  of  Nero  :  you 
perhaps  imagine  him  working  some 
great  miracle,  in  order  to  compel  the 
attention  of  the  emperor  and  his  court, 


and  then  preaching,  with  a  more  than 
human  oratory,  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
till  slumbering  consciences  were  start- 
led, and  bold  vices  abashed. 

Indeed  you  do  right  in  thus  ascrib- 
ing extraordinary  power  to  the  mira- 
cles and  sermons  of  St.  Paul :  we  could 
have  felt  no  surprise,  supposing  this 
Apostle  to  have  had  opportunities  of 
audience,  had  even  Nero  trembled  like 
Felix,  and  had  converts  been  won  from 
the  courtiers  of  Rome,  as  well  as  from 
the  philosophers  of  Athens.  But,  ne- 
vertheless, in  this  instance  the  expla- 
nation utterly  fails  :  St.  Paul  was  now 
a  prisoner,  kept  in  close  confinement ; 
and,  though  allowed  to  receive  those 
who  came  unto  him,  was  not  at  liberty, 
as  at  other  times,  to  labor  openly  and 
vigorously  at  propagating  the  Gospel. 
He  could  not  go,  as  you  have  supposed 
him,  like  Moses  and  Aaron,  with  the 
rod  in  his  hand,  and  compel  by  his  mir- 
acles the  attention  of  a  profligate  king, 
and  then  deliver,  in  the  name  of  the 
living  God,  the  message  of  rebuke  and 
the  prophecy  of  vengeance.  And  yet 
it  was  at  this  very  time,  when  the  chief 
instrument  in  the  difl"usion  of  Christi- 
anity seemed  comparatively  disabled, 
that  the  great  triumph  was  won,  and 
the  imperial  household  gave  members 
to  the  church.  Nay,  and  more  than 
this,  it  appears  to  have  been  actually 
in  consequence  of  his  being  a  prisoner 
for  the  faith,  rather  than  a  preacher  of 
I  the  faith,  that  St.  Paul  was  instrumental 
to  the  obtaining  this  victory.  If  you 
refer  to  the  commencement  of  this 
I  Epistle  to  the  Philippians,  you  will  find 
the  Apostle  ascribing  to  his  imprison- 
I  ment  the  very  result  of  which  we  are 
i  now  seeking  the  cause.  He  expresses 
I  himself  fearful  lest  the  Philippians 
\  should  have  thought  that  the  afilictions 
:  with  which  he  had  been  visited,  had 
impeded  the  progress  of  the  Gospel. 
He  assures  them  that  quite  the  con- 
trary efllsct  had  been  produced  :  "  I 
would  ye  should  understand,  brethren, 
that  the  things  which  have  happened 
unto  me,  have  fallen  out  rather  unto 
the  furtherance  of  the  Gospel ;  so  that 
my  bonds  in  Christ  are  manifest  in  all 
the  palace,  and  in  all  other  places." 
Thus,  you  see,  it  was  not  by  his  ser- 
mons, it  was  literally  by  his  bonds,  that 
the  attention  of  the  court  had  been 
attracted  to  Christianity  :  it  was  as  a 


470 


CiESAR  S    HOUSEHOLD. 


captive  that  he  had  mastered  rulers, 
and  with  his  chain  that  he  had  struck 
off"  their  fetters.  In  the  following  verse 
he  adds  another  statement  as  to  the 
efficaciousness  of  his  bonds:  "And 
many  of  the  brethren  in  the  Lord, 
waxing  confident  by  my  bonds,  are 
much  more  bold  ^o  speak  the  word 
without  fear."  Hence  there  were  two 
ways,  as  it  would  appear,  in  which 
his  bonds  gave  enlargement  to  Chris- 
tianity. The  patience  and  meekness 
with  which  he  submitted  to  long  and 
unjust  confinement,  drew  public  atten- 
tion, and  compelled  men  to  feel  that, 
where  there  was  such  willingness  to 
suffer,  there  must  be  the  conscious- 
ness of  advocating  truth.  And  then  the 
supports  and  consolations  which  were 
ministered  to  him  by  God,  taught  other 
christians  that  they  could  not  be  lo- 
sers through  intrepidity  in  preaching 
the  Gospel,  and  therefore  nerved  them 
to  greater  energy  in  the  work  from 
which  Paul  himself  was  temporarily 
withdrawn.  In  these  ways  were  the 
Apostle's  bonds  influential;  so  that 
when,  to  all  appearance,  he  was  able  to 
do  least,  when  his  power  of  usefulness 
seemed  the  most  limited,  then  was  it 
that  he  won  admission  for  Christianity 
into  the  circle  from  which  you  would 
have  thought  it  most  surely  excluded. 
We  cannot  but  think  that  a  great 
lesson  was  thus  given,  as  to  God's 
power  of  overruling  evil  for  good,  of 
producing  the  most  signal  results  when 
the  employed  instrumentality  appears 
the  least  adequate.  How  apt  are  we  to 
imagine,  when  a  man  is  overtaken  by 
sickness,  or  withdrawn,  through  one 
cause  or  another,  from  more  active 
duty,  that  his  period  of  usefulness  has 
closed!  How  ready  are  we  to  lament 
over  what  we  call  a  mysterious  dispen- 
sation, as  the  Roman  christians  may 
have  done  over  the  imprisonment  of 
St.  Paul!  But  who  shall  say  that  it 
does  not  often  come  to  pass,  that  the 
minister  preaches  far  more  effectually 
from  his  sick-bed,  than  ever  he  did 
from  his  pulpit?  The  report,  which 
goes  forth  amongst  his  people,  of  the 
patience  with  which  he  bore  pain,  and 
the  calmness  with  which  he  met  death, 
will  perhaps  do  more  towards  over- 
coming their  resistance  to  the  Gospel, 
than  all  his  energy  effected,  whilst 
he  gave  himself  night  and  day  to  the 


bringing  them  to  repentance.  Or  again, 
was  it  whilst  they  were  free  to  move 
through  a  land,  and  to  wrestle  boldly 
with  prevailing  errors  and  supersti- 
tions, that  martyrs  and  confessors  did 
most  for  the  cause  of  God  and  of  truth  1 
Was  it  not  rather  when  they  were  ac- 
tually in  the  clutches  of  the  persecu- 
tor, pining  in  dungeons,  or  dragged  to 
the  scaffold  (  The  flame  which  con- 
sumed them,  prevailed  most  to  the 
scattering  the  spiritual  darkness  ;  and 
their  dust  was  as  seed  whence  moral 
verdure  sprang.  Oh,  let  no  one  ever 
think,  that,  because  unable  to  exert 
himself  openly  and  actively,  as  he  once 
did,  for  God,  he  has  no  duties  to  per- 
form, no  services  to  render,  no  rewards 
to  secure.  A  true  christian  is  never,  if 
we  may  use  a  common  expression,  laid 
by  :  God  makes  use  of  him  in  sickness 
and  in  health,  in  life  and  in  death.  And 
the  influence  which  proceeds  from  him, 
when  languishing  on  his  couch,  redu- 
ced to  poverty,  or  overwhelmed  with 
affliction,  is  often  incomparably  great- 
er than  when,  in  the  fulness  of  his 
strength,  with  every  engine  at  his  dis- 
posal, he  moved  amongst  his  fellow- 
men,  and  took  the  lead  in  each  benevo- 
lent enterprise.  It  is  on  sick-beds  that 
the  sustaining  power  of  Christianity  is 
most  displayed  :  it  is  amid  multiplied 
troubles  that  its  professed  comforts  are 
put  to  the  proof:  it  is  by  dying  men 
that  its  best  promises  are  shown  to 
have  been  indeed  made  by  God.  And 
even  when  the  grave  has  closed  upon 
a  righteous  man,  is  it  not  often  true 
that  "he,  being  dead,  yet  speakethV 
His  memory  admonishes  and  encour- 
ages, and  that,  too,  more  powerfully 
than  even  his  living  example. 

Let  no  one,  then,  conclude  himself 
disabled  from  doing  God  service,  be- 
cause he  can  no  longer  perform  active 
duties,  noT  take  visible  part  in  advanc- 
ing Christ's  kingdom  upon  earth.  Re- 
signation has  its  victories  as  well  as 
intrepidity :  converts  may  be  made 
through  meekness  in  trial,  as  well  as 
through  boldness  in  enterprise.  And 
if  we  would  reconcile  ourselves  to  the 
apparent  suspension  of  our  usefulness  ; 
if  we  would  learn  that  God  may  be  em- 
ploying us  most,  when  he  seems  to  have 
most  withdrawn  us  from  employment ; 
let  us  ponder  the  fact  brought  before 
us  by  our  text.    1. think  upon  Rome,  the 


CiESAR  S    HOUSEHOLD. 


471 


metropolis    of    the    world,    upon   the 
haughty  Caesars,   giving   laws  to  well 
nigh  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.    O 
that  Christianity  might  make  way  into 
the   imperial   halls !    I    should    feel    as 
though    it  were  indeed  about  to  tri- 
umph over  heathenism,  were  it  to  pene- 
trate the  palace  of  Nero.    And  then  I 
hear  that  St.  Paul  is  approaching  to- 
wards Eome — St.  Paul,  who  has  car- 
ried the  Gospel  to  the  east  and  west, 
the  nortli  and  south,  and  every  where 
made  falsehood  quail  before  truth.  My 
expectations    ar.e    raised.     This    great 
champion  of  Christianity  may  succeed 
where  there  is  most  to  discourage,  and 
gain  over  Nero's  courtiers,  if  not  Nero 
himself.   But  then  I  hear  that  St.  Paul 
comes  as  a  prisoner :  I  see  him  used 
as  a  criminal,   and  debarred  from  all 
opportunity  of  publishing   the  Gospel 
to  the   illustrious  and   powerful.    My 
hopes  are  destroyed.    The  great  Apos- 
tle seems  to  me  completely  disarmed ; 
and   the   picture    which   I   had   fondly 
drawn   of  Christianity  growing   domi- 
nant through  God's  blessing  on  his  la- 
bors, disappears  when  I  behold    him 
detained  in  captivity.    Alas  for  human 
short-sightedness  and  miscalculation  ! 
Never  again  let  me  dare  reckon  God's 
servants  least  powerfully,  when  least 
visibly   instrumental  in  promoting  his 
cause.    St.  Paul  is  a  prisoner  ;  St.  Paul 
cannot  go    boldly  to    the    court,   and 
preach  to  the  mighty  ;  but,  in  less  than 
two  years,  he  is  able  to  declare,  "  My 
bonds  are  manifest  in  all  the  palace," 
and  to  enumerate  amongst  the   saints, 
who   send    greetings   to   the    Philippi- 
ans,  "  chiefly  them  that  are  of  Cccsar's 
household," 

We  go  on  to  observe  to  you — and 
the  observation  is  of  prime,  importance 
— that  a  man  cannot  be  placed  in  cir- 
cumstances so  disadvantageous  to  pie- 
ty as  to  put  it  out  of  his  power  to  give 
heed  to  the  duties  of  religion.  We 
have  already  spoken  to  you  of  the  cha- 
racter of  Nero,  and  of  the  profligacy 
which  must  have  deformed  his  house- 
hold and  court.  We  have  admitted 
that,  if  ever  there  were  an  atmosphere 
uncongenial  to  Christianity,  it  must 
have  been  that  of  the  Roman  court, 
with  such  an  emperor  at  its  head.  We 
could  not  have  been  surprised,  had  the 
religion  of  Jesus  striven  in  vain  for 
admission  j  and  it  was  the  little  appa- 


rent likelihood  of  there  being  saints  in 
the   household   of  Ca;sar,   which   sug- 
gested the  foregoing  inquiry  as  to  the 
instrumentality  through  which  the  Gos- 
pel succeeded   in   making  these   con- 
verts.   But,  nevertheless,  the  converts 
were  made,  and  that  too,  you  are  care- 
fully to  remember,  not    through   any 
extraordinary  agency,  seeing  that  the 
employed    preaching  was  not   that  of 
St.  Paul,  but  only  of  subordinate  min- 
isters.   Certainly  such  an  instance  as 
this  should  show  the  worthlessness  of 
an  excuse  with  which  men  would  some- 
times palliate  their  neglect  of  religion 
— that  they  are  exposed  to  such  temp- 
tations, surrounded  by  such  hinderances, 
or  liable  to  such  opposition,  that  it  is 
vain  for  them  to  attempt  the  great  du- 
ties of  repentance  and  faith.    We  chal- 
lenge any  man  to  show  that  he  is  more 
unfavorably    circumstanced    than    the 
members    of   Nero's    household    must 
have  been.    We  challenge  him  to  show 
any  likelihood   that   the  profession  of 
religion  would  expose  him  to  greater 
dangers,  bring  on  him  more  obloquy, 
or  cause  severer  loss,  than  might  have 
been  expected  to  follow  the  exchange 
of  heathenism  for  Christianity,  by  those 
who  bore  ofTice  in  the  Roman  empe- 
ror's court.    And  whilst  we  have  be- 
fore us  full   evidence,   that   even  the 
servants  of  Nero  could  overcome  every 
disadvantage,  and  "  shine  as  lights"  in 
the  church  of  the  Redeemer,  we  can 
never  admit  that  the  temporal  circum- 
stances of  any  man  disqualify  him  for 
the  being  a  true  christian,  or  put  such 
obstacles  in  his  way  as  excuse  his  not 
advancing  to  eminence  as  a  believer. 
We  readily  acknowledge  that  more 
appears  done  for  one  man  than  for  ano- 
ther ;  that  some  circumstances  may  be 
said  to  conduce  to  the  making  men  pi- 
ous, whilst   others   increase   the  diffi- 
culty of  separation  from  the  world,  and 
consecration  to  God.    But  we  can  be 
certain,   from   the   known   strength  of 
divine  grace,  and  its  sufficiency  to  all 
the  ends  of  the  renewal  and  perfecting 
of  our  nature,  that,  under  every  possi- 
ble disadvantage,  there  may  be  a  striv- 
ing with    evil,   and   a  following    after 
good,   in   obedience   to    the    precepts, 
and  in  hope    of  the   recompences,    of 
the  Gospel.    We  will  not,  at  present, 
discuss  whether  it  be  a  man's  duty, 
when  he  feels  his  circumstances  unfa- 


472 


CiESAR  S    HOUSEHOLD. 


vorable  to  personal  religion,  to  labor  j 
to  escape  from  those  circumstances; 
whether  the  courtier  should  flee  the  i 
court  where  there  are  incitements  to  [ 
evil,  the  merchant  the  traffic  which 
burdens  him  with  cares,  or  the  servant 
the  household  where  godliness  is  held 
in  contempt.  We  may  find  opportuni- 
ty hereafter  of  treating  this  point ;  we 
now  only  say,  that  the  case  may  often 
be  one  in  which  there  is  no  escape  from 
the  circumstances  which  make  piety 
difficult,  and  in  which  the  duty  of  re- 
maining in  the  disadvantageous  posi- 
tion may  be  as  clear  as  that  of  strug- 
gling against  its  disadvantages.  But  we 
contend  that,  whensoever  such  is  the 
case,  it  is  no  apology  for  an  individu- 
al's continuing  void  of  personal  reli- 
gion, that  he  would  have  great  difficul- 
ties to  wrestle  with  in  becoming  reli- 
gious. The  individual  may  fasten  on 
these  difficulties,  and  urge  them  in  ex- 
cuse, when  conscience  admonishes  him 
as  to  the  great  duties  of  godliness.  But 
the  excuse  will  not  bear  investigation ; 
forasmuch  as  it  assumes  that  God  has 
put  it  out  of  the  man's  power  to  pro- 
vide for  his  soul's  safety  in  eternity  ; 
and  to  assume  this  is  to  contradict  the 
Divine  word,  and  throw  scorn  on  the 
Divine  attributes. 

We  take,  for  example,  the  instance 
most  naturally  suggested  by  our  text, 
that  of  a  servant  in  an  irreligious  fami- 
ly. We  have  great  sympathy  with  per- 
sons so  circumstanced  :  we  count  their 
situation  one  of  no  common  difficulty. 
Their  superiors  set  them  a  bad  exam- 
ple, an  example  of  sabbath-breaking,  of 
neglect  of  all  religion,  and,  perhaps, 
even  of  undisguised  vice.  Few  oppor- 
tunities are  aflbrded  them  of  attending 
public  worship  ;  and  they  have  but  lit- 
tle time  for  private  devotion.  If  in- 
clined to  give  heed  to  religion,  they 
cannot  but  perceive  that  any  indication 
of  piety  would  perhaps  lose  them  the 
favor  of  their  master,  and  bring  upon 
them  the  ridicule  of  their  associates. 
We  say  again  that  we  have  great  sym- 
pathy with  an  individual  thus  situated  : 
we  feel  that  he  has  more  than  a  com- 
mon battle  to  fight,  if  he  stand  forth 
as  a  candidate  for  immortality.  But 
there  is  nothing  in  his  position  to  make 
it  impracticable  that  he  become  truly 
religious,  nor  excusable  that  he  defer 
the  season  of  providing  for  the  soul. 


Be  his  difficulties  what  they  may,  we 
can  be  confident  that  they  would  rapid- 
ly disappear  before  the  earnest  resolve 
of  seeking  "  first  the  kingdom  of  God 
and  his  righteousness."    He  has  but  to 
begin,  and  presently  would  he  find  that 
obstacles,  which  appeared  insurmount- 
able, are  gradually  lowered,  and  that, 
if  he  have  to  encounter  all  which  he 
dreaded,  it  is  in  a  strength  which  grows 
with  the  exigence.    What  we  fear  for 
this  man,   when  we  know  him   plied 
with  the  remonstrances  of  conscience, 
it  is  not  that,  if  he  set  himself  fearless- 
ly to  regulate  his  conduct  by  the  re- 
vealed will  of  God,  he  may  find  that  he 
has  not  time  enough  for  religion,  or 
that  the  trials  of  his  station  are  too 
great  to  be  surmounted  ;  it  is  only  that 
he  may  shield  himself  behind  his  con- 
fessed disadvantages,  and  hold  himself 
blameless  in  not  making  an  attempt, 
where  the  likelihood  of  success  seems 
so  slight.   We  would  come  down  upon 
him,  in  his  moment  of  indecision,  when 
conscience  is  rebuking  his  neglect  of 
the   one  thing  needful,  and   when  he 
strives  to   parry  the  rebuke,  by  asking 
how  he  can  attend  to  religion  whilst 
the  very  air  which  he  breathes  seems 
impregnated   with   wickedness!     We 
will  hear  nothing  of  an  impossibility. 
Time  may  be  made,  prayer  may  be  of- 
fered, the  Bible  may  be  read,  vice  may 
be  forsaken,  contempt  may  be  braved, 
and  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God  fails 
no   man  who   is  not  false  to  himself. 
And  if  he  plead  the  ungodliness  of  the 
family  in  which  he  is  placed,  and  main- 
tain it  not  to  be  expected  that  righte- 
ousness   should    be    acquired,    where 
there  is  every  thing  to  fasten  down  a 
man  to  evil,  we  require   of  him  to  go 
with  us  in  thought  to  the  household  of 
Nero.    We  tell  him  of  the  depravity  of 
that  scourge  and  disgrace  of  human- 
kind,  we   describe   to  him  the  fierce 
profligacy  which  pervaded  his  court : 
I  we  show  him  how  it  was  like  rushing 
into  the  flames,  then  and  there  to  em- 
I  brace  Christianity:  and  we  leave  him 
[  to  think,  if  he  dare,  that  any  scene,  or 
!  association,  can  exeuse  the  neglect  of 
'  religion,   when   St.   Paul  could    single 
out,   from   the  whole  mass  of  Roman 
j  christians,  "  chiefly  them  that  were  of 
I  CfEsar's  household." 
i      We  proceed  to  what  we  reckon  the 
'  most  important  of  the  remarks  which 


C^SAR  S    HOUSEHOLD. 


47; 


we  have  to  offer  on  the  passage  which    religion  which  too  often  abound  in  the 
forms  our  subject   of  discourse.     You  )  palaces  of  princes.    But  it  would  make 
will  observe  that  the  saints,  of  whoqi    all  the  difference  if  he  were  a  courtier 
St.  Paul   speaks   in  the  text,  not   only    at  the  time  of  his  being  first   made  to 
belonged  to  Caesar's  household  at  the    feel  that   he   had  a  soul:  a  court  is  a 
time    of   their    conversion    to    christi-    lawful,  though  a  dangerous,  residence ; 
anity,  but  remained  in  that  household  j  and   it   may   not  only  be  allowable,  it 
after   their   conversion.     It    is  evident  j  may  even  be  required,  that  he  should 
that  they  did  not  feel  it  their  duty  to    continue  where  he  is,  and  take  advan- 
abandon    the    stations    in  Avhich   Pro-  ,  tage  of  his  position  to  adorn  and  dif- 
vidence    had   placed    them,    and    seek  1  fuse   Christianity.    It    might  not   look 
others    apparently   more    favorable    to    like  a  saint  to  seek  employment  in  the 
the  growth  of  religion.    And  we   may    household  of  Coesar  ;  but  it  may  be  the 
conclude  that  their  decision  was  right,    very  part  of  a  saint  not  to  withdraw 
for,  having  direct  intercourse  with  St.  '  from  the  household,  and  descend  into 
Paul,    who    could    furnish    them    with    humble  life.    A  religious  servant  might 
rules  of  conduct  derived  immediately    not  be  justified  in  wilfully  entering  an 
from  God,  we  cannot  doubt  that  they  j  irreligious  family,  where  he  knew  that 
did  what  ought  to  have  been  done.   So  j  piety    would     be    discountenanced    in 
that   it  does  not  at  all  follow  that   a    every  possible  way  ;   but  if  he   have 
man  is  to  withdraw  himself  from  cir-  |  become  religious  whilst  serving  in  the 
cumstances  of   danger  and   difficulty,  j  irreligious  family,  it  may  be  lawful  for 
and  strive  to  place  himself  in  a  condi-  ;  him  to  remain,  nay,  it  may  be  unlaw- 
tion  where  there  shall  be  less  tempta-  I  ful  for  him  to  leave  :  it  is   lawful   for 
tion  or  opposition.    We  cannot,  indeed,  I  him  to  remain,  if  he  be  not  required  to 
think   that  a  converted  man  w'ould  be  '  act   against   his  conscience  ;  it   is  un- 
justified in  seeking  employment  where    lawful  for  him  to  leave,  if  distinct  op- 
he  knew  that  it  would  be  specially  diffi-  '  portunity    be    afforded    him    of    doing 
cult  to  cultivate  religion:    but  we  can  i  honor  to  God,  and  promoting  Christ's 
believe  that  he  might  be  justified  in  re-    cause.    And  this  latter  supposition  will 
taining  his  employment,  supposing  him  I  probably  hold  good  in  the  majority  of 
thus  placed  at  the  time  of  conversion,    cases.     When  one  member  of  an  irre- 


To  desert  his  employment,  because  it 
made  religion  difficult,  would  be  to  de- 
clare that  the  grace,  which  had  con- 
verted him,  in  spite  of  disadvantages, 
would  not  suffice  to  the  establishing 
and  perfecting  him ;  and  thus  would 
his  first  step  mark  a  distrust  of  God's 
Spirit,  which  would  augur  but  ill  for 
his  after  progress.  If  an  employment 
were  in  itself  sinful,  if  it  actually  could 


ligious  household  is  converted,  we  re- 
gard him  as  the  particle  of  leaven, 
placed  by  God  in  the  midst  of  an  un- 
sound mass ;  and  the  circumstances 
must  he  very  peculiar,  which  would 
seem  to  us  to  warrant  the  withdraw- 
ment  of  this  particle,  so  that  the  mass 
should  be  again  void  of  any  righteous 
element. 

We  have  great  pleasure  in  contem- 


not   be  carried   on   without  sin,   there  \  plating    the   moral   power  with  w^hicli 


would  be  no  room  for  debate ;  it  must 
be  abandoned  at  once,  though  utter 
destitution  might  seem  the  inevitable 
consequence.  But  if  the  employment 
be  only  dangerous,  if  it  only  require  a 
greater  measure  of  circumspection, 
vigilance,  and  boldness,  the  forsaking 


God  has  invested  the  meanest  of  his 
people.  It  is  too  common  to  judge 
power  by  station,  and  to  compute  the 
influence  which  a  man  may  exert  over 
others,  by  the  temporal  advantages 
which  fall  to  his  lot.  But  there  is  a 
power   in    religion,    irrespective    alto- 


it  may  prove  timidity  rather  than  pru- I  gether  of  worldly  station:  a  power 
dence  ;  a  disposition  to  evade,  rather  1  which  may  indeed  be  used  more  ex- 
than  to  conquer.  I  tensively,  if  its  possessor  have  com- 

We   doubt,  for  example,  whether  a  1  m.and    of    other    forces    besides,    but 


man,  roused  to  the  greSit  work  of  the 
saving  the  soul,  could  lawfully  seek  to 
place  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  temp- 
tations of  a  court,  and  surround  him- 
self with  those  hinderances  to  spiritual 


which  may  work  the  very-  finest  re- 
sults, supposing  him  to  have  nothing 
else  to  wield.  We  refer  chiefly  to  the 
power  of  a  consistent  example ;  and 
we  should  confidently  say  to  the  religi- 
'     60 


474. 


C^SAIv's    HOUSEHOLD. 


ous  servant  in  the  irreligious   family, 
that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  overrate  the 
service  which  he,  or  she,  may  render 
to  the   cause  of  Christianity.     We  are 
not   supposing    the    servant    to    travel 
beyond   the   immediate   duties    of  his 
station,  for  it  is  no  recommendation  of 
religion  when  persons  put  themselves 
forward,  and  assume  offices  to  which 
they  have  never  been  called.   We  only 
suppose  the  servant  to  carry  his  Chris- 
tianity in  all  his  occupations,  and  this 
will  be  sure  to  make  him  the  most  re- 
spectful,  faithful,  and  diligent   in   the 
domestic    establishment.     He   will    be 
quickly  distinguished   from  others  by 
closer  attention  to  his  master's  inter- 
ests, by  greater  care   of  his  master's 
property,   by   a   stricter   adherence  to 
truth,  and  by  a  more  obliging  and  sub- 
missive deportment.     It  is  nothing  to 
tell  us  that,  often,  where  there   is  a  re- 
ligious   profession,   there    are    few   or 
none   of  these   characteristics  ;  this  is 
only  telling  us  that  hypocrisy  is  con- 
fined to  no  class  of  life,  but  may  flour- 
ish equally  in  the  kitchen  and  parlor. 
Let  there  be  real  religion,  and  what- 
ever a  man's  station,  it  will  show  itself 
in  the  performance   of  the  duties  of 
that  station.     The  rule  admits  no  ex- 
ceptions, for  religion  seats  itself  in  the 
heart,   and    thence    influences   all    the 
actions.    Therefore,   if   there  be   one, 
in    a    mass    of    irreligious    domestics, 
whom  the  Spirit  of  God  has  brought 
to  repentance  and  faith,  that  one  will 
rapidly   distinguish    himself   from   the 
rest  by  superior  civility,  diligence  and 
honesty. 

And  it  is  just  because  true  religion 
will  thus  necessarily  display  itself  in 
the  practice,  that  we  ascribe  to  it  a 
power,  in  every  rank  of  life,  of  acting 
silently  upon  others,  and  assimilating 
them  to  itself.  Let  the  irreligious 
master  perceive  that  there  is  no  one  in 
his  household  so  trustworthy  as  the 
professed  disciple  of  Christ,  no  one  on 
whose  word  he  can  place  such  depend- 
ence, no  one  who  serves  him  with 
equal  industry  and  alacrity  ;  and  it  can 
hardly  fail  but  that  this  master  will 
gradually  receive  an  impression  favor- 
able to  religion,  whatever  may  have 
been  hitherto  his  opposition  and  pre- 
judice. There  is  something  mightily 
ennobling  in  this ;  for  the  meanest  in 
a  household,  whose  days  are  consumed 


in  the  lowest  drudgeries  of  life,  is  thus 
represented    as  invested   with  a  high 
power  of  winning  triumphs  for  Christi- 
anity, and  turning  many  to  righteous- 
ness.   There  may  be  families  to  which 
the  preacher  of  the  Gospel  can  gain  no 
access  ;  they  will  not  come  to  listen  to 
him  on  the  Sabbath,  and  would  scowl 
on   him  as  an    intruder  in  the  week. 
And    what    instrumentality    is    there, 
through  which  to  act  on  such  families, 
barred  up,  as  they  are,  against  both  the 
public  and  the  private  ministrations  of 
the  word  1  Nothing  would  be  so  hope- 
ful as  the  instrumentality  of  pious  do- 
mestics ;  and,    therefore,    God    forbid 
that    such    domestics    should    hastily 
withdraw  themselves  from  the  house- 
holds.    We  look  to  the   pious  servant 
to  do  what  the  minister  of  the  Gospel 
has  no  opportunities  of  doing,  to  pub- 
lish   and  recommend  the  doctrine    of 
Christ,  not    by    officious  interference, 
and  unbecoming  reproof,  and  unasked 
for    advice ;  but   by  blamelessness    of 
conduct,    by   devotedness  to  duty,  by 
fidelity,  by  humility,  by  obligingness. 
We  send  that  servant  as  our  mission- 
ary into  the  very  midst  of  the  inacces- 
sible family  ;  not  to  deliver  messages 
with  his  lip,  but  to  deliver  them  through 
his  life  ;  and  we  can  almost  venture  to 
predict,  that  if  he  do  indeed,  according 
to    St.    Paul's    direction    to     servants, 
"  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  the  Savior 
in  all  things,"  it  will  gradually  come 
to  pass  that  religion  conciliates  some 
measure    of  respect,  that  those  above 
him,  and  around  him,  inquire  into  his 
motives,   and    perhaps   even    seek  for 
themselves  what  works  so  beautifully 
in  another. 

But  if  we  may  fairly  contend  that 
such  an  influence  as  this  is  wielded  by 
a  righteous  domestic  in  an  unrighte- 
ous family,  we  can  feel  no  surprise, 
that,  when  God  had  won  to  himself 
servants  from  amongst  the  servants 
of  Nero,  he  permitted,  and  perhaps 
even  commanded,  their  remaining  in 
the  service  of  the  profligate  emperor. 
Who  knows  whether  there  may  not,  at 
first,  have  been  a  solitary  convert,  one 
who  held  but  a  mean  place  in  the  im- 
perial household,  and  who  may  have 
desired  to  escape  at  once  from  a  scene 
where  there  seemed  to  be  so  many  by 
whom  he  might  be  injured,  so  few  to 
whom  he  could  do  good]    But  he  may 


Cy-ESAR  S    HOUSEHOLD. 


475 


have  been  admonished  to  remain  ;  and 
by  the  mere  force  of  a  consistent  de- 
portment,  he   may  have    borne  down 
much  of  the  opposition  to  Christianity, 
till  at  last,  though  he  prevailed  not  to 
the  bringing  over  the  blQ£»dy  emperor 
himself,  he  was  surrounded  by  a  goodly 
company  of  believers,  and  a  church  of 
the  Redeemer  rose  in  the  very  midst 
of   the    palace    of  the    Csesars.      And 
whether  or  not  it  were  thus,  through 
the  influence  of  a  solitary  convert,  that 
the  religion  of  Jesus  established  itself 
in    the    most   unpromising   scene,    the 
great    truth    remains    beyond    contro- 
versy, that  a  post  is  not  to  be  forsaken 
because  it  cannot  be  occupied  without 
peril   to   personal   piety.     Let,  there- 
fore,   any   amongst    yourselves,    who 
may  be  disposed   to   abandon  the  sta- 
tion in  which  God   has  placed  them, 
because  of  its  dangers  and  trials,  con- 
sider whether  they  may  not  have  been 
thus  circumstanced  for  the   very  pur- 
pose  of  being  useful    to    others;  and 
whether,    then,    it    does    not    become 
them  to  persist  in  hope,  rather  than  to 
desert  it  in  fear.     For    very    difficult 
would  it  be  to  show  that  any  can  have 
more  cause  to   seek   a   change  of  ser- 
vice, than  men  converted  from  amongst 
the  courtiers  and  domestics  of  Nero  ; 
and,     nevertheless,     these    christians, 
with  an  apostle  for    their    immediate 
instructor,  adhered  steadfastly  to  the 
employments  in  which  conversion  had 
found  them  ;  so  that  they  were  to  be 
known    by    the    striking    description, 
''  The  saints  that  are  of  Cajsar's  house- 
hold." 

But  we  have  not  yet  exhausted  the 
instructive  truths  which  seem  fairly 
deducible  from  the  simple  statement 
of  our  text.  We  felt,  as  we  insisted 
on  the  last  lesson — the  lesson  as  to  the 
duty  of  remaining  in  a  perilous  posi- 
tion— that  some  might  feel  as  though 
we  required  them  to  injure  themselves 
for  the  benefit  of  others  ;  and  when  it 
is  the  soul  which  is  at  stake,  there  may 
be  doubts  whether  a  sacrifice  such  as 
this  can  be  lawful.  We  maintained 
it  to  be  right  that  Caesar's  household 
should  not  be  deserted  by  the  saints, 
because  those  saints,  by  remaining 
there,  might  be  instrumental  to  the 
conversion  of  others  to  Christianity. 
But,  surely,  it  is  a  christian's  first 
duty  to  give  heed  to  his  own  growth 


in  grace;  jiow  then  can  it  be  right 
that,  with  the  vague  hope  of  benefiting 
others,  he  should  continue  amongst 
hinderances  to  his  own  spiritual  ad- 
vancement 1 

Brethren,  of  this  we  maybe  certain, 
that,  wheresoever  God  makes  it  a  man's 
duty,  there  will  he  make  it  his  interest 
to  remain.  If  he  employ  one  of  his 
servants  in  turning  others  from  sin,  he 
will  cause  the  employment  to  con- 
duce to  that  servant's  holiness.  Is 
there  no  indication  of  this  in  the 
words  of  our  text  1  We  lay  the  em- 
phasis now  upon  "chiefly,"  "chiefly 
they  that  are  of  Caesar's  household."  Of 
all  the  Roman  christians,  the  foremost 
in  that  love,  which  is  the  prime  fruit  of 
the  Spirit,  were  those  who  were  found 
amongst  the  courtiers  and  attendants 
of  Nero,  and  who  probably  remained 
in  his  service  for  the  express  purpose 
of  endeavoring  to  promote  the  cause 
of  the  Gospel.  Then  it  is  very  evident 
that  these  Christians  sustained  no  per- 
sonal injury,  but  rather  outstripped,  in 
all  which  should  characterize  believers, 
others  who  might  have  seemed  more 
advantageously  placed. 

Neither  do  we  feel  any  surprise  at 
this  :  it  is  just  the  result  for  which  we 
might  have  naturally  looked.  Is  it  the 
absence  of  temptation,  is  it  the  want 
of  trial,  which  is  most  favorable  to  the 
growth  of  vital  Christianity  %  is  it, 
when  there  is  least  to  harass  a  chris- 
tian, to  put  him  on  his  guard,  or  keep 
him  on  the  alert,  that  he  is  most  like- 
ly to  become  spiritually  greati  If  so, 
then  men  were  right  in  former  times, 
who  fancied  it  most  for  the  interest  of 
the  soul  that  they  should  absolutely 
seclude  themselves  from  the  world, 
and,  withdrawing  to  some  lonely  her- 
mitage, hold  communion  with  no  being 
but  God.  But  this  we  believe  to  have 
been  an  error.  The  anchorite,  who 
never  mixed  with  his  fellow-men,  and 
who  was  never  exposed  to  the  tempta- 
tions resulting  from  direct  contact 
with  the  world,  might  easily  persuade 
himself  of  his  superior  sanctity,  and  as 
easily  deceive  himself.  He  might  sup- 
pose his  evil  passion  subdued,  his  cor- 
rupt propensities  eradicated,  whereas, 
the  real  state  of  the  case  might  be, 
that  the  evil  passions  were  only  quiet 
because  not  solicited,  and  that  the  pro- 
pensities were  not  urged  because  there 


476 


CiESAR  S    HOUSEHOLD. 


was  nothing  to  excite  them.  Had  he 
been  brought  away  from  his  hermit- 
age, and  again  exposed  to  temptation, 
it  is  far  from  improbable  that  he,  who 
had  won  to  himself  a  venerated  name 
by  his  austerities,  and  who  was  pre- 
sumed to  have  quite  mastered  the  ap- 
petites and  desires  of  an  unruly  nature, 
would  have  yielded  to  the  solicitations 
with  which  he  found  himself  beset, 
and  giveh  melancholy  proof  that  the 
strength  of  his  virtue  lay  in  its  not 
being  tried.  And,  at  all  events,  there 
is  good  ground  for  reckoning  it  an  er- 
roneous supposition,  that  piety  must 
flourish  best  where  least  exposed  to  in- 
jury. The  household  of  Ca3sar  may 
be  a  far  better  place  for  the  growth 
of  personal  religion  than  the  cell  of 
a  monk  :  in  the  one,  the  christian  has 
his  graces  put  continually  to  the  proof, 
and  this  tends  both  to  the  discovering 
and  the  strengthening  them;  in  the 
other,  there  is  comparatively  nothing 
to  exercise  virtue,  and  therefore  may 
its  very  existence   be  only  a  delusion. 

Why  then  is  the  courtier  to  think, 
that,  by  making  it  his  duty  to  remain 
in  the  dangerous  atmosphere  of  a 
court,  we  require  him  to  sacrifice  him- 
self for  the  benefit  of  others  ]  or  the 
servant,  that,  by  bidding  him  stay  in 
the  irreligious  family,  we  doom  him 
to  the  being  hindered  in  the  spiritual 
race  1  Far  enough  from  this.  Let  the 
remaining  be  matter  of  conscience,  and 
the  advantageousness  shall  be  matter 
of  experience.  ''  The  God  of  all  grace," 
who  has  promised  that  his  people  shall 
not  be  tempted  above  that  they  are 
able,  will  bestow  assistance  propor- 
tioned to  the  wants.  The  constant 
exposure  to  danger  will  induce  con- 
stant watchfulness :  multiplied  difficul- 
ties will  teach  the  need  of  frequent 
prayer :  the  beheld  wickedness  of 
others  will  keep  alive  an  earnest  de- 
sire, that  the  earth  may  be  "full  of 
the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the 
waters  cover  the  sea." 

And  why,  then,  should  not  personal 
piety  flourish  1  why  should  it  be  stunt- 
ed 1  why,  rather,  should  it  not  be  more 
than  commonly  vigorous  1  Oh,  let  no 
man  think  that  he  cannot  be  expected 
to  make  great  progress  in  religion,  be- 
cause he  is  obliged  to  be  much  in  con- 
tact with  wickedness,  because  his  call- 
ing in  life  is  one  of  great  moral  danger, 


keeping  him  associated  with  those  who 
hate  good,  and  employed  on  what  tends 
to  increase  worldly-mindedness  1  It 
will  probably  be  from  situations  such 
as  this,  that  God  shall  gather  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  the  most  eminent 
of  his  servants.  It  may  not  be  from 
cloistered  solitudes,  where  piety  had 
but  little  to  contend  with,  that  the  dis- 
tinguished ones  shall  advance  when 
Christ  distributes  the  prizes  of  eter- 
nity— it  may  rather  be  from  the  court^ 
where  worldliness  reigned  ;  from  the 
exchange,  where  gold  was  the  idol ; 
and  from  the  family,  where  godliness 
was  held  in  derision.  Not  that  there 
may  not  be  exalted  piety  where  there 
has  not  been  extraordinary  trial.  But 
the  extraordinary  trial,  met  in  God's 
strength,  which  is  always  suflicient, 
will  be  almost  sure  to  issue  in  such 
prayerfulness,  such  faith,  such  vigi- 
lance, such  devotedness,  as  can  hardly 
be  looked  for  where  there  is  but  little 
to  rouse,  to  alarm,  and  to  harass. 
Therefore,  let  those  be  of  good  cheer, 
who,  if  pious  at  all,  must  be  pious  in 
spite  of  a  thousand  hinderances  and  dis- 
advantages. Let  these  hinderances  and 
disadvantages  only  make  them  earnest 
in  prayer  and  diligent  in  labor,  and 
they  will  prove  their  best  helps  in 
working  out  salvation.  Witness  the 
"chiefly"  of  our  text.  There  were 
none  in  Rome,  in  whom  the  flame  of 
christian  love  was  so  bright,  as  in 
those  confined  to  the  most  polluted 
of  atmospheres.  God  appointed  them 
their  station :  they  submitted  in  obe- 
dience to  his  will:  and  the  result  was, 
that  the  lamp,  which  you  would  have 
thought  must  have  gone  out  in  so  pes- 
tilential an  air,  burnt  stronger  and 
clearer  than  in  any  other  scene. 

Look,  then,  upon  your  enemies  as 
your  auxiliaries,  upon  your  dangers  as 
your  guardians,  upon  your  difficulties 
as  your  helps.  Christian  men,  and 
christian  women,  ye  of  whom  God 
asks  most  in  asking  you  to  be  his  ser- 
vants, for  you  he  reserves  most,  if, 
indeed,  ye  be  "faithful  unto  death." 
The  "chiefly"  of  the  text  may  be 
again  heard  ;  they  who  have  been  first 
in  godliness  shall  be  first  in  glory : 
and  when  Christ  is  saying,  "  Come,  ye 
blessed  of  my  Father,"  it  may  be  with 
this  addition,  "  chiefly  they  that  were 
of  Coesar's  household." 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT- 


477 


SERMON   VI. 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT 


"  On  that  night  could  not  the  king  sleep ;  and  he  commandod  to  bring  the  hook  of  records  of  the 
chronicles;   and  they  were  read  before  the  king." — Esther,  6:1. 


It  will  be  necessary  for  us  to  enter 
somewhat  minutely  into  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  what  is  here 
mentioned,  that  you  may  be  prepared 
for  the  inferences  which  we  design  to 
draw  from  the  passage.  The  Book  of 
Esther  is  among  the  most  interesting 
of  the  narratives  contained  in  the  Old 
Testament,  furnishing  proofs,  as  re- 
markable as  numerous,  of  the  ever- 
watchful  Providence  of  God.  The  kin^ 
of  the  vast  Persian  Empire,  of  which 
Judea  was  at  this  time  a  province,  had 
put  from  him  his  queen,  in  a  moment 
of  caprice  and  indignation,  and  ad- 
vanced to  her  place  a  Jewess,  named 
Esther,  remarkable  for  her  beauty,  and, 
as  it  afterwards  appeared,  for  her  pie- 
ty and  courage.  This  Esther,  who  had 
been  left  an  orphan,  had  been  brought 
up  as  his  daughter  by  her  cousin  Mor- 
decai,  who,  having  been  "  carried  away 
from  Jerusalem  with  the  captivity" 
vmder  Nebuchadnezzar,  had  obtained 
some  appointment  in  the  royal  house- 
hold at  Shushan.  The  relationship, 
however,  between  the  two  was  not 
generally  known ;  and  Mordecai  in- 
structed Esther  not  to  avow  herself  a 
Jewess,  lest  the  circumstance  might 
operate  to  her  disadvantage.  This  very 
concealment  appears  to  have  been  or- 
dered of  God,  and  had  much  to  do  with 
subsequent  events. 

The  king  had  a  favorite,  named  Ha- 
man  the  Agagite,  a  man  of  boundless 
ambition  and  pride,  who  acquired  com- 
plete ascendancy  over  the  monarch. 
Honors  and  riches  were  heaped  on  this 
minion ;  it  was  even  ordered,  as  it 
would  seem,  that  he  should  receive 
the  same  reverential  prostrations  as 
were  rendered  to  the  king,  and  which 


appear  to  have  gone  beyond  mere  to- 
kens of  respect,  and  to  have  been  ac- 
tually of  an  idolatrous  character.  Mor- 
decai, whose  religion  forbade  his  giv- 
ing, in  any  measure,  to  man  what  ap- 
pertained to  God,  refused  to  join  the 
other  servants  of  the  king  in  thus  hon- 
oring Haman,  and  drew  remark  upon 
himself  by  remaining  standing  whilst 
they  fell  to  the  ground.  Mordecai  had 
been  unjustly  treated:  he  had  claim  to 
some  portion,  at  least,  of  the  honors 
conferred  upon  Haman,  though  there 
is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  anger,  or 
envy,  had  anything  to  do  with  his  con- 
duct towards  the  favorite.  He  had  been 
unjustly  treated — for  he  had  discover- 
ed a  conspiracy,  on  the  part  of  two  of 
the  royal  chamberlains,  to  assassinate 
the  king,  and  by  apprising  Esther  of 
the  bloody  design,  had  prevented  its 
execution.  For  this  eminent  service, 
however,  he  had  obtained  no  reward  ; 
his  merit  was  overlooked,  and  he  still 
sat  in  the  gate  of  the  king. 

But  it  sorely  displeased  Haman  that 
Mordecai  refused  him  the  appointed 
tokens  of  reverence.  It  was  nothing  to 
this  haughty  man  that  he  had  reached 
the  highest  point  to  which  a  subject 
could  aspire,  so  long  as  he  had  to  en- 
counter a  Jew  who  would  not  fall  pros- 
trate before  him.  He  must  have  his 
revenge — but  it  shall  be  a  large  re- 
venge :  it  were  little  to  destroy  Mor- 
decai alone  ;  the  reasons  which  pro- 
duced the  refusal  from  the  individual 
might  operate  equally  on  the  thousands 
of  his  countrymen :  Mordecai  then  shall 
perish;  biit  with  him  shall  fall  also  the 
whole  nation  of  the  Jews. 

It  was  a  bold,  as  well  as  a  bloody 
scheme,  such  as  could  not  have  been 


478 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT, 


thought  of  except  under    an  eastern 
despotism.  Haman,  however,  knew  that 
the  lives  of  subjects  were  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  king,  so  that  if  he  could 
but  possess   himself  of  a  royal  edict 
against  the   Jews,   he  might  compass 
his  stern  purpose,  and  exterminate  the 
people.    He  sets,  therefore,  to  work : 
but  he  will  be  religious  in  his  whole- 
sale massacre ;  he  betakes  himself  to 
the  casting  of  lots,  that  he  may  ascer- 
tain the  day  of  the  year  most  favorable 
to  his  project;  and  the  lots — for  "  the 
whole  disposing  thereof  is  of  the  Lord" 
— fixed  him  to  a  day  eleven  months  dis- 
tant, and,  by   thus   delaying  his  atro- 
cious scheme,  gave  time  for  its  defeat. 
He  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  the 
iniquitous  decree  from  the   luxurious 
and  indolent  monarch:  he  simply  told 
him   that  there  was  a  strange  people 
scattered  about   his  empire,   whom   it 
would  be  well  to  destroy,  and   offered 
to  pay  a  large  sum  into  the  royal  trea- 
sury, to  balance  any  loss  which  their 
destruction  might  occasion.    The  king, 
without  making  the  least  inquiry,  gave 
Haman  his  ring,  which  would  author- 
ize any  measure  which  he  might  choose 
to  adopt ;  and  Haman  immediately  cir- 
culated   the    sanguinary   edict,  to  the 
great  horror  of  the  Jews,  and  the  con- 
sternation of  the   whole   empire.    On 
this,  Mordecai  took  measures  for  com- 
municating with  Esther,  apprised  her 
of  the  ruin  which  hung  over  her  na- 
tion, and  urged  her  to  attempt  inter- 
cession with  the  king.    And  whilst  Es- 
ther was  doing  all  in  her  power  to  ar- 
range a  favorable  opportunity  for  plead- 
ing the  cause  of  her  people,  there  hap- 
pened   the   singular    circumstance   re- 
corded  in  the    text :    his    sleep   Avent 
from  the  king  ;  and  in  place  of  sending 
for  music,  or  other  blandishments,  to 
soothe   him   to   repose,  he    desired  to 
hear  portions  of  the  chronicles  of  the 
empire.   Amongst  other  things,  the  ac- 
count of  the  conspiracy  which  Morde- 
cai had  discovered,  was  read  to  him; 
this  suggested  inquiry  as  to  whether 
Mordecai  had  been  recompensed  ;  this 
acrain  produced  an  order  for  his  being 
instantly  and  signally  honored — an  or- 
der which,  as  intrusted  to  Haman,  was 
but  the  too  certain  herald  of  that  fa- 
vorite's downfall.   Things  now  went  on 
rapidly  in  favor  of  the  Jews :  the  vil- 
lany  of  Haman  was  disclosed  to  the 


king  :  immediate  vengeance  followed  ; 
and  very  shortly  the  people,  who  had 
stood  within  an  ace  of  destruction,  had 
gladness  and  light  in  their  dwellings, 
and  were  all  the  more  prosperous 
through  the  defeated  plot  of  their  ene- 
mies. 

Now  who  can  fail  to  perceive,  who 
can  hesitate  to  confess,  the  providence 
of  God  in  the  occurrences  thus  hastily 
reviewed]  From  the  first,  from  the 
advancement  of  Esther  to  the  throne, 
a  higher  than  human  agency  was  ma- 
nifestly at  work  to  counteract  a  scheme 
as  distinctly  foreknown  as  though  God 
had  appointed,  in  place  of  only  permit- 
ting, the  sin.  Tbe  conspiracy  of  the 
two  chamberlains;  the  subsequent  ne- 
glect of  Mordecai;  the  distant  season 
determined  by  the  lot — these  were  all 
either  ordered,  or  overruled,  by  God  ; 
and  had  a  part,  more  or  less  direct,  in 
frustrating  a  plot  which  aimed  at  no- 
thing less  than  the  extinction  of  the 
Jews.  But  perhaps  the  most  memora- 
ble of  the  evidences  of  God's  special 
providence  is  that  narrated  in  the  text. 
There  is  nothing,  indeed,  surprising  in 
the  mere  circumstance  that  the  king 
passed  a  sleepless  night ;  it  may  have 
arisen  from  many  natural  causes  ;  and 
we  are  not  at  all  required  to  hold  that 
there  was  any  thing  miraculous,  any 
thing  out  of  the  ordinary  course,  in  his 
finding  himself  unable  to  sleep.  But 
if  there  were  nothing  expressly  done 
to  banish  slumber  from  his  eyes,  we 
may  safely  say  that  advantage  was 
taken  of  the  sleeplessness  of  the  king, 
and  that  it  was  suggested  to  him  to  do 
what  he  was  little  likely  to  have  thought 
of.  How  improbable  that,  as  he  tossed 
from  side  to  side,  and  could  not  find 
rest,  he  should  have  fancied  the  being 
read  to  out  of  the  chronicles  of  the 
empire,  a  dry  narrative  it  may  be,  of 
facts  with  which  he  was  already  Avell 
acquainted,  and  which  had  little  to  in- 
terest a  voluptuary  like  himself.  When 
Darius  had  allowed  Daniel  to  be  cast 
into  the  lions'  den,  and  was  "  sore  dis- 
pleased with  himself"  for  what  he  had 
done,  we  read  that  "  instruments  of 
music  were  not  brought  before  him  :" 
as  if,  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
some  such  means  as  the  cadences  of 
melody  would  have  been  used  to  cheat 
him  into  slumber.  But  Ahasuerus, 
though  the  whole  history  proves  him 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT. 


479 


to  have  been  a  thorough  sensualist, 
sent  not  for  music,  but  for  the  chroni- 
cles of  the  kingdom;  indeed,  it  was  at 
the  prompting  of  another  spirit  than 
his  own,  or,  if  it  were  but  the  whim  of 
the  moment,  God  made  it  instrumental 
to  the  most  important  of  purposes. 

Then,  when  the  chronicles  were 
brought,  it  was  not  likely  that  the  part 
relating  to  Mordecai  would  be  read. 
It  might  have  been  expected  that 
the  reader  would  turn  to  portions  of 
the  records  which  were  not  so  well 
known,  as  better  fitted  to  divert  and 
interest  the  king.  Besides,  it  is  evi- 
dent enough  that  Mordecai  was  no  fa- 
vorite with  the  other  royal  servants ; 
they  were  disposed  to  pay  court  to 
Haman,  and  therefore  to  side  with  him 
in  his  quarrel  with  this  refractory  Jew. 
It  was  probable,  then,  that  the  reader 
would  avoid  the  account  of  what  Mor- 
decai had  done,  not  wishing  that  the 
king  should  be  reminded  of  his  signal, 
but  unrequited,  services.  Yet,  not- 
withstanding all  the  chances — to  use 
common  language — against  the  recital 
of  Mordecai's  deed,  the  narrative  of 
this  deed  was  brought  before  the  king, 
and  its  effect  was  an  inquiry  as  to  the 
reward  of  the  man  who  had  been  so 
eminently  useful.  And  thus,  by  a  suc- 
cession of  improbabilities,  but  not  one 
of  those  improbabilities  so  great  as 
to  seem  to  require  any  supernatural 
interference,  was  a  result  brought 
round,  or  at  least  advanced,  which 
mightily  concerned,  not  only  the  Jew- 
ish nation,  but  the  whole  human  race  ; 
for  had  the  plan  of  Haman  succeeded, 
and  that  people  been  exterminated 
whence  Messiah  was  to  spring,  where 
would  have  been  the  promised  redemp- 
tion of  this  earth  and  its  guilty  inha- 
bitants 1 

It  is  hardly  affirming  too  much,  to 
affirm  that  on  the  sleepless  night  of  the 
Persian  king  v/as  made  to  depend  our 
rescue  from  everlasting  death  ;  at  least, 
and  undeniably,  the  restlessness  of  the 
king  was  one  of  those  instruments 
through  which  God  wrought  in  carry- 
ing on  his  purpose  of  redeeming  our 
race  through  a  descendant  from  David 
"  according  to  the  flesh."  Wonderful, 
that  so  simple,  so  casual  a  circumstance 
should  have  had  a  direct  bearing  on  the 
destinies  of  men  from  Adam  to  the 
very  latest  posterity !  wonderful,  that 


the  disturbed  and  broken  rest  of  a  sin- 
gle individual  should  have  aided  the 
reconciliation  of  the  whole  world  to 
God!  Let  us  contemplate  the  fact 
with  yet  closer  attention.  We  wish  to 
impress  on  you  a  strong  sense  of  the 
ever-watchful  providence  of  God,  of 
his  power  in  overruling  all  things,  so 
that  they  subserve  his  fixed  purpo- 
ses, and  of  the  facility  wherewith  he 
can  produce  amazing  results,  through 
simple  instrumentality.  Whither  then 
shall  we  lead  you  1  Not  to  any 
strange  or  startling  scene,  where  there 
are  clear  tokens  of  Divine  interference 
and  supremacy.  Come  with  us  merely 
to  the  couch  of  the  Persian  king,  on 
that  night  when  sleep  went  from  his 
eyes  ;  and  remembering  that  his  sleep- 
lessness was  directly  instrumental  to 
the  defeating  the  foul  plot  of  Haman, 
let  us  consider  what  facts  are  establish- 
ed by  the  exhibition,  and  what  practi- 
cal lessons  it  furnishes  to  ourselves. 

My  brethren,  examine  your  notions 
of  God,  and  tell  me  whether  you  are 
not  apt  to  measure  the  Supreme  Beino- 
by  standards  established  between  man 
and  man.  The  Divine  greatness  is  re- 
garded as  that  of  some  very  eminent 
king  :  what  would  be  inconsistent  with 
the  dignity  of  the  potentate  is  regard- 
ed as  inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of 
God  ;  and  what  seems  to  us  to  contri- 
bute to  that  dignity  is  carried  up  to 
the  heavenly  courts,  or  supposed  to 
exist  there  in  the  highest  perfection. 
We  do  not  say  that  men  are  to  be 
blamed  for  thus  aiding  their  concep- 
tions of  Deity  by  the  facts  and  figures 
of  an  earthly  estate.  Limited  as  our 
faculties  are,  and  unsuited  to  compre- 
hend what  is  spiritual — confined,  more- 
over, as  we  are  to  a  material  world — 
it  is,  in  a  measure,  unavoidable  that 
we  should  picture  God  in  human  shape, 
or  rather,  that  we  should  take  the  stand- 
ards which  subsist  among  ourselves 
and  use  them  in  representing,  or  set- 
ting forth,  our  Maker.  But  we  should 
often  gain  a  grander  and  a  juster  idea 
of  God,  by  considering  in  what  he  dif- 
fers from  men,  than  by  ascribing  to 
him,  only  in  an  infinite  degree,  what  is 
found  amongst  ourselves.  You  may 
picture  God  as  a  potentate  with  bound- 
less resources  at  his  disposal,  possess- 
ed of  universal  dominion,  and  surround- 
ed by  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 


480 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT. 


ministering  spirits,  each  waiting  to  do 
his  pleasure,  and  each  mighty  as  that 
angel  of  death  which  prostrated,  in  a 
single  night,  the  vast  hosts  of  the  As- 
syrian. There  is  nothing  wrong  in 
this  representation  of  Deity,  except 
that  it  must  come  immeasurably  short 
of  the  reality  :  it  is  correct  as  far  as  it 
goes  J  but  when  we  have  heaped  figure 
upon  figure,  attributing  to  God  every 
conceivable  instrument  of  power,  we 
have,  indeed,  depicted  him  as  mighty, 
in  the  sense  in  Avhich  an  earthly  mon- 
arch may  be  mighty;  but,  virtually, 
we  can  have  made  no  approach  towards 
the  actual  state  of  that  omnipotent 
Being,  who  "  sitteth  on  the  circle  of 
the  earth,  and  the  inhabitants  thereof 
are  as  grasshoppers." 

And,  after  all,  it   is  not  by  putting 
unbounded  resources  at  the  disposal  of 
God,  and  representing  him  as  working 
through    stupendous    instrumentality, 
that  we  frame  the  highest  notions  of 
him  as  a  sovereign  or  ruler.    Keep  out 
of  sight  the  unbounded  resources,  the 
stupendous     instrumentality  ;     survey 
him  as  effecting  what  he  wills  through 
a  mean  and  insignificant  agency;  and 
you   more  separate  between  the  Crea- 
tor and  the  creature,  and  therefore  go 
nearer,  it  may  be,  to  the  true  idea  of 
God.     There    is    something   sublimer 
and  more  overwhelming  in  those  say- 
ings of  Scripture,  "  Out  of  the  mouth 
of  babes  and  sucklings  hast  thou  or- 
dained strength  ;"  "  God  hath  chosen 
the  foolish  things  of  the  world  to  con- 
found the  wise,  the  weak  things  of  the 
world   to  confound   the   things  which 
are  mighty  ;"  than  in  the  most  mag- 
nificent   and   gorgeous  description   of 
dominion  and   strength.    This   is   just 
what  the  earthly  potentate  cannot  do  : 
he  must  have  causes  proportionate  to 
effects,   agencies   commensurate  with 
results;   and    it  were  utterly  vain  for 
him    to    think    of    ordaining    strength 
from  babes  and  sucklings,  of  confound- 
ing wise  things  with  foolish,  or  migh- 
ty with  weak.    This   is   the  preroga- 
tive of  Deity  alone  ;    and  because  in 
this  he   is  altogether  separated   from 
his  creatures,  therefore  is  this  more  a 
sign   or  attribute  of  Deity,  than  any 
assemblage  of  forces  which  Scripture 
may  mention,    or   any  celestial  army 
which  imagination  can  array. 

Observe,    then,    how    wonderful    is 


God,  in  that  he  can  accomplish  great 
ends  by  insignificant  means.     Christi- 
anity,  for    example,   diffused    through 
the  instrumentality  of  twelve  legions 
of  angels,  would  have  been  immeasu- 
rably inferior,  as  a  trophy  of  Omnipo- 
tence, to  Christianity  diffused  through 
the   instrumentality   of   twelve   fisher- 
men.    When    I    survey    the    heavens, 
with  their  glorious  troop  of  stars,  and 
am  told  that  the  Almighty  employs  to 
his  own  majestic  ends   the  glittering 
hosts,  as  they  pursue  their  everlasting 
march,   I    experience    no    surprise :    I 
seem  to  feel  as  though  the  spangled 
firmament  were  worthy  of  being  em- 
ployed by  the  Creator;  and  I  expect 
a  magnificent  consummation  from  so 
magnificent   an    instrumentality.     But 
show  me  a  tiny  insect,  just  floating  in 
the  breeze,  and  tell  me,  that,  by  and 
through  that  insect,  will  God  carry  for- 
'ward  the  largest  and  most  stupendous 
of  his  purposes,  and  I  am  indeed  filled 
with  amazement ;  I  cannot  sufficiently 
admire    a    Being,    who,    through    that 
which  I  could  crush  with  a  breath,  ad- 
vances  what    I   cannot    measure   with 
thought.  And  is  there  any  thing  strain- 
ed or  incorrect  in  associating  with  an 
insect  the  redemption  of   the  worlds 
Nay,  not  so.    In  saving  the  race  whence 
Messiah  was  to  spring,  God  Avorked 
through  the  disturbed  sleep  of  the  Per- 
sian monarch,  and  the  buzz   of  an  in- 
considerable insect  might  have  sufficed 
to  break  that  monarch's  repose. 

You  have  another  instance  in  Scrip- 
ture of  an  attempt  to  destroy  the  cho- 
sen seed,  and  thus  to  frustrate  the 
promises  in  which  the  whole  world 
had  interest.  It  was  made  by  Pharaoh, 
king  of  Egypt,  who,  not  content  with 
enslaving  and  oppressing  the  Israel- 
ites, sought  to  eflect  their  extinction 
through  destroying  all  their  male  chil- 
dren. And  when  God  interfered  on  be- 
half of  his  people,  it  was  with  miracle 
and  prodigy,  with  a  mighty  hand  and 
a  stretched-out  arm.  Every  one  seems 
to  feel  that  the  agency  Avas  here  ade- 
quate to  the  exigence  :  when  the  very 
scheme  of  redemption  may  be  said  to 
have  been  in  jeopardy,  no  one  is  sur- 
prised, either  that  God  came  forth 
from  his  solitude  clad  in  his  might,  or 
that,  interposing  in  so  awful  a  manner, 
he  should  have  confounded  and  scat- 
tered his  enemies.    The  interposition 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT. 


481 


resembled  what  might  have  been  look- 
ed for  from  an  earthly  king,  who,  find- 
ing his  will  obstructed  in  some  pro- 
vince of  his  empire,  should  hasten  thi- 
ther with  his  armies,  and  subdue  by 
superior  might  the  rebels  and  antago- 
nists. But  when  the  peril  was  greater 
and  more  immediate,  for  certainly  the 
project  of  Haman  threatened  worse 
than  that  of  Pharaoh,  there  was  no 
miracle — no  prodigy  :  swarms  of  flies 
did  not  darken  the  land,  though  per- 
haps a  single  fly  was  made  use  of  by 
God.  Yet  who  does  not  perceive  that 
herein  was  the  wonderfulness  of  God 
more  displayed,  than  in  all  the  superna- 
tural terrors  which  devastated  Egypt  ■? 
Let  it  be,  that  God  caused  Ahasuerus 
to  be  sleepless,  or  only  knew  that  he 
would  be  ;  that  he  prompted  him  to 
send  for  the  chronicles,  or  only  knew 
that  he  would  send  ;  that  he  secretly 
suggested  to  the  reader  what  parts  to 
lake,  or  simply  foresaw  his  selection — 
in  either  case,  what  a  tissue  of  insig- 
nificant causes  is  here !  but,  at  the 
same  time,  what  a  Being  must  that  be, 
who  could  hang  a  world  on  such  a  web, 
any  thread  of  which  might  have  been 
broken  by  a  thought,  but  not  without 
deranorinor  and  dislocating  the  whole ! 
To  have  interfered  with  visible  mira- 
cle, would  have  been  nothing  compared 
lo  the  thus  secretly  and  silently  ope- 
rating through  natural  and  inconsider- 
able things.  Indeed,  it  was  a  display 
of  Deity,  when  the  oppressors  of  Isra- 
el quailed  before  a  power  which  strew- 
ed the  earth  with  ruin,  and  shrouded 
the  heavens  in  darkness.  But  it  ac- 
cords with  our  notions  of  greatness, 
that  mighty  means  should  be  employ- 
ed to  mighty  ends :  if  God  have  at  his 
disposal  the  thunder,  the  storm,  and 
the  pestilence,  we  marvel  not,  that,  by 
employing  such  artillery,  he  should 
frustrate  the  plots  of  the  enemies  of 
his  church.  Can  he  dispense  with  this 
artillery  1  can  he  work  without  mira- 
cles, when  some  great  crisis  arrives, 
and  the  counsels  of  Eternitj'^  seem  on 
the  eve  of  defeat  ^  Indeed  he  can.  He 
is  too  great  to  find  any  instrument  lit- 
tle. He  can  work  with  the  insect's 
wing  just  as  well  as  with  the  Archan- 
gel's. And,  after  adoring  him,  as  he 
passes  through  Egypt  in  the  chariot  of 
his  strength,  working  out  the  emanci- 
pation of  his  people  by  portents  and 


plagues,  I  fall  before  him  as  yet  more 
amazing  in  wisdom  and  power,  when  I 
find  the  bloody  purpose  of  Haman  de- 
feated through  such  instrumentality  as 
this;  "  The  king  could  not  sleep,  and 
he  commanded  to  bring  the  book  of 
the  records  of  the  chronicles,  and  they 
were  read  before  the  king." 

Now  we  omitted  a  circumstance,  in 
our  hasty  summary  of  the  facts  of  the 
history,  which  ought  to  be  pointed  out, 
that  you  may  thoroughly  perceive  the 
v/orkings  of  divine  Providence.  At  the 
very  moment  that  the  king  was  listen- 
ing to  the  chronicles  of  the  empire,  the 
wicked  Haman  was  standing  in  the 
court,  waiting  for  an  audience.  He  had 
risen  early  that  he  might  prefer  a  re- 
quest to  the  king,  a  request  for  the  im- 
mediate execution  of  Mordecai.  At  the 
suggestion  of  his  wife,  he  had  caused  a 
gallows  to  be  erected,  and  now  sought 
the  royal  permission  for  hanging  the 
object  of  his  inveterate  hatred.  Only 
remember  with  what  facility  the  king 
had  granted  Haman's  request,  when  it 
asked  the  destruction  of  thousands,  and 
you  will  hardly  think  it  likely  that  he 
would  have  shown  any  hesitation  in 
consenting  to  the  death  of  a  solitary 
individual,  and  that,  too,  an  individual 
already  doomed  by  the  issued  decree. 
And  if  Mordecai  had  fallen,  it  does  not 
indeed  necessarily  follow  that  Esther 
would  have  failed  in  her  intercession 
with  the  king:  but  it  is  not  too  much, 
to  suppose  that  she  would  have  been 
staggered  and  paralyzed  through  the 
loss  of  her  kinsman  and  adviser,  and 
perhaps  have  taken  his  death  as  an  evi- 
dence of  the  uselessness  of  resisting 
the  insolent  Haman.  Mordecai  was, 
humanly  speaking,  the  great  obstruc- 
tion to  the  execution  of  Haman's  plot ; 
and,  this  having  been  removed,  unless 
some  new  counteracting  engines  had 
been  set  at  work  by  God,  the  whole 
nation  of  the  Jews  must  have  simulta- 
neously perished.  Thus  it  was,  you 
perceive,  precisely  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment that  his  sleep  went  from  the  king  ; 
the  sleepless  night  saved  Mordecai, 
and  Mordecai  saved  the  nation.  We 
have  not,  then,  put  the  case  too  strong- 
ly, in  representing  the  scheme  of  the 
redemption  of  the  worl(?  as  having  de- 
pended on  the  restlessness  of  the  mon- 
arch of  Persia.  We  do  not,  of  course, 
mean  to  say,  that,  had  the  king  slept 
61 


4S2 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT. 


through  the  nighl,  God  would  not  have 
employed  some  other  instrumentality 
in  furthering  his  purpose  of  mercy  to- 
Avards  men.  But  we  have  only  to  do 
with  instrumentality  actually  employ- 
ed :  and,  indeed,  it  is  unbecoming  in 
lis  even  to  suppose  the  case  that  the 
king  might  have  slept ;  for  this  is 
to  suppose  that  God's  foreknowledge 
might  have  been  at  fault,  a  contingen- 
cy having  been  reckoned  upon  which 
had  never  arisen.  It  was  clearly,  there- 
fore, so  ordered  by  Providence,  that 
the  deliverance  of  the  Jews,  and,  with 
it,  the  redemption  of  the  world,  should 
hinge  on  the  fact  of  his  sleep  going  on  | 
one  particular  night  from  Ahasuerus, 
the  monarch  of  Persia. 

And  having  already  called  on  you  to 
admire  the  wonderfulness  of  God,  in 
that  he  could  operate  to  so  mighty  an 
end  through  ro  inconsiderable  an  agen- 
cy, we  would  have  you  carefully  ob- 
serve how  little  there  was  which  could 
be  called  supernatural  interference  ; 
how  simply,  without  any  violence,  the 
divine  Providence  effected  its  purpose. 
Now  that  the  whole  is  over,  we  can 
clearly  trace  the  hand  of  God:  but, 
whilst  the  matter  was  in  progress,  we 
might  have  discerned  nothing  but  or- 
dinary and  every-day  events,  such  as 
afforded  no  sign  of  .the  interference  of 
Deity.  We  have  not  taken  on  our- 
selves to  decide  whether  God  actually 
caused,  or  only  foreknew,  the  king's 
sleepless  night ;  whether  he  turned  the 
king's  mind  towards  the  chronicles  of 
the  empire,  or  merely  foresaw  its  di- 
lection.  But  let  it  be  supposed,  as  is 
sufficiently  probable,  that  there  was 
more  than  foreknowledge,  that  God 
banished  sleep  from  the  king's  eyes 
and  directed  his  thoughts  to  the  chro- 
nicles, how  natural  was  the  whole  thing  I 
liow  little  interference  was  there  with 
the  usual  course  of  events!  No  one 
could  have  suspected  that  a  divine 
iigency  was  at  work :  it  was  no  ways 
singular  that  the  king  should  be  rest- 
less: no  miracle  was  required  to  ex- 
plain his  choosing  to  hear  the  records 
of  his  empire:  every  thing  was  just 
what  might  have  equally  happened, 
had  matters  been  left  to  themselves, 
in  place  of  having  been  disposed  and 
directed  by  God. 

We  wish  you  to  observe  this  very 
carefully,  because  it  goes  to  the  set- 


ting under  a  right  point  of  view  the 
utility  of  prayer,  which  is  often  object- 
ed against  as  though  it  sought  mira- 
cles, or  expected  God  to  interrupt,  at 
our  call,  the  established  course  and  or- 
der of  things.  The  Jews,  at  the  bid- 
ding of  Esther,  had  given  themselves 
to  fasting  and  prayer,  supplicating  of 
the  Almighty  that  she  might  be  favor- 
ably received  of  the  king,  and  thus  en- 
abled to  adopt  measures  for  discomfit- 
ing Haman.  And  independently  on  this 
set  supplication  on  behalf  of  the  queen, 
we  may  be  sure,  that,  no  sooner  had 
the  edict  gone  forth  which  doomed 
them  to  death,  than  the  Jews  betook 
themselves  to  prayer  to  the  God  of 
their  fathers,  imploring  of  him  that  he 
would  vanquish  their  foes,  and  not  suf- 
fer the  promises  to  fail,  of  which,  for 
centuries,  they  had  been  the  deposito- 
ry. And  perhaps  they  looked  for  visi- 
ble and  miraculous  interference  in  an- 
swer to  their  prayers:  it  had  been  God's 
course,  in  other  emergencies,  to  make 
bare  his  arm  in  defence  of  his  people  : 
might  he  not  now  be  expected  to  ap- 
pear in  his  terrors,  and  scatter,  by  the 
brightness  of  his  presence,  Avhatsoever 
had  leagued  against  his  church  and 
himself?  But  they  looked  in  vain,  if 
they  looked  for  sensible  evidence  that 
God  had  not  forgotten  his  covenant : 
there  came  no  prodigy  to  sustain  their 
sinking  spirits  :  if  Mordecai  appeared 
raised  up,  as  Moses  had  been,  to  coun- 
sel and  lead  them  in  their  difficulties ; 
alas!  he  had  not  the  rod  of  the  law- 
giver to  wave  over  the  land,  and  make 
oppressors  tremble. 

AVas  God,  then,  not  hearkening  to 
prayer  1  was  he  not  intending,  or  pre- 
paring, to  answer  it  1  Indeed,  his  ear 
was  open  to  the  cry  of  his  people,  and 
the  event  sufficiently  showed  that  he 
had,  all  along,  been  working  for  their 
safety.  But,  as  though  to  prove  to  us 
that,  even  in  the  worst  extremity,  he 
may  interpose  on  our  behalf,  and  ne- 
vertheless not  derange  the  common 
order  of  things  ;  he  frustrated  the  ap- 
parently secure  plot  of  Haman  without 
the  least  approach  to  a  miracle.  And 
do  you  not  perceive  what  encourage- 
ment this  affords  in  the  matter  of 
prayer,  and  how  it  scatters  the  ob- 
jections which  numbers  would  urge  '? 
The  scorner  would  tell  me  of  fixed  and 
immutable  laws,   according  to  which 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT. 


183 


things  must  proceed  in  regular  succes- 
sion and  train :  he  would  persuade  me 
of  the  utter  absurdity  of  addressing 
petitions  to  God,  seeing  that,  if  he  an- 
swer them,  it  must  be  by  interfering 
with  what  is  settled  and  constant,  by 
the  working  of  miracles,  Avhich,  from 
their  very  nature,  he  cannot  often 
work.  But  it  is  a  false  statement.  I 
do  not  look  for  miracle  to  be  wrought 
in  answer  to  prayer — though,  all  the 
while,  I  thoroughly  believe  that,  were 
a  case  to  arise  in  which  nothing  short 
of  miracle  would  meet  the  circum- 
stances of  a  servant  of  God,  the  mira- 
cle would  not  be  withheld  :  stars  shall 
forsake  their  courses,  the  sun  and  the 
moon  shall  put  on  sackcloth,  ere  any 
thing  shall  fail  which  God  has  promised 
to  the  righteous,  and  which  is  needful 
to  their  steadfastness  or  progress.  But 
it  is  not  required  that  there  should  be 
miracle  in  order  to  our  prajrers  being 
granted ;  neither  does  the  granting 
them  suppose  that  God  is  variable,  or 
changes  in  his  purposes.  There  was 
no  miracle  in  his  causing  Ahasuerus  to 
pass  a  sleepless  night :  a  little  heat  in 
the  atmosphere,  or  the  buzzing  of  an 
insect,  might  have  produced  the  result ; 
and  philosophy,  with  all  its  sagacity, 
ruption  of  the  known  laws  of  nature, 
could  not  have  detected  any  inter- 
Neither  were  God's  purposes  variable, 
though  it  may  have  actually  depended 
on  the  importunity  of  prayer,  whether 
or  not  the  people  should  be  delivered. 
God's  appointment  may  have  been, 
that  he  would  break  the  king's  sleep  if 
prayer  reached  a  certain  intenseness  ; 
that  he  would  not  break  it  if  it  came 
below  that  intenseness:  and  surely, 
this  would  accord  equally  with  two 
propositions — the  first,  that  the  divine 
purposes  are  fixed  and  immutable  ;  the 
second,  that,  notwithstanding  this  fix- 
edness and  immutability,  they  may  be 
affected  by  human  petitions,  and  there- 
fore leave  room  for  importunate  prayer. 
And  thus  I  am  mightily  encouraged 
in  all  the  business  of  prayer  by  the 
broken  rest  of  the  Persian  king.  Com- 
paratively, I  should  not  be  encouraged, 
were  I  told  that  what  disquieted  the 
monarch  had  been  the  standing  of  a 
spectre  by  his  bedside,  an  unearthly 
form,  which,  in  unearthly  accents,  had 
upbraided  him  with  leaving  Mordecai 
unrequited.      Here  would  have  been 


miracle,  a  departure  from  ordinary 
laws ;  and  I  know  that  such  departure 
must  be  necessarily  rare,  and  could 
hardly  be  looked  for  in  any  exigence 
of  mine  own.  But  when  I  observe  that 
the  king's  rest  was  disturbed  without 
any  thing  supernatural ;  that  all  which 
God  had  to  do  in  order  to  arrange  a 
great  deliverance  for  his  people,  was 
to  cause  a  sleepless  night,  but  so  to 
cause  it  that  no  one  could  discern  his 
interference  ;  then,  indeed,  I  learn  that 
I  may  not  be  asking  what  the  world 
counts  miracle,  though  I  ask  what 
transcends  all  power  but  divine.  It 
may  be  by  natural  processes  that  God 
effects  what  migiit  pass  for  supernatu- 
ral results.  Shall  I  not  cry  for  deli- 
verance from  the  dungeon  into  which 
a  tyrant  has  cast  me,  or  from  the  tem- 
pest which  has  overtaken  me  ?  Shall 
I  be  silent,  because  it  were  like  asking 
for  miracle,  to  ask  that  the  prison  doors 
might  be  loosened,  or  for  interruption 
of  the  known  laws  of  nature,  to  entreat 
that  the  agitated  elements  might  be 
hushed  ■?  Nay,  not  so.  God,  who  suc- 
cored the  Jews  through  giving  one 
man  a  sleepless  night,  may,  by  the 
dropping  of  a  pin,  incline  the  tyrant 
to  release  me,  or,  by  a  feather's  weight 
in  those  laboratories  which  science 
never  penetrated,  repress  the  rushings 
of  the  storm.  I  am  delivered  from  the 
dungeon,  I  am  saved  from  the  tempest, 
without  exciting  the  surprise  of  the 
world,  because  without  any  palpable 
derangement  of  the  common  order  of 
things;  but  nevertheless  through  an 
express  answer  to  prayer,  or  a  direct 
interference  on  the  part  of  the  Al- 
mighty. 

Oh,  there  is  something  in  this  which 
should  be  wondrously  encouraging  to 
all  who  feel  their  insignificance,  and 
can  scarce  venture  to  think  that  the 
high  and  glorious  God  will  exert  his 
omnipotence  on  their  behalf.  If  the 
registered  deliverances,  vouchsafed  to 
the  church,  were  all  deliverances  which 
had  been  effected  through  miracles,  we 
might  question  whether  they  afforded 
any  precedent,  on  which  creatures  like 
ourselves  could  justly  rest  hope.  We 
dare  not  think  that  for  us,  for  our  safe- 
ty or  advancement,  armed  squadrons 
will  be  seen  on  the  heavens,  or  the 
earth  be  convulsed,  or  the  waters  turn- 
ed into  blood.     But  look   from  Israel 


84 


THE    SLEEPLESS   NIGHT. 


delivered  from  Pharaoh  to  Israel  de-  { 
livered  from  Haman,  and  we  are  en-  ! 
courao-ed  to  believe  that  God  will  not 
fail  even  us  in  our  extremity,  seeing 
that  he  could  save  the  people  through 
such  a  simple  and  unsuspected  pro- 
cess as  this :  '^  On  that  night  could  not 
%he  king  sleep,  and  he  commanded  to 
bring  the  book  of  the  records  of  the 
chronicles." 

But  we  would  now  lead  you  along  a 
train  of  thought  quite  difierent  from 
the  preceding,  but  naturally  flowing 
from  the  circumstances  under  review. 
We  wish  you  again,  and  more  dis- 
tinctly, to  observe,  that,  even  on  the 
supposition  that  God  produced,  and 
did  not  merely  overrule  what  took 
place,  there  was  nothing  to  excite  a 
consciousness  of  Divine  interference  : 
the  whole  process  was  so  natural  that 
its  subject  might  never  have  suspect- 
ed the  special  workings  of  God.  It 
cannot  for  a  moment  be  alleged,  that 
any  thing  like  compulsion  was  laid 
upon  the  king,  that  his  free  agency 
was  destroyed,  so  that  he  was  neces- 
sitated, against  his  will,  to  adopt  a 
particular  course.  It  was  not  indeed 
optional  with  Ahasuerus  whether  or 
not  he  would  be  wakeful ;  neither  was 
it  at  his  own  choice,  whether  or  not 
the  thought  should  cross  his  mind  of 
sending  for  the  chronicles  of  the  em- 
pire; but  we  may  fairly  suppose  that 
he  could  have  resisted  this  thought 
had  he  pleased.  He  might  have  said  to 
himself,  "  These  chronicles  will  never 
soothe  me  to  sleep :  I  will  try  some- 
thing better  suited  to  my  purpose" — 
and  thus  might  he  have  withstood  the 
impulse,  and  lost  the  opportunity  of 
discovering  and  correcting  his  faults. 
We  do  not  of  course  mean,  as  we  have 
hinted  before,  that  Haman's  plot  would 
not  have  been  defeated,  had  the  king 
not  done  according  to  the  suggestion 
of  God.  God  designed  that  the  plot 
should  be  defeated ;  and  he  would, 
therefore,  have  been  sure  to  bring  to 
bear  an  adequate  instrumentality.  But 
the  point  under  consideration  is,  that 
the  agency  employed  on  the  king  Avas 
so  natural,  so  undistinguishable  from 
the  workings  of  his  own  mind,  that  he 
could  never  have  suspected  a  Divine 
interference,  and  must  have  been  per- 
fectly at  liberty  either  to  do,  or  not  to 
do,  as  the  secret  impulse  prescribed. 


And  in  this,  my  brethren,  we  have  a 
striking  illustration  of  God's  ordinary 
course  in  his  dealings  with  men — t!iose 
dealings,  we  specially  mean,  through 
which  he  would  eflect  their  conver- 
sion or  renewal.  If  you  examine  theo- 
retically into  the  consistence  of  human 
liberty  with  the  operations  of  Divine 
grace — if,  that  is,  you  seek  to  show, 
with  thorough  precision,  that  the  in- 
fluences of  God's  Spirit  on  our  minds 
in  no  degree  interfere  with  free  agen- 
cy—  it  is  possible  that  you  will  in- 
volve yourselves  in  a  labyrinth,  and 
seek  vainly  for  the  clue  by  which  you 
might  be  extricated.  But,  practicallj', 
there  is  no  difficulty  whatsoever  in  the 
matter:  we  may  fairly  say,  that,  whilst 
suggestions  are  secretly  generated,  and 
impulses  applied  to  our  minds,  we  are 
thoroughly  at  liberty  to  act  as  we 
choose  :  it  depends  on  ourselves,  on 
the  exercise  of  our  own  will,  whether 
the  suggestions  be  cherished  or  crush- 
ed, whether  the  impulses  be  withstood 
or  obeyed.  And  we  know  nothing  of 
which  it  is  more  important  that  men 
be  aware,  than  of  the  naturalness,  so 
to  speak,  of  the  Spirit's  operations; 
for  many  are  disposed  to  wait  for  what 
they  count  supernatural  influence — in- 
fluence which  shall  palpably  not  be  of 
this  earth,  and  which  shall  virtually 
leave  them  no  freedom  of  choice.  But 
without  denying  that  cases  sometimes 
occur,  in  which  the  operations  of  the 
Spirit  thus  force  attention  to  their 
origin,  it  is  unquestionable  that  his 
ordinary  operations  are  just  such  as 
may  pass  for  the  workings  of  our  own 
minds:  there  is  nothing  in  them  to 
tell  us,  that  we  are,  at  that  moment, 
being  subjected  to  the  agency  of  Om- 
nipotence ;  nothing  to  excite  the  start- 
ling conviction,  that  we  are  verily 
wrought  upon  by  that  renovating 
power,  which  is  to  mould  out  of  fall- 
en humanity  a  habitation  for  Deity 
himself.  And  because  the  operations 
of  the  Spirit  are  commonly  not  dis- 
tinguishable from  those  of  our  own 
minds,  the  danger  is  very  great  of 
their  being  overlooked  or  despised; 
and  the  duty  is,  therefore,  most  press- 
ing, of  our  being  ever  on  the  watch 
for  his  suggestions  and  impulses. 

The  position  of  the  unconverted  man 
is  often  precisely  that  of  the  king  Ahas- 
uerus.   There  is  a  restlessness,  an  un- 


THE    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT. 


485 


easiness,  for  which  he  cannot  give 
any  definite  reason;  it  has  come  upon 
him,  he  hardly  knows  whence;  and  he 
turns  froi)i  side  to  side,  expecting  to 
recover  his  moral  indifference  or  com- 
posure. But  still  his  sleep  goes  from 
him,  and  he  bethinks  him  of  measures  j 
for  wooing  it  back.  When  he  has  been 
similarly  situated  before,  he  has  per- 
haps had  recourse  to  the  fascinations 
of  the  Avorld  ;  he  has  summoned  plea- 
sure with  her  lyre,  and  her  syren 
strains  have  soothed  him  into  quiet. 
Shall  he  take  the  same  course  now'? 
It  would  be  natural  that  he  should; 
but  he  feels  a  sort  of  disposition  to 
try  another  mode  ;  it  is  secretly  sug- 
gested to  him  that  the  book  of  the  re- 
cord of  the  chronicles  might  give  him 
some  repose,  that  the  Bible  might 
hush  his  agitation,  were  it  read  to  him 
by  those  whose  office  it  is  to  press 
home  its  truths.  And  thus  is  he  lite- 
rally situated  as  was  the  Persian  king 
on  that  eventful  night,  when  the  fate 
of  the  Jews,  and  of  the  world,  seemed 
to  hang  upon  a  thread.  He  is  acted  on 
as  was  the  king;  and  there  is  nothing 
to  prevent  his  resisting  as  the  king 
might  have  resisted.  He  may  say  to 
himself,  "The  Bible  is  a  dull  book, 
preachers  are  melancholy  persons ;  I 
will  try  something  more  likely  to  dis- 
sipate my  fears,  and  restore  my  com- 
posure :  give  me  the  romance,  or  the  co- 
medy, rather  that  thebo^k  of  the  chro- 
nicles ;  give  me  my  jovial  companions, 
rather  than  the  ministers  of  religion." 
Ahasuerus  might  have  done  this,  and 
thereby  would  he  have  resisted  prompt- 
ings which  were  not  of  his  own  mind, 
though  they  gave  no  note  of  superna- 
tural origin,  and  have  lost  the  oppor- 
tunity of  freeing  his  kingdom  from  a 
great  impending  calamity.  And  the 
sinner  may  do  this  :  he  may  withstand 
a  suggestion,  which  seems  only  to 
spring  from  a  disturbed  mind,  though 
in  truth  to  be  traced  to  the  Spirit  of 
God  ;  and  thus  may  he  throw  away  a 
golden  opportunity  of  learning  how  to 
flee  from  everlasting  wrath. 

The  special  thing  forced  on  the  con- 
science of  Ahasuerus  through  the  book 
of  the  chronicles,  was,  that  there  was 
one  who  had  done  him  great  service  in 
saving  him  from  death,  and  whom  he 
had  hitherto  requited  with  neglect. 
And  it  is  the  very  same  thing  which 


might  be  forced  on  the  conscience  of 
the  sinner  through  the  reading  or  hear- 
ing of  the  Bible.    There  is  one  who 
has  done  for  him  what  thought  cannot 
measure,  ransoming  him,  by  "the  death 
of  the  cross,"  from  everlasting  pains ; 
but  he  has  hitherto  refused  to  acknow- 
ledge this  Savior,  and  has  given  him, 
in  return,  onlj'^  hatred  or  contempt.  So 
accurately  is  a  case  of  most  common 
occurrence,  that  of  the   unconverted 
man   moved   by   God's   Spirit  to  give 
heed  to  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  portray- 
ed in  that  of  the  Persian  king,  prompt- 
ed,  in   his   restlessness,    to    hear   the 
chronicles   of  the    empire.    And   what 
we  would  again  and  again  impress  up- 
on you  is,  that  you  are  not  to  think  of 
recognizing  the  operations  of  the  Spi- 
rit of  God  by  any  supernatural  tokens, 
as  though,  whensoever  that  agent  is  at 
work    in    your    breasts,   you    must  be 
aware  of  his  presence,  and  able  to  dis- 
tinguish his  movements  from  those  of 
the  conscience  and  the  will.    The  se- 
cret uneasiness,  the  impulse  to  prayer, 
the  sense  of  something  wrong,  the  dis- 
position to  hear  the  word  of  God — 
these    may   not    startle   you   by  their 
strangeness ;  these  may  seem  to  you 
quite  natural,  as  naturally  produced  as 
suggestions  of  an  opposite   character 
— but  know  ye  of  a  truth,  that  these 
are  what  the  Holy  Ghost  causes;  that 
these   may  perhaps  be  all  Avhich  the 
Holy  Ghost  will  cause  ;  and,  therefore, 
that  if  ye  will  not  yield  to  these,  and 
will  not  act  on  these,  there  is  a  fearful 
probability  of  your  being  forsaken  of 
God,   and   left   to   your   own   devices. 
Wait  not  for  miracles — God's  ordina- 
ry workings  are  through  very  simple 
means.    We  do  not  read  of  any  thun- 
derclap which  awakened    Ahasuerus ; 
he  was  restless,  but  perhaps  could  give 
no  account  of  his  restlessness.    If  he 
had    been   asked,    he    would   probably 
1  have  mentioned  the  heat  of  the  wea- 
1  ther,  or  over-excitement,  or  something 
of  which  he  had  eaten.    But,  all  the 
I  while,  God  was  in  that  sleeplessness, 
i  for   Avhich    so   many    common  causes 
:  might  have  been  assigned.    And  there 
must    be  those    of  you    who    already 
know,  or  who  will  know,  somethino-  of 
i  a  moral  uneasiness  which  might  admit 
I  of  various   explanations.     There    has 
I  been  no  thunderclap — yet  the  mancan- 
1  not  sleep  ;  and  he  will  perhaps  account 


486 


THE    WELL    OF    BETHLEHEM. 


for  it  from  some  loss  in  his  family,  or 
some  disappointment  in  trade,  or  some 
deficiencj'-  in  health.  But  God  is  in 
that  uneasiness,  that  disquietude,  which 
shows  an  inability  to  settle  down  in 
present  things,  and  a  secret  craving 
for  higher  and  better.  Well  then — 
whensoever  such  a  season  shall  visit 
any  amongst  you,  let  them  be  special- 
ly heedful  of  what  may  be  suggested  to 


their  minds:  they  are  not  disturbed 
for  nothing,  but  that  they  may  be 
prompted  and  urged  towards  religion 
— no  music,  no  revelry,  no  blandish- 
ments:  let  the  records  of  the  chroni- 
cles of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  be 
searched,  and  they  shall  learn  how  the 
snare  may  be  broken,  and  beautiful 
peace  be  permanently  secured. 


SERMON    VII. 


THE    WELL    OF    BETHLEHEM, 


"  And  David  longed,  and  said,  Oli,  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  the  water  of  t'le  v  ell  of  Bethlehem , 
which  is  by  the  gate  !  And  the  three  mighty  men  brake  through  the  host  of  the  Philistines,  and  drew 
water  out  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  that  was  by  the  gate,  and  took  it,  and  brought  it  to  David  : 
nevertheless  he  would  not  drink  thereof,  but  poured  it  out  unto  the  Lord.  And  he  said,  Be  it  far  from 
me,  O  Lord,  that  I  sl.ould  do  this  :  is  not  this  the  blood  of  the  men  that  went  in  jeopardy  of  their 
lives?  therefore  he  woxild  not  drink  it." — 2  Samuel,  23  :  15,  16,  17. 


We  are  not  to  regard  the  Scriptural 
histories  as  mere  registers  of  facts, 
such  as  are  commonly  the  histories  of 
eminent  men :  they  are  rather  selec- 
tions of  facts,  suitableness  for  .pur- 
poses of  instruction  having  regulated 
the  choice.  In  human  biography,  you 
may  say  of  much  that  is  recorded,  that 
it  is  inserted  only  because  it  happened, 
and  because,  therefore,  its  omission 
would  have  destroyed  the  integrity  of 
the  narrative.  But  we  do  not  suppose 
that  the  same  may  be  said  of  Scriptu- 
ral biography  ;  a  fact  is  not  recorded 
merely  because  it  occurred,  as  though 
the  object  were  to  give  the  full  life  of 
some  distinguished  individual ;  a  fact 
is  rather  chosen  for  relation,  out  of 
many  which  are  omitted,  because  ex- 
hibiting some  point,  whether  in  human 
conduct  or  the  divine  dealings,  on 
which  it  is  important  that  attention  be 
turned. 

Occasionally,    indeed,   and  perhaps 


more  frequently  than  is  commonly 
thought,  it  is  because  the  fact  has  a 
typical  character  that  it  is  selected  for 
insertion :  it  prefigures,  or  symboli- 
cally represents,  something  connected 
with  the  scheme  of  redemption,  and  on 
this  account  has  found  place  in  the  sa- 
cred volume.  Neither  is  it  unusual  for 
the  recorded  fact  to  answer  to  both 
these  descriptions:  being  instructive 
in  itself,  and  serving  also  as  an  emblem 
of  truths  that  were  then  taught  only 
by  shadows  and  types.  And  whether, 
in  any  given  instance,  it  be  that  the 
thing  narrated  is  instructive  in  itself, 
or  significative  of  what  God  had  yet 
but  partially  disclosed  ;  or  whether  it 
may  lay  claim  to  both  characters  ;  we 
ought,  at  least,  to  be  careful  that  we 
content  not  ourselves  with  apprehend- 
ing the  facts,  but  study  diligently  what 
lessons  they  may  convey,  and  what 
types  they  may  contain. 
We   make   these    general   remarks 


THE    WELL    OF    BETULLHESI. 


487 


from  a  fear  that,  in  regard  especially 
of  the  Old  Testament  narratives,  there 
is  a  habit  with  many  christians  of  read- 
ing Scriptural  histories  as  registers  of 
facts,  rather  than  as  collections  of  les- 
sons. The  interesting  character  of  the 
narratives  themselves  is  often  likely  to 
induce  or  strengthen  this  habit ;  the 
mind  becomes  so  engaged  with  the 
story,  that  the  instruction  is  disregard- 
ed, or  the  figure  overlooked.  There 
are  others  besides  children  who  can 
be  pleased  with  the  fable,  and  never 
think  of  the  moral.  And  if  we  fail  to 
search  the  Scriptural  narratives  for 
lessons  and  types,  it  is  evident  that  we 
shall  practically  lake  away  from  great 
part  of  the  Bible  its  distinctive  charac- 
ter as  a  record  of  spiritual  truth  ; 
whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  by  always 
looking  for  what  always  exists — mate- 
rial of  instruction — we  may  give  histo- 
ries the  nature  of  homilies,  and  find  the 
events  in  an  individual's  life  prophetic 
of  things  in  which  the  whole  world  has 
interest. 

We  hope  to  show  you,  as  we  pro- 
ceed with  our  discourse,  that  the  nar- 
rative which    we    have   now   selected 
from  the  Old  Testament,  forms  no  ex-  , 
ception  to  the  rule,  but  rather  signally 
illustrates  its  truth.     It  is  exactly  one  ! 
of  those  narratives  which  are  likely  to  I 
be    read  and  admired   for  the   beauty! 
of  the  facts,  rather  than  studied  for  the 
■worth  of  the  lessons.     It  lays  immedi- 
ate and  strong  hold  on  the  imagination,  ] 
having  about  it  that  air    of  chivalry,  ' 
we  might  almost  say  romance,  which 
ordinarily  so    captivates   and  dazzles  i 
the  fancJ^    You  can  hardly  read  it  and 
not  have  before  you  all  the  scenery  of 
the  tented  field,  with  the  mailed  cham- 
pions and  the  floating  banners.     The 
royal  warrior,  David,  is  exhausted  with 
the  fight ;  he  has  .been  in  the  thick  of  j 
the  struggle  with  the  Philistines,  and 
is  now  faint  with  thirst.     In  this  his  I 
weariness  and  languor,  he  is  heard  to  | 
breathe   a 'passionate*  wish  for   water; 
from  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  between 
which  and  himself  lay -the  Philistines, 
so  that  the  well  could  be  reached  only 
by  breaking  through  their  line.     But 
amongst  his  followers   were   men   as 
attached  as  intrepid  ;  with  hearts  de- 
voted to   their  chieftain,    and    hands 
prepared   to    attempt    even    impossi- 
bilities at  his  bidding.    Three  of  the 


most  distinguished  of  these  followers 
heard  the  \Ai&h  which  David  expressed. 
There   was  no    comn:)and    given  :   but 
with  them  a  wish  had  the  force  of  a 
command  ;  and  pausing  not  to  count 
the  peril,  they  rushed  against  the  foe, 
resolved  to    carve  themselves  a  pas- 
j  sage.     It  was  like  rushing  on  destruc- 
I  tion— what    will    their    courage    and 
I  strength   avail    against   a   mi^liiuide  ! 
1  they  will  be  borne  down  in  the  une- 
j  qua!  struggle  ;  and  even  if  they  reach 
1  the  well  their  retreat  will  be  cut  of) 
and  they  must  perish  in  the   effort  to 
return.    And  yet— so  did  the  Almighty 
favor  the    bold  enterprise— they   si;c- 
ceeded  in  breaking  through  the  host  : 
you  may  trace  their  course  by  the  stir^ 
the  tumult,  and  the  crash  ;  the  enemy 
falls  in  heaps  before  them  ;  now  they 
are  by  the  side  of  the    cold  flowing 
founiain:   they    stay    not    to  quench 
their  own  thirst;  they  dip,  it  may  be, 
a  helmet  in  the  waters,    and  hasten' 
with  that  warrior's  cup,  to  attempt  a 
second  time  the  passage.    Perhaps  the 
Phihstmes   scarcely  offered  fresh  re- 
sistance ;   these  three  men  may  have 
seemed  to  them    more    than   mortal; 
they    may  have    divided    at  their  ap- 
proach, and  allowed   them   to  return 
unopposed  to  the  army  of  Israel. 

And  David  must  have  been  aware  of 
this  desperate  sally;  he  must  have 
known  tliat  the  choicest  of  his  war- 
riors had  thrown  themselves,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, on  certain  death,  in  hopes  of 
gratifying  his  wish  ;  and  deep  must 
have  been  his  anxieties,  and  fervent 
his  prayers,  for  those  whom  his  incon- 
siderateness  had  placed  in  such  peril. 
But  the  shout  of  his  troops  tells  him 
that  his  brave  captains  are  safe ;  they 
approach,  stained  with  the  blood  of  the 
Philistines,  and  perhaps  with  their 
own  :  they  bow  before  their  king,  pre- 
sent the  sparkling  draught,  and  ask  no 
reward  but  the  pleasure  oS:  seeing  him 
refreshed.  And  David  holds  the  hel- 
met in  his  hands,  but  raises  it  not 
to  his  lips:  the  thirst  consumes  him, 
for  it  has  been  ao-oravated  through 
the  feverish  dread  That  the  bold  men 
would  perish  ;  but  the  water,  fresh  and 
pure  though  it  was,  looked  to  him  like 
the  blood  of  those  who  had  jeopardied 
their  lives;  he  felt  compunction  at 
^^^J.'"ff,rashly  given  utterance  to  a  wi*h 
which  had  produced  so  daring  a  deed  ; 


4S8 


THE    WELL    OF    BETHLEHEM. 


and  he  will  punish  himself  for  the  fault ; 
he  refuses  to  drink,  and  pours  the  wa- 
ter on  the  ground  as  a  libation  to  the 
Lord. 

What  a  picture  !  Every  one  is  fami- 
liar with  the  story  of  our  own  warrior, 
who,  mortally  wounded,  and  parched 
Avith  the  death-thirst,  received  a  cup 
of  water,  but  observing,  as  he  raised  it 
to  his  lips,  the  eye  of  a  dying  soldier 
rest  wistfully  upon  it,  handed  it  to  him 
and  bade  him  drink  it,  as  needing  it 
yet  more  than  himself.  But  we  know 
not  whether  the  history  before  us  do 
not  present  a  still  fmer  subject  for  the 
painter.  It  does  not  seem  as  though 
David  had  to  choose  between  quench- 
incr  his  own  thirst  and  that  of  another. 
There  may  have  been  no  gasping  war- 
rior at  his  feet  to  move  sympathy  by 
the  glassy  eye  and  the  clotted  lip.  It 
was  simply  at  the  suggestion  of  con- 
science that  he  put  from  him  the 
longed-for  draught  ;  and  there  was  all 
the  more  of  greatness,  because  there 
was  apparently  so  little  to  prompt  the 
self-denial. 

But  we  need  not  take  pains  to  give 
interest  and  coloring  to  the  narrative. 
The  risk,  as  we  have  hinted,  is  all  the 
other  way — that  you  may  be  so  attract- 
ed by  the  chivalrous  circumstances,  by 
the  displayed  bravery  and  magnanimity 
as  to  think  nothing  of  homely  and  per- 
sonal lessons  with  which  the  registered 
incidents  are  assuredly  fraught.  We 
have,  therefore,  now  to  engage  you 
exclusively  with  these  lessons.  We 
wish  you  to  observe- what  there  may 
have  been  to  blame,  and  what  to  ap- 
prove, in  the  conduct  of  David  ;  and 
to  note,  with  like  attention,  the  con- 
duct of  his  servants.  This  sufTicient- 
ly  defines  what  we  have  to  attempt 
through  the  remainder  of  our  dis- 
course ;  we  will  take,  first,  the  con- 
duct of  the  three  warriors,  and,  se- 
condly, that  of  David,  and  examine 
what,  in  each  case,  there  may  be  whe- 
ther to  condemn  or  to  copy. 

Now  the  three  warriors  must  be  sur- 
veyed as  servants  of  David,  men  en- 
gaged to  obey  his  commands,  and  ex- 
ecute his  will  to  the  utmost  of  their 
power.  And  their  conduct  then  appears 
very  admirable,  as  far  removed  as  can 
well  be  imagined  from  that  calculating 
and  niggardly  obedience,  which  betrays 
a  disposition  to  do  the  least  possible, 


to  render  as  little  to  a  master  as  that 
master  can  be  prevailed  on  to  accept. 
We  need  not  touch  the  question  as  to 
\yhether  these  warriors  were  justified 
in  running  such  a  risk,  whether  it  were 
unlawful,  or  not,  to  make  the  attempt 
to  which  they  were  prompted  by  the 
expressed  wish  of  David.  It  may  have 
been  unlawful;  there  must  have  been 
a  point  at  which  obedience  to  God 
would  have  forbidden  obedience  to 
their  king;  but  we  have  no  means  for 
accurately  judging  whether  this  point 
had  been  reached  in  the  case  now  be- 
fore us.  We  may,  therefore,  waive  all 
reference  to  the  right  or  the  wrong,  of 
the  resolve  to  cut  a  path  to  the  waters 
of  Bethlehem;  we  have  simply  to  do 
with  the  power  which  a  mere  wish  of 
David  had  over  his  servants,  for  we 
may  hence  derive  a  lesson  for  all  ser- 
vants, whether  of  God  or  of  man. 

You  are  to  observe  that  David  issued 
no  command.  He  might  have  summon- 
ed the  bravest  of  his  battalions,  and 
bidden  them  attempt  the  forcing  a  pas- 
sage to  the  well ;  but  nothing  of  the 
kind  was  done:  he  simply  uttered  a 
wish,  without,  perhaps,  thinking  that 
he  should  be  overheard,  and  certainly 
without  designing  that  it  should  be  in- 
terpreted as  a  command.  But  the  wish 
was  sufficient  for  bold  and  true-hearted 
men,  and  they  instantly  faced  death  to 
attempt  its  gratification.  And  we  say 
of  these  servants,  thus  yielding  as  rea- 
dy an  obedience  to  an  overheard  wish 
as^  could  have  been  rendered  to  the 
most  positive  order,  that  they  rebuke 
many  of  ourselves,  who,  whether  it  be 
their  Creator,  or  their  fellow-creatures, 
by  whom  they  are  employed,  seem  on- 
ly anxious  to  reduce  their  service  to 
the  smallest  possible  amount.  There 
is  an  example  set  by  these  warriors  to 
every  man  who  is  called  on  for  obedi- 
ence,  which  fits  the  history  before  us 
I  to  be  inscribed  on  our  kitchens,  our 
I  shops,  and  our  churches.  The  exam- 
ple lies  in  their  not  having  waited  for 
'  a  command,  but  acted  on  a  wish  ;  and 
]  there  is  no  man  to  whom  the  term  ser- 
I  vant  applies — and  it  applies  to  every 
j  man,  at  least  with  reference  to  God  — 
I  who  would  not  do  well  to  ponder  the 
:  example,  and  consider  whether  he  be 
I  not  yet  far  below  such  a  model. 
j  If  you  take  the  case  of  servants,  as 
the  term  is  commonly  applied,  is  not 


THE    WELL    OF    EETIILEIlEai. 


489 


\ 


iheir  service,  (or  the  most  part,  a  sort 
of  labor  to  do  no  more  than  they  can 
help,  an  endeavor  to  earn  their  wages 
with  as  little  outlay  of  toil  as  their  em- 
ployers  will   consent   to   remunerate  '\ 
Servants,    even    servants    "  professing 
godliness,"  seem  to  have  practically  but 
little  remembrance  of  the  precept  of  St. 
Paul,  "  not  with  eye-service  as  men- 
pleasers."    It  is  almost  all  "  eye-ser- 
vice," and  flags  in  proportion  as  in- 
spection is  withdrawn.    It    is   a   rare 
thing  to  find  a  servant  who  will  dili- 
gently   obey    your     commands ;     but 
where  shall  we  look  for  one  who  will 
carefully  consult   your    wishes  1    And 
we  do  not  know  that  a  more  annoying 
argument   is  to   be   found   against  the 
advantageousness  of  a  diffused  chris- 
tian education,  than  is  apparently  fur- 
nished by  a  fact  which  it  is  not  easy  to 
gainsay,  that,  in  place  of  an  improved 
race  of  servants  having  resulted  from 
an  improved  system  of  general  instruc- 
tion, we  have  less  diligent,  less  oblig- 
ing,  and   less  trustworthy   domestics. 
We  are  sure  as  to  the  unsoundness  of 
the  argument,  because  we  are  sure,  on 
tmassailable  principles,  that  the  know- 
ledge of  God  in  Christ  will  make  men, 
from  the  prince  to  the  peasant,  fitter 
for    whatsoever    duties    appertain   to 
their  station.    But,  nevertheless,  when 
the  appeal  is  to  results,  to  the  testimo- 
ny of  experience,  not  of  theory,  it  does 
involve  the  advocate  of  national  educa- 
tion in  no  ordinary  difiiculty,  that  the 
opponent  can  enter  our  households  and 
ask,   with  much    semblance    of  truth, 
what,    comparatively,   has   become    of 
those  attached,   steadfast,  and  consci- 
entious servants,  who  had  no  interest 
separate   from  their   master's,  and   no 
wish  but  that  of  executing  his?    And 
servants,  who  have  enjoyed  all  the  su- 
perior advantages  of  modern  days,  and 
yet  are  palpably  inferior  to  the  servants 
of  former — restless,  rude,  dishonest — 
little  know  how  much  they  may  con- 
tribute towards  such  disgust  amongst 
the  rich  at  the  instruction  of  the  poor, 
as  will  prompt  an  endeavor  to  re-es- 
tablish the  ignorance  which  consisted 
with  something  praiseworthy,  as  pre- 
ferable to  the  knowledge  which  threat- 
ens to  issue  in  confusion. 

Neither  is  it  only  to  servants,  in  the 
common  sense  of  the  word,  that  the 
example  before  us  applies.    The  same 


holds  good  generally  of  the  employed, 
whatever  the  nature  of  the  employ- 
ment. It  ought  to  be  the  ruling  princi- 
ple with  him  who  serves  another  in  any 
capacity,  to  serve  him  upon  principle, 
to  identify  himself  with  his  employer, 
and  to  have  the  same  eye  to  his  inter- 
ests as  though  they  were  his  own.  If  a 
man  buy  my  time,  and  I  do  not  devote 
to  him  that  time,  there  is  robbery  as 
actual  as  though  he  had  bought  my 
merchandize  and  I  then  sold  it  to  ano- 
ther. If  he  pay  me  for  my  labor,  and  I 
in  any  measure  withhold  it,  then,  up  to 
that  measure,  there  is  as  palpable  fraud 
as  if  he  bargained  for  my  goods  and 
I  used  a  false  balance.  The  indolent 
I  clerk,  the  idle  shopman,  the  careless 
I  agent — I  see  no  moral  difference  be- 
tween these  and  the  grossly  dishonest 
who  tamper  with  the  property  of  their 
employers.  And  if  a  general  rule  be 
required  for  the  guidance  of  those  who 
are  in  any  kind  of  service,  we  fetch  it 
from  the  example  of  David's  three  cap- 
tains, with  whom  a  wish  had  all  the 
force  of  a  command.  It  is  not  that  this 
rule  v/ill- furnish  specific  direction  in 
each  specific  case  ;  but  that  he,  who 
acts  up  to  it,  will  be  keeping  in  ex- 
ercise the  motives  and  dispositions 
which  will  ensure  the  right  course  un- 
der all  possible  circumstances.  He  who 
consults  wishes  as  well  as  commands, 
or  with  whom  a  known  wish  is  as  bind- 
ing as  an  express  command,  will  neces- 
sarily feel  at  all  times  under  the  eye  of 
his  employer;  or,  rather,  Avill  know  no 
difference  when  that  eye  is  upon  him 
and  when  turned  away.  His  whole  aim 
will  be  to  act  for  the  employer  as  the 
employer  would  act  for  himself;  and 
it  is  evident  that  nothing  can  be  added 
to  such  a  description,  if  you  wish  to 
include  singleness  of  purpose,  sinceri- 
ty, diligence,  and  faithfulness. 

And  you  have  only  to  contrast,  in 
your  own  minds,  the  servant  who  will 
do  nothing  but  what  is  positively,  and, 
in  so  many  words,  commanded,  and 
another  who  watches  the  very  looks 
of  his  master,  that  he  may  read  his 
wishes  and  take  them  for  laws,  to  as- 
sure j'oursclves  th^  the  feature  of 
good  service  which~Ave  derive  from 
the  conduct  of  the  captains  of  David 
rather  gives  the  whole  character  than 
a  solitary  mark.  Yea,  consider  men  in 
general  as  the  servants  of  God — of  God 
G2 


490 


THE    AVELl.    OF    BETHLEHEM. 


who  expressly  saj^s,  "  I  will  guide  thee 
with  mine  eye,"  as  though  a  look  were 
to  suffice  ;  and  this  feature  will  distin- 
guish the  true  and  the  earnest  from  the 
hypocritical  and  the  lukewarm.  Let  us 
ask  ourselves  whether,  unhappily,  it  be 
not  the  too  common  disposition  of  those 
Avho  make  profession  of  godliness,  to 
pare  down  as  much  as  possible  the  ser- 
vice required  at  their  hands,  to  calcu- 
late  how  small  a  sacrifice,   and  how 
slight  an  endurance,  will  consist  with 
their  being  reckoned  amongst  the  mem- 
bers of  Christ  1    In  place  of  a  generous 
zeal  to  give  up  every  thing  for  God, 
and   such  a   fear  of  offending  him  as 
would  make  them  avoid  what  is  indif- 
ferent  lest   they    indulge    in    what   is 
wrong,  men  are  apt  to  compute  how 
far   they  may  venture    in  compliance 
with  the  world,  how  near  they  may  go 
to  the  forbidden  thing,  and  yet  not  lose 
the  distinctive  character  of  the  people 
of  Christ,    It  should  not  content  the 
Christian  that  such  or  such  an  indul- 
gence is  not  prohibited  by  the  letter  of 
the  law ;  he  should  search  whether  it 
be  not  prohibited  by  the  spirit.  In  cases 
where  there  really  may  be  a  doubt  as 
to  the  lawfulness,  he  should  determine 
for  the  course  which  is  the  most  likely 
to  be  right;   and,   if  the  scales  hang 
even,  for  that  to  which  he  has  the  less 
inclination.    This  would  be  true  Chris- 
tian obedience,  an  obedience  of  which 
love  is  the  law.    God  dealeth  with  us 
as  with  children  rather  than  servants 
— not  laying  down  an  express  precept 
for  every  possible  case,  but  supposing 
in  us  a  principle  which  will  always  lead 
to  our  considering  what  will  be  pleas- 
ing to  himself,  and  to  our  taking  his 
pleasure  as  our  rule.    And  just  as  the 
affectionate  child  will  watch  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  parent,  obeying  what  he 
reads  there  as  well  as  what  he  hears 
from  the  lip,   so   should  the  Christian 
search  for  the  least  indication  of  God's 
Avill  and  give  it  all  the  force  of  a  posi- 
tive statute. 

But  can  we  say  that  we  do  this"?  Can 
we  deny,  that,  for  the  most  part,  we 
rather  compute  how  little  God  will 
take  than  ho\«^iuch  we  can  give  ; 
what  may  be  \mhheld,  than  what  sur- 
rendered 1  That  a  thing  is  doubtful, 
<loes  not  make  us  shun  it  as  though  it 
were  wrong :  we  are  more  disposed, 
under  the  plea  of  its  being  dubious,  to 


adopt  it  as  right.    It   is  not  sufficient 
for  us,  that  God  is  likely  to  be  better 
pleased   if  we   abstain   than   if  Ave  in- 
dulge :    we  urge  the   want  of  express 
command,  and    are    secretly  gratified 
that  it  does  not  exist.    Alas,  then,  how 
are  Ave  reproved  by  the  warriors  of  Da- 
vid 1  What  Christians  should  we  be,  if, 
Avith  them,  a  Avish  Avere  law  enough  to 
arm  us  against  danger  and  death!    Go 
in  thought  to  the  field  of  battle,  where 
Israel  is  ranged  against  the  Philistine, 
Avhen  you  may  feel  inclined  to  evade  a 
painful  duty  under  the  plea  of  its  not 
being  distinctly  enjoined.     When  you 
would  excuse  yourselves  from  making 
a  sacrifice,  foregoing  an  indulgence,  or 
attempting  a  difhculty,  by  urging,  that 
though  it  might  be  acceptable  to  God, 
at  least  he  has  not  made  it  indispensa- 
ble, observe  what  the  servants  of  an 
earthly  king  could  do  in  the  absence 
of  command,  and  let  the  servants  of  a 
heavenly  blush  to  do  less.     Who  are 
these   that  rush  upon  the   enemy,  as 
though  they  knew  nothing  of  danger 
and  bore  a  charm  against  death  ]    We 
see    three    A\-arriors    press    along    the 
plain;    their   Avhole   demeanor   is    that 
of  those    charged   Avith    some    fearful 
commission ;  the   fate    of  a   kingdom 
has  surely  been  given  into  their  keep- 
ing ;  they  are  urging  forwards  Avith  the 
desperateness  of  men  bidden,  on  some 
authority  Avhich  they  dare  not  resist, 
to  attempt  an  enterprise  involving  the 
safety  of  thousands.     Not    so:    these 
warriors  might  have  remained  inactive 
and  yet  been  guilty  of  no  positive  dis- 
obedience to  their  leader.    They  have 
received  no   directions  obliging  them 
to  draw  the  sword  and  hew  a  passage. 
They  Avere  just  in  the  position  in  Avhich 
you  yourselves  often  are,  Avith  no  com- 
mand from  a  master,  but  Avith  some  in- 
timation of  a  Avish.    And  they  are  bur. 
setting  an  example  to  the  A\'arriors  of 
Christ— an  example   as  to  the  taking 
every  indication    of   the    Avish,  as    an 
expression   of    the   Avill    of   our  Lord, 
seeing  that  they  are  cutting  their  way 
through  the  hosts  of  the  Philistine,  not 
because  they  have  heard  David  exclaim, 
"  Unsheath    the   sAvord,   and    dare   the 
foe;"  but  only  because  they  have  heard 
him  say,  "  Oh  that  one  Avould  give  m«- 
drink  of  the  Avater  of  the  well  of  Belli 
lehem." 

But  let  us  now  pass  from  the  con- 


THE    WELL    OF    BETHLEHEM. 


491 


duct  of  the  servants  to  that  of  David,  ! 
in  which  there  is  matter,  as  it  would  j 
seem,  for  blame  as  well  as  praise.  You 
may  be  sure,  that,  if  we  have  spoken 
with  something  like  severity  of  ser- 
vants, it  has  not  been  in  forgetfulness 
of  how  much,  after  all,  the  goodness 
of  the  servant  depends  upon  the  mas- 
ter. We  never  hear  an  instance  of  a 
domestic  growing  old  in  one  family, 
without  feeling  ihat  it  tells  well  for 
both  sides ;  if  a  good  master  will  not  | 
keep  a  bad  servant  long,  neither  will  a  j 
bad  master  long  keep  a  good.  It  must,  j 
in  truth,  be  through  a  mutual  system 
of  forbearance  and  accommodation, 
that  any  thing  like  harmony  is  main- 
tained in  the  several  relations  of  life  : 
to  expect  always  to  prescribe,  and  ne- 
ver to  concede,  shows  an  ignorance  of 
human  character  and  condition,  which 
is  sure  to  be  visited  with  opposition 
and  thwarting.  They  who  look  to  be 
obeyed  cheerfully,  must  take  heed  that 
they  command  judiciously  5  the  great- 
er the  knov/n  readiness  to  comply  with 
their  wishes,  the  greater  should  be  the 
caution  that  those  wishes  be  always 
reasonable  and  just. 

And  herein  was  David  much  in  fault; 
for,  knowing  the  devoiedness  of  his 
followers,  their  attachment  to  his  per- 
son, and  their  uncalculating  bravery  in 
his  cause,  he  should  have  been  all  the 
more  careful  to  give  utterance  to  nei- 
ther a  command  nor  a  wish  which  he 
had  not  well  weighed,  or  with  which 
he  did  not  desire  a  literal  compliance. 
It  was  not  fitting  in  a  man,  who  had 
learnt,  by  experience,  that  the  warm 
hearts  about  him  would  obey  his  very 
look,  to  express  a  rash  longing — and 
such,  at  least,  was  that  for  water 
from  Bethlehem.  We  have  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  there  was  no  water  in 
the  camp,  or  that  none  could  have 
been  procured  from  more  accessible 
springs.  Perhaps  the  well  of  Bethle- 
hem was  celebrated  for  its  water  ;  or 
perhaps  David,  as  having  been  born 
and  brought  up  in  Bethlehem,  had  a 
special  atlection  for  the  fountain  of 
which  he  had  drunk  in  his  youth. 
This  longing  for  the  well  of  Bethle- 
hem in  an  hour  of  danger  and  strife, 
may  have  been  one  of  those  instances 
of  the  travelling  back  of  the  mind  to 
the  days  and  scenes  of  boyhood,  which 
are  so  common  and  so  touching  amid 


the  woes  and  struggles  of  more  ad- 
vanced life  ;  the  fields  where  we  once 
played  seeming  to  mock  us  by  their 
greenness,  and  the  well-remembered 
waters  and  trees  sparkling  and  waving 
before  the  eye,  as  though  to  reproach 
our  having  abandoned  what  was  so 
peaceful  and  pure  for  the  whirl  and 
din  of  the  world.  It  may  have  been 
thus  with  David :  his  circumstances 
were  now  harassing  and  perplexed, 
and,  as  he  felt  his  difficulties  and  per- 
ils, the  imagery  of  his  youth  may  have 
come  thronging  before  him — himself  a 
shepherd-boy,  and  his  flock  grazing  on 
the  bank  of  a  quiet  glassy  stream  ;  and 
it  may  have  been  but  an  expression  of 
something  like  regret  that  days  were 
so  changed,  when  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh 
that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  the 
water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem  which 
is  by  the  gate." 

But,  whatever  were  the  uppermost 
feeling  in  the  mind  of  David,  we  may 
fall  back  upon  our  assertion,  that,  cir- 
cumstanced as  he  was,  it  ought  not  to 
have  been  expressed.  Indeed,  even 
had  he  not  had  such  reason  to  know 
that  those  around  him  were  on  the 
watch  for  the  intimation  of  his  wishes, 
he  would  not  have  been  warranted  in 
giving  words  to  a  desire,  that  others 
would  risk  life  just  to  gratify  himself. 
There  is  all  the  difTerence  between  the 
feeling  and  the  expressing  a  desire  ; 
we  are  not  necessarily  answerable  for 
the  former — we  must  be  for  the  latter  : 
even  as  an  evil  thought  may  be  darted 
into  the  mind,  we  cannot  tell  whence, 
and  we  be  innocent  notwithstanding; 
but  the  thought  cannot  be  embodied  in 
speech  and  we  not  be  guilty.  If  Da- 
vid's wish  were  harmless,  as  breathed 
only  to  himself,  it  was  not  so  as  declared 
to  iiis  servants  :  he  must  have  known 
its  gratification  impossible,  except  at 
the  risk  of  many  lives.  Not  that  we 
suppose  that  David  entertained  any 
thought  of  his  wish  being  acted  upon  ; 
in  all  likelihood  it  never  crossed  his 
mind  that  the  desperate  sally  would 
be  made.  But  it  is  precisely  in  this 
that  he  was  to  blame  ;  it  ought  to  have 
crossed  his  mind  :  lie  would  not  issue 
a  command  which  he  did  not  mean  to 
be  obeyed  ;  neither,  circumstanced  and 
surrounded  as  he  was,  should  he  have 
hinted  a  wish,  if  he  did  not  design  the 
o-ratification  to  be  attempted. 


492 


THE    WELL    OF    BETnLEHEM. 


And  it  is  here  that  we  may  obtain 
some  general  rules  which  all  who  have 
authority  would  do  well  to  adopt.  You 
see  that,  in  proportion  as  you  are  faith- 
fully and  aflectionately  served,  you  are 
bound  to  be  careful  how  you  issue  a 
command  or  breathe  a  desire.  Take 
it  as  the  perfection  of  a  servant,  to  be 
anxious  only  to  know,  that  he  may  do, 
his  master's  will ;  and  it  is  the  per- 
fection of  a  master,  to  manifest  no 
will  but  what  his  servant  may  be  able, 
and  with  good  conscience,  to  perform. 
There  can  be  no  tyranny  greater, 
and  none  more  ungenerous,  than  that 
which,  taking  advantage  of  the  con- 
dition or  attachment  of  a  domestic, 
imposes  duties  which  are  too  severe, 
or  tasks  which  are  unlawful.  I  may  feel 
that  a  servant  is  either  so  dependent 
upon  me,  or  so  devoted  to  my  wishes, 
that  he  will  tell  a  lie  at  my  bidding,  and 
assure  the  visiter  that  I  am  from  home 
when  he  knows  me  in  the  house.  But 
what  is  to  be  said  of  my  baseness,  my 
cruelty,  in  prescribing  to  a  fellow-crea- 
ture over  whom  I  have  some  kind  of 
power,  that  he  should  do  what  he  can- 
not do,  and  not  oflend  the  God  of 
truth !  I  may  not  actually  mean  him 
to  tell  a  lie  ;  1  may  suppose  that  there 
is  a  sort  of  conventional  understanding 
in  society  which  causes  a  certain  sense 
to  be  put  on  the  phrase  which  I  dic- 
tate :  but  it  is  too  much  to  expect  that 
the  fine-drawn  distinction  should  be 
perceived  by  the  servant;  his  feeling 
must  be  that  he  has  told  a  direct  false- 
hood for  my  sake ;  and  it  is  hardly 
reasonable  to  require  that  he  should 
not,  at  other  times,  tell  one  for  his  own. 

And  this  is  but  a  particular  case, 
which  may  be  taken  to  illustrate  the 
general  rule.  The  general  rule  is, 
that,  in  every  command,  in  every 
wish,  there  be  due  consideration  for 
the  ability,  the  comfort,  and  the  con- 
science of  the  domestic.  No  longing 
for  the  water  of  Bethlehem,  if  it  can- 
not be  had  but  by  strength  unduly 
tasked,  time  so  engrossed  that  none 
remains  for  prayer,  or  principle  so  dis- 
regarded that  man's  law  supersedes 
God's. 

Neither  is  this  all  which  should  be 
gathered  or  inferred  from  the  circum- 
stances under  review.  You  see  how 
easily  what  was  never  meant  as  a 
command   may  be    received   as  such, 


where  there  is  affectionate  watchful- 
ness amongst  friends  and  attendants. 
Then  what  care  should  there  be,  that 
nothing  be  said  in  joke  which  may  be 
taken  in  earnest,  nothing  even  hinted 
at  as  our  belief  or  desire,  which  we 
would  not  have  acted  on  by  those  who 
hear  the  words.  It  is  specially  to  chil- 
dren that  this  remark  applies  ;  for  they 
may  be  supposed  to  have  all  that  sub- 
missiveness  to  authority,  and  that  wil- 
lingness to  oblige,  which  distinguish- 
ed David's  warriors,  as  well  as  that 
inability  of  discriminating  a  casual 
expression  from  an  actual  direction, 
which  seems  equally  to  have  belonged 
to  the  men,  who  felt  themselves  bidden 
to  attempt  the  passage  to  Bethlehem, 
The  child,  from  his  age,  can  know  lit- 
tle of  any  figures  of  speech,  and  will 
commonly  adopt  the  literal  interpreta- 
tion ;  thus,  what  was  never  meant  to 
be  seriously  understood  may  exert  all 
the  force  of  precept  or  instruction.  In 
this  way  may  indiscreet  conversation, 
to  which  they  who  carry  it  on  attach 
no  importance,  and  which  they  never 
dream  of  any  one's  taking  as  express- 
ing their  actual  thoughts  and  feelings, 
be  received  by  young  minds  with  all 
the  reverence  which  they  are  taught 
to  render  unto  truth.  Disciplined  to 
respect  their  superiors,  and,  therefore, 
to  attach  credit  to  their  words — in- 
structed to  obey  them  implicitly,  and, 
therefore,  to  consult  their  very  wishes, 
it  can  hardly  fail  but  that  what  is  ut- 
tered, in  their  presence  will  pass  for 
"true,  and  what  is  desired  appear  worth 
being  sought.  And  probably  children 
often  imbibe  opinions,  which  form  the 
foundation  of  character,  from  casual 
expressions  dropped  in  their  hearing, 
and  which,  had  explanation  been  asked, 
they  would  have  found  to  have  been 
spoken  without  thought  and  almost 
without  meaning.  Who  shall  tell  us 
the  effect  of  a  joke  upon  sacred  things, 
the  levity  of  which  may  have  been  par- 
doned by  elder  persons  for  the  sake  of 
the  wit,  but  the  irreverence  of  which 
may  sink  deep  into  younger,  and  work 
a  half  persuasion  that  the  Bible,  after 
all,  is  not  that  awful  volume  with 
which  it  were  sacrilege  to  trifle  1  Who 
shall  tell  us  Vv'hat  is  done  by  discourse 
on  the  advantageousness  of  wealth, 
and  by  hasty  wishes,  perhaps  thought- 
lessly uttered,   for  larger  measure  of 


THE    WELL    OF    EETHLEnEM. 


493 


earthly  possessions!  The  seeds  of 
covetousness  may  have  been  sown  in 
the  young  hearer,  when  the  speaker 
himself  has  been  indifferent  to  money  j 
and  the  child  of  a  parent  who  is  actu- 
ally content  with  a  little,  may  grow 
up  with  a  passion  for  much,  from  ha- 
ving overheard  the  parent  talk  as 
though  he  desired  a  far  ampler  for- 
tune. 

You  may  tell  us  that  we  assign 
causes  disproportionate  to  effects:  as 
well  tell  us  that  the  oak  cannot  spring 
from  the  acorn.  Life  is  made  up  of 
little  things ;  and  human  character, 
traced  to  its  beginning,  will  be  found 
issuing  from  drops  rather  than  from 
fountains.  You  ought,  therefore,  when 
speaking  before  those  whom  you  in- 
struct to  respect  and  obey  you,  to 
speak  on  the  supposition  that  all 
which  you  assert  will  be  received  as 
true,  all  for  which  you  wish  be  ac- 
counted desirable.  You  must  not 
think  aloud,  if  you  do  not  mean  your 
thoughts  to  pass  for  verities  or  have 
the  weight  of  commands.  If  such  a 
rule  be  neglected,  you  must  not  be 
surprised  if  they  who  hear  you  enter 
upon  the  paths  which  you  never  meant 
them  to  tread,  and  afterwards  plead 
your  authority  in  excuse.  There  may 
again  occur  precisely  what  occurred 
with  David  and  his  servants.  It  is  not 
that  the  monarch  has  commanded  his 
warriors  to  dare  death,  that  they  may 
fetch  him  water  from  a  favorite  spring. 
It  is  not  that  he  has  even  washed  them 
to  undertake  the  rash  and  perilous  en- 
terprise. It  is  only  that,  without  re- 
flection or  thought,  he  gave  utterance 
to  something  that  was  passing  in  his 
mind,  and  that  those  about  him  over- 
heard the  inconsiderate  expression. 
And  do  you  mark  that  young  person, 
who  is  devoting  himself  with  uncalcu- 
lating  eagerness  to  some  worldly  pur- 
suit, as  though  he  had  been  trained  to 
nothing  but  the  acquisition  of  honor 
or  wealth  1  Is  it  that  the  parent  lit- 
erally instructed  him  to  rush  through 
all  danger  that  he  might  but  grasp  the 
coveted  thing  1  Is  it  that  he  was  told, 
in  so  many  words,  to  give  energy,  and 
talent,  and  time,  to  the  obtaining  a 
perishable  good,  so  that  he  can  urge 
the  precept  of  a  father,  whom  he  loved 
and  revered,  as  justifying  a  career  in 
wiiieh  the  object  is  worthless,  if  com- 


pared with  the  risk  and  the  toil  1  Pro- 
bably not  so.  The  parent  never  wish- 
ed him  thus  to  squander  his  powers; 
the  parent  never  thought  that  he  would  ; 
but  that  parent,  having  gained  his  af- 
fections and  secured  his  attention  to 
his  commands  and  his  wishes,  was 
little  careful  as  to  what  he  let  fall  in 
his  hearing;  he  was  apt  to  say  what 
he  did  not  mean,  to  give  words  to 
feelings  which  he  would  never  have 
breathed,  had  he  remembered  the  pos- 
sibility of  their  being  received  as  gen- 
uine, or  interpreted  as  laudable  ;  in 
short,  like  David,  when  nothing  was 
further  from  his  wish  than  that  his 
wish  should  be  acted  on,  he  was  used 
to  utter  exclamations  such  as  this, 
"  O  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of 
the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem 
which  is  by  the  gate." 

But  this  only  sets  before  you  what 
appears  blame-worthj*  in  the  conduct 
of  David  :  we  have  yet  to  consider  what 
there  may  be  to  deserve  praise  or  imi- 
tation. And  this  is  to  be  sought  in 
what  he  did  when  his  followers  return- 
ed, and  placed  before  him  the  water 
for  which  he  had  inconsiderately  long- 
ed. It  would  not  have  been  strange,  or 
unnatural,  had  he  argued  that,  though 
he  had  done  wrong  in  expressing  the 
wish,  it  could  not  be  unlawful  to  use 
the  means  of  gratifying  that  wish  so 
unexpectedly  provided.  He  might  have 
said,  I  would  not  indeed  have  exposed 
the  lives  of  my  brave  soldiers,  in  order 
to  obtain  this  refreshment;  but  now 
that,  unbidden,  and  from  the  warmth 
of  their  attachment,  they  have  cut  their 
way  to  the  well,  and  brought  me  of 
its  flowings,  I  may  surely  quench  my 
thirst,  and  thus  afford  them  the  best 
reward  for  their  zeal  in  my  service. 

But  David  argued  differently,  in  a 
manner  that  showed  more  of  high 
principle,  and  strong  fear  of  God.  He  felt 
that  there  was  a  contradiction,  in  own- 
ing an  action  wrong,  and  allowing  him- 
self to  be  advantaged  by  that  action. 
The  least  which  he  could  do,  in  proof 
of  his  consciousness  of  error,  was  to 
refuse  to  appropriate  what  that  error 
had  procured.  He  must  punish  him- 
self, by  an  act  of  self-denial,  for  a  want 
of  self-command,  and  show  that,  if  he 
had  been  betrayed  into  expressing  a 
rash  wish,  he  had  at  least  discovered, 
and   repented   of,   the   rashness.    And 


49i 


THE    V.'ELL    OF    Er:THLEHEM. 


therefore  he  would  not  taste  the  cov- 
eted draught,  but  made  it  a  kind  of  of- 
fering to  the  Lord,  pouring  it  on  the 
ground,  in  witness  that  he  had  sinned, 
and  that,  having  sinned,  he  needed  an 
expiatory  abhition. 

It  is  not  the  heroism  of  David,  in 
acting  thus,  which  we  propose  for  ad- 
miration and  imitation,  though  it  maj'^ ! 
be,  as  we  stated  in  an  earlier  part  of  i 
our  discourse,  that  the  monarch,  parch-  j 
ed   with    thirst,    and    yet    refusing   to  j 
touch  the  water  which  sparkled  so  in-  i 
vitingly  before  him,  would  form  as  fine 
a  picture  as  human  story  can  give  of, 
forbearance  and   greatness.    But  it  is  ! 
the  genuineness  of  the  repentance  of 
David  on  which  we  would  insist,  the 
sincerity  of  his  piety  as  proved  by  his 
refusal  to  derive  benefit  from  his  sin. 
We  think  that  herein  is  he  specially 
an 'example  to  ourselves,  and  that  the 
cases  are  far  from  uncommon,  in  which 
there  is  such  similarity  of  circumstance,  | 
as  to  render  the  example  most  direct  ' 
and  appropriate.  j 

It  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  ques- 
tioned that  a  present  advantage  is  of- 
ten the  immediate  result  of  what  is 
wrong,  so  that,  in  one  way  or  another, 
the  sin  produces  what  the  sinner  de- 
sires to  obtain.  If  it  were  not  so,  if  the 
consequences  of  doing  wrong  were 
never,  nay,  if  they  were  not  frequent- 
ly, profitable  to  the  individual  who 
does  the  wrong  thing,  we  hardly  know 
where,  in  most  instances,  temptation 
would  lie,  or  where  would  be  the  ex- 
ercise of  virtue.  In  general,  it  is  a 
balance  between  the  present  and  the 
future  which  we  are  required  to  strike  : 
the  great  task  to  which  we  are  sum- 
moned, is  the  not  allowing  ourselves 
to  be  overborne  by  immediate  results, 
so  as  to  keep  more  distant  out  of  sight, 
but  the  calculating  what  will  be  for 
our  profit  on  the  whole,  visible  things 
and  invisible  being  alike  brought  into 
account.  And,  of  course,  whilst  such 
is  our  condition,  or  such  the  system  of 
probation  beneath  which  we  live,  a  sort 
of  temporary  reward  must  often  be  at- 
tainable by  the  sinner:  there  must  be 
something  of  advantage  to  be  procured 
through  \yant  of  principle,  and  lost 
throtigh  rigid  conscientiousness.  Such 
cases  will  often  occur  in  the  stir  and 
jostle  of  a  mercantile  community,  where 
vast  interests  become  so  involved,  and 


immense  revenues  so  depend  on  the 
turn  of  a  single  speculation,  that  the 
least  underhand  dealing  might  at  times 
fill  a  man's  coflers,  and  almost  a  dis- 
honest thought  transform  him  from  the 
poor  to  the  wealthy. 

And  we  are  now  concerned  with  the 
question,  as  to  what  is  binding  on  a 
man,  if,  with  the  advantages,  procured 
by  a  fault,  lying  at  his  disposal,  the 
water  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem 
sparkling  before  him,  he  become  con- 
vinced of  his  fault,  aware  that  he  has 
done  wrong,  or  not  acted  with  the  ho- 
nor and  integrity  which  he  was  bound 
to  have  maintained.  Is  he  to  drink  of 
the  water,  to  enjoy  the  advantages'? 
Ah,  it  may  be  often  a  hard  question  : 
but  we  do  not  see  how  there  can  be 
any  true  penitence,  where  what  has 
been  wrongfully  obtained  is  kept  and 
used,  as  tiiough  it  had  been  the  pro- 
duce of  equitable  dealing.  If  a  man 
have  grown  rich  by  dishonesty,  he 
ought,  we  believe,  to  become  poor 
through  repentance.  We  cannot  think 
it  enough,  if  an  individual,  who  has 
not  made  his  money  in  the  most  clean- 
handed way,  and  who  feels  compunc- 
tion in  consequence,  give  large  sums 
in  charity,  as  an  atonement,  or  repara- 
tion for  his  fault.  If  he  only  give  what 
he  can  conveniently  spare,  or  even  if 
his  charities  somewhat  press  on  his 
resources,  he  certainly  does  nothing 
but  what,  on  high  christian  principle, 
he  would  be  bound  equally  to  do,  had 
his  property  accumulated  in  the  most 
honorable  .modes.  And  it  cannot  be 
sufficient  to  make  that  nse  of  money 
unjustly  acquired,  which  a  man  of 
strong  piety  would  make  of  the  pro- 
duce of  integrity  and  industry,  and 
thus,  over  and  above  the  concealment 
of  having  been  dishonest,  to  acquire 
the  reputation  of  being  benevolent. 

We  should,  therefore,  be  disposed 
to  give  the  conduct  of  David  as  fur- 
nishing an  example  for  those,  who, 
conscious  of  a  fault,  are  so  situated  as 
to  be  able  to  reap  advantage  from  that 
fault.  Let  the  case  be  that  at  which  we 
have  just  hinted,  as  not  unlikely  to  oc- 
cur amid  the  complicated  interests  of 
a  great  mercantile  communitj\  Let  us 
suppose  an  opportunity,  presented  to  a 
trader,  of  making  large  profits,  if  he 
will  but  deviate,  in  some  trifling  par- 
ticular, from  what  is  strictly  and  un- 


THE    WELL    OF    BETHLEHEM. 


495 


doubtedly  upright.  Tiie  fault  to  be 
committed  may  hardly  be  greater  than 
that  committed  by  David,  who  did  no- 
thing but  thoughtlessly  give  utterance 
to  a  wish  which  ought  not  to  have  been 
entertained,  or  at  least  not  expressed. 
It  may  just  depend  on  the  keeping 
back  of  some  piece  of  information 
which  the  trader  is  not  compelled  to 
divulge,  and  which  others,  if  equally 
on  the  alert,  and  equally  shrewd,  might 
perhaps  have  equally  obtained,  whether 
a  certain  article  shall  fetch  a  certain 
price,  or  be  suddenly  and  greatly  de- 
preciated. The  trader  does  nothing 
nut  hold  his  tongue,  as  David  did  no- 
thing but  give  it  too  much  license,  and 
a  large  proMt  in  consequence  lies  at  his 
disposal.  But  now  a  feeling  is  wrought 
in  the  trader's  mind,  that  it  was  not  the 
act  of  a  conscientious  and  high  princi- 
pled man,  to  take  advantage  of  the  ig- 
norance of  others,  and  thus  entangle 
them  in  a  bargain  which  they  would 
not  have  made,  with  his  reasons  for 
expecting  the  sudden  fall  in  the  mar- 
ket.. And  as  he  debates  what  ought  to 
be  done  with  property  so  dubiously 
acquired,  his  first  resolution  will  pro- 
bably be  to  use  it  well  and  religiouslj^ : 
at  least,  he  will  say,  it  increases  my 
power  of  beneiiting  others,  and  pro- 
moting religious  objects;  and  I  may 
lawfully  retain  it,  intending  that  it  shall 
be  thus  employed.  But  this  is,  to  the 
very  letter,  what  David  would  have 
done,  had  he  resolved  to  drink  the  wa- 
ter, arguing  that  it  would  refresh  and 
invigorate  him,  and  thus  enable  him  to 
light  with  greater  strength  the  battle 
of  the  Lord.  But  God  will  have  no  of- 
fering on  which  there  is  a  stain.  JMo- 
ney,  soiled  by  the  mode  of  acquisition, 
is  hardly  to  be  sanctified  by  tlie  mode 
of  employment.  When  Zaccheus  stood 
before  Christ,  and  described  what  he 
did  with  his  property,  he  spake  of  giv- 
ing half  his  goods  to  the  poor;  but, 
mark,  he  did  not  reckon  amongst  those 
goods  what  he  might  have  acquired 
through  underhand  dealing — such  por- 
tion, if  such  there  were,  was  not  his  to 
retain  or  distribute  at  pleasure:  "If  I 
have  taken  any  thing  from  any  man  by 
false  accusation,  1  restore  him  four- 
fold." There  was  an  accurate  distinc- 
tion made  by  this  publican,  now  that 
he  had  been  brought  to  a  correct  state 
o(  mind,  between  restitution  and  alms- 


giving :  he  would  give  alms  of  that  on- 
ly which  had  been  honorably  obtained  ; 
the  rest  he  returned,  with  large  inter- 
est, to  those  from  whom  it  had  been 
unfairly  procured. 

And  though  it  might  be  impossible 
for  the  trader,  in  the  case  just  suppos- 
ed, to  make  restitution  precisely  to  the 
parties  who  have  been  injured  through 
his  successful  speculations,  Ave  do  not 
see  how,  with  his  conscience  accusino- 
him  of  having  done  wrong,  he  can  law- 
fully appropriate  any  share  of  the  pro- 
fits, any  more  than  David  might  have 
lawfully  drunk  of  the  water  procured 
at  his  ill-advised  wish.  It  may  not  be 
possible  to  make  restitution;  for  so  in- 
terwoven are  various  interests,  and  so 
many  are  the  contrivances  for  shifting 
off  losses  from  ourselves,  and  making 
them  fall  upon  others,  that  it  is  often 
hard  to  say  where  the  pressure  really 
rests;  and  it  is  among  the  most  me- 
lancholy of  facts,  that  the  rich  specu- 
lator who  seems  only  to  sweep  up 
the  gains  of  men  of  large  means  like 
himself,  would  often  be  found,  if  you 
could  trace  the  efi'ects  of  his  specula- 
tions through  their  multifold  spread- 
ings,  to  have  compassed  unwittingly 
the  ruin  of  a  hundred  petty  dealers, 
and  wrung  aAvay  the  scanty  pittance 
of  orphans  and  widows.  But  if  there 
may  not  be  restitution,  because  the  ex- 
act objects  injured  are  not  to  be  ascer- 
tained, we  do  not,  nevertheless,  under- 
stand why  there  should  be  appropria- 
I  tion.  The  king  of  Israel  held  the  hel- 
met in  his  hands,  and  looked  upon  the 
!  water  as  it  sparkled  in  that  war-cup. 
!  Was  he  tempted  by  the  freshness  and 
1  clearness  of  the  coveted  draught,  now 
I  that  he  felt  how  wrong  he  had  been  in 
I  breathing  the  wish  1  Oh,  no!  it  looked 
to  him  like  blood  :  it  came  not  from  the 
well  of  Bethlehem,  but  from  the  veins  of 
his  soldiers:  shall  he  drink,  so  to  speak, 
of  the  very  life  of  another  1  he  shrinks 
from  the  thought  and  will  do  nothing 
with  the  water  but  pour  it  out  to  God. 
And  the  trader  stands,  with  the  pro- 
fits of  his  scarcely  honorable  specula- 
tion glittering  before  him.  Shall  he  in- 
vest them  for  his  own  use  1  shall  he 
take  possession  of  them  for  himself 
and  his  family  1  Oh,  they  may  have 
been  coined  out  of  the  losses,  the  dis- 
tresses, the  sufferings  of  numerous 
households;  they  may  as  well  seem  to 


496 


THE    WELL    OF    BETHLEHEM. 


him  dimmed  with  tears,  as  the  water 
seemed  to  David  poHuted  with  blood  ; 
and  we  would  have  him,  if  his  repent- 
ance be  sincere,  and  he  desire  to  prove 
that  sinceritjr,  imitate  the  monarch  in 
refusing  to  appropriate  the  least  por- 
tion, in  pouring  out  the  whole  as  an 
oflering  to  the  Lord  ;  and  in  exclaim- 
ing, when  tempted  to  profit  by  the  sin 
for  which  he  professes  to  be  sorry, 
''  Be  it  far  from  me,  O  Lord,  that  I 
should  do  this." 

Now  we  have  thus  endeavored  to 
give  a  practical  character  to  a  narra- 
tive of  Scripture,  which  it  is  easy  to 
read  without  supposing  it  to  convey 
any  personal  lessons.  Probably  some 
of  you,  on  the  announcement  of  our 
subject,  expected  us  to  treat  it  as  a  ty- 
pical history  :  for  the  mention  of  the 
well  of  Bethlehem,  and  the  longing  for 
its  water,  might  immediately  suggest 
that  Christ  was  born  in  Bethlehem  of 
Judah,  and  that  he  offers  to  each  of  us, 
what,  in  his  own  words,  ''  shall  be  in 
him  a  well  of  water,  springing  up  into 
everlasting  life."  But  it  maybe  doubt- 
ful whether  we  have,  in  this  instance, 
sufficient  authority  for  regarding  the 
registered  occurrences  as  symbolical ; 
at  all  events,  we  should  never  spiritu- 
alize any  narrative  of  facts,  till  the 
facts  have  been  carefully  examined  as 
facts,  and  the  lessons  extracted  which 
their  record  may  have  been  designed 
to  convey. 

But  whilst  we  should  hesitate  to 
found  any  doctrinal  statement  on  the 
narrative  before  us,  considered  as  typi- 
cal, we  know  not  why,  having  strictly 
confined  ourselves  to  the  plainest  and 
most  practical  view  of  the  passage,  we 
may  not  now,  in  conclusion,  survey  the 
occurrences  with  an  eye  that  looks  for 
Christ  and  the  Gospel,  in  the  persons  and 
events  of  earlier  dispensations.  There 
may  be  truth  in  the  supposition,  which 
some  have  advanced,  that  David  had 
only  a  spiritual  meaning  in  the  wish  to 
which  he  gave  utterance.  It  is  possi- 
ble ;  and,  if  so,  the  whole  transaction 
may  have  had  that  significative  cha- 
racter which  belongs  to  much  of  the 
history  of  early  days,  and  which  turn- 
ed occurrences  into  parables,  through 
which  God  instructed  his  faithful  ser- 
vants. David,  partially  informed  as  to 
the  scheme  of  redemption,  and  know- 
in^  that  he  himself  was,  in  many  points, 


set  to  prefigure  the  Messiah,  must  of- 
ten have  longed  for  fuller  disclosures, 
and  striven  to  give  shape  and  con- 
sistency to  dim,  mysterious  images, 
which  passed  to  and  fro  in  his  visions 
as  a  prophet.  He  would  associate 
Bethlehem,  his  own  birth-place,  with 
the  birth-place  of  the  Deliverer  of 
whom  he  was  a  type  ;  and  look  natu- 
rally on  the  trees  and  waters  of  that 
village,  as  obtaining  a  holy,  a  sym- 
bolical character  from  the  illustrious 
Being  who  would  arise  there  in  "  the 
fulness  of  time."  It  might  then  have 
been  a  wish  for  greater  knowledge  of 
redemption,  which  was  uppermost  in 
the  monarch's  mind,  when  he  longed 
for  water  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem. 
How  natural,  that,  harassed  as  he  was 
with  temporal  troubles,  he  should  de- 
sire spiritual  consolations,  and  that  he 
should  pray  for  the  refreshments  which 
were  eventually  to  gush  forth,  as  he 
well  knew,  from  Bethlehem. 

And  may  there  not  have  been  con- 
veyed to  him,  through  what  then  took 
place,  intimations  in  regard  of  th,e  de- 
liverance of  the  world  '?  Certainly,  it 
were  not  difficult  to  give  a  parabolic 
character  to  the  occurrences,  and  to 
imagine  them  ordered  with  a  view  to 
David's  instruction.  If  water  is  to  be 
fetched  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem, 
it  must  be  with  the  discomfiture  of  a 
vast  host  of  foes  :  three  unite  in  the 
purpose,  and  overbear  all  opponents. 
And  if  "  living  water  "  is  to  be  brought 
to  those  who  lie  parched  on  the  moral 
desert  of  the  earth,  indeed  it  can  only 
be  with  the  defeat  of  mightier  than 
the  Philistines:  principality  and  power 
withstand  the  endeavor :  who  shall 
prevail  in  so  great  an  enterprise  1 
Three  must  combine  :  it  is  not  a  work 
for  any  one  person,  even  though  divine  ; 
but  three  shall  imite,  to  strike  down 
the  adversaries,  and  bring  the  draught 
of  life  to  the  perishing:  and  if  the  cup 
come  apparently  in  the  hand  of  but 
one  of  the  three,  the  other  two  shall 
have  been  equally  instrumental  in  pro- 
curing the  blessing. 

Thus  far  there  is  so  much  analogy 
as  would  seem  to  make  it  not  impro- 
bable, that  the  transaction  was  design- 
ed to  be  significative  or  symbolical. 
But  does  the  analogy  end  here  1  We 
would  not  carry  it  too  far ;  and  yet  we 
can  believe  that  a  still  deeper  lesson 


THE    THIRST    OF    CIiniST. 


497 


was  opened  up  to  David.  Did  he  long 
lor  water  from  tlie  well  of  Bethlehem  \ 
did  he  thinlc  that  it  was  only  water, 
something  merely  to  refresh  the  parch- 
ed lip  of  the  pilgrim,  which  was  to  flow 
from  the  Surety  of  a  world  that  iniqui- 
ty had  ruined  1  It  may  have  been  so  : 
it  may  have  been  that  he  was  yet  but 
imperfectly  taught  in  the  mysterious 
truths  of  propitiation  and  redemption. 
What  then  1  he  receives  what  he 
had  longed  for,  what  had  been  drawn 
from  the  well  of  Bethlehem ;  but  it 
seems  to  him  not  water,  it  seems  to 
him  blood,  the  blood  of  one  of  those 
who  had  braved  so  much  for  his  re- 
freshment. JMay  he  not  have  learned 
something  from  this  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  interposition  which  the  Redeemer 
would  make'?  May  he  not  have  ga- 
thered that  the  fountain  to  be  opened, 
for  the  cleansing  and  refreshing  of  the 
world,  would  be  a  fountain  of  blood  1 
"My  blood  is  drink  indeed" — these 
words,  uttered  years  after  by  the  Re- 
deemer himself,  may  have  been  virtu- 
ally syllabled  to  the  Psalmist,  through 
his  being  forced  to  regard  as  blood 
the  water  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem, 
that  well  to  which  he  looked  as  typi- 
fying, in  some  way,  the  person  or  of- 


fice of  Clirist.  And  then  there  is  a 
high  solemnity  in  his  pouring  out  the 
water  unto  the  Lord.  It  was  the  blood 
of  the  costliest  sacrifice,  and  must  all 
be  presented  as  an  expiatory  ofl^ering. 
We  know  not  whether  David  were 
thus  instructed  or  not ;  whether  the 
transaction  were  designed  to  be  signi- 
ficative, nor  whether,  if  it  were,  the 
symbols  were  explained.  But  certain- 
ly the  occurrences  are  such  as  might 
be  woven  into  a  kind  of  parable  of  re- 
demption;  and  it  is  always  pleasing 
to  find  figures  and  shadows  which 
correspond  to  Christian  truths,  even 
where  we  have  no  express  warrant 
for  asserting  the  resemblance.  Bless- 
ed be  God,  we  need  not  long  in  vain 
for  water  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem. 
The  host  of  the  mighty  have  been 
broken  through  ;  a  stronger  than  the 
strong  has  unlocked  for  us  the  flow- 
ings  of  the  river  of  life  :  but  oh,  if  we 
would  take  of  the  stream,  and  live  for 
ever,  we  must  acknowledge  it  as  the 
blood  of  Him  who  went  on  our  behalf 
against  "  principalities  and  powers," 
and  who  finding  the  springs  of  hu- 
man happiness  dried,  filled  them  from 
his  own  veins,  and  they  gushed  with 
immortality. 


SERMON   VIII. 


THE   THIRST   OF   CHRIST. 


Al'Lci-  tliis,,  Jesuj,  knowing  that  all  things  were  nnw  accomplished,  that  the  Scripture  might  be  fullillcd, 

saith,  I  thirst."— John,  19  :  28. 


If  an  impostor  were  to  arise,  desir- 
ous of  passing  himself  off  as  some  per- 
sonage whom  prophets  had  foretold, 
he  would  naturally  take  the  recorded 
predictions,  and  endeavor  to  make  the 
facts  of  his  history  agree  with  their 


announcements.  It  would  evidently  be 
useless  for  him  to  pretend  to  the  be- 
ing the  predicted  individual,  unless  he 
could  point  out  at  least  an  apparent 
correspondence  between  what  he  was, 
and  what  he  did,  and  the  character  and 
63 


498 


THE    THIRST   OF    CHRIST. 


conduct  which  prophecy  had  delinea- 
ted. There  would,  of  course,  be  an 
immediate  reference  to  the  ancient 
writing's,  an  immediate  comparison  of 
their  foretellings  Avith  Avhat  was  now 
given  as  their  accomplishment;  and  if 
the  two  did  not  agree,  the  pretender 
would  be  instantly  scouted,  and  no  one 
could  for  a  moment  be  deceived  by  his 
pretensions. 

Hence    the   great   endeavor   of  the 
supposed  impostor  would  certainly  be 
to  extract  from  prophecy  a  full  account 
of  the  actions  and  fortunes  of  the  indi- 
vidual for  whom  he  wished  to  be  taken, 
and   then,    as   nearly    as   possible,    to 
make  those  actions  and   fortunes  his 
own.  Suppose,  for  example,  that  an  im- 
postor had  desired  to  pass  himself  off 
as  the  Messiah,  the  deliverer  and  ruler, 
so  long  and  anxiously  expected  by  the 
Jews.  He  would  necessarily  have  been 
aware    that    the   national    expectation 
rested   on  certain  ancient  prophecies, 
and  that  all  which  could  be  known  be- 
forehand of  the  Christ  was  contained  in 
certain  books  received  as  inspired.    It 
is  not,  therefore,  to  be  imagined  that 
he  would  fail  to  be  a  student  of  pro- 
phecy, or  to  take  its  descriptions  as 
sketclies  in  which  he  must  exhibit  de- 
lineations of  himself.     But,  supposing 
him  to  have  done  this,  could  he  have 
made  much  way  in  establishing  a  cor- 
respondence between  himself  and  the 
subject  of  prophecy'?    It  is   easy,  un- 
doubtedly,   to    find,   or   fancy,  predic- 
tions of  which  a  man  might  contrive 
an   apparent   fulfilment    in    respect    of 
himself.    They  might  be  predictions  of 
certain  things  that  should  be  done,  and 
these,  or  very  similar,  the  man  might 
be  able  to  perform.   They  might  be  pre- 
dictions of  certain  things  that  should 
be  suffered  ;  and  these,  or  very  similar, 
the  man  might  endure.    But  could  the 
individual,   whom   we    have    supposed 
setting  up  for  the  Messiah,  have  man- 
aged to  effect  a  conformity  between 
his  actions   and   sufferings,  and  those 
predicted  of  our  Lordl    It  is  allowed 
on  all  hands,  that  the  history  of  Christ, 
as  related  in  the  Gospels,  corresponds, 
with  great  accuracy,  to  what  prophets 
had  foretold  of  the  Messiah.  But  is  the 
correspondence   such  as  an  ingenious 
impostor,  having  the  prophecies  in  his 
hands,  and  studying  to  produce  their 
apparent  accomplishment,  could  have 


possibly  effected  1  This  is  a  question 
well  worth  the  being  asked,  though  the 
answer  is  so  easy  that  you  may  all  give 
it  for  yourselves. 

There  are  a  few  respects  in  which 
an  impostor  might  have  contrived  the 
fulfilment  of  prophecy.  But  most  of 
the  predictions  referring  to  Christ  are 
of  things  over  which  the  individual 
could  have  no  control :  predictions,  for 
example,  as  to  the  place  and  circum- 
stances of  his  birth,  as  to  the  treatment 
which  he  should  meet  with,  and  the 
death  which  he  should  die.  They  are 
predictions  which  were  not  to  be  fulfill- 
ed by  the  actions  of  the  party  himself, 
but  by  the  actions  of  others ;  and  we 
need  not  say  how  little  power  the  indi- 
vidual could  have  of  making  others  sa 
act  as  seemingly  to  accomplish  pro- 
phecy, however  bent  he  might  be  on 
the  apparently  fulfilling  it  himself. 
And  it  ought  to  be  further  observed, 
that  if  an  impostor  had  endeavored,  in 
the  time  of  our  Lord,  to  pass  himself  off 
as  the  predicted  Messiah,  and,  accord- 
ingly, had  attempted  to  effect  a  cor- 
respondence between  his  own  history 
and  prophecy,  he  would  never  have 
made  himself  "a  man  of  sorrows,  and 
acquainted  with  grief."  He  would  have 
taken  the  national  expectation  as  the 
just  interpretation  of  prophecy,  and 
never  have  thought  of  making  good 
his  pretensions  by  affecting  a  resem- 
blance between  himself  and  delinea- 
tions which  those  around  him  either 
denied  or  disliked.  His  pattern  would 
unquestionably  have  been  the  Messiah, 
not  as  described  by  seers  of  old,  but 
rather  as  described  in  the  popular  ex- 
planations of  their  visions :  and  we 
need  not  tell  you  that  such  a  Messiah 
was  not  presented  in  the  person  of  our 
Lord  and  Master  Christ. 

Thus  there  is  nothing  easier  than  the 
showing  that  the  correspondence  which 
may  be  traced  between  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth, and  a  mysterious  personage  of 
whom  ancient  prophecy  makes  frequent 
mention,  is  such  as  could  not  have  been 
produced  by  any  impostor,  however  art- 
ful or  powerful.  Even  had  prophecy 
been  far  clearer  and  more  explicit  than 
it  was;  had  it  not  required,  in  many  par- 
ticulars which  now  seem  quite  plain,  the 
being  accomplished  in  order  to  the  be- 
ing thorouglily  understood;  we  may 
fearlessly  declare    that  no  pretender, 


THE    THIRST    OF    CHRIST. 


499 


taking  it  as  his  guide,  and  laboring  to 
make  his  life  its  illustration,  could  have 
succeeded  in  effecting,  even  in  appear- 
ance, the  thousandth  part  of  those  nu- 
merous, striking,  and  frequently  mi- 
nute fulfilments  which  are  to  be  traced 
in  the  actions  and  endurances  of  Him 
whom  we  honor  as  the  King  of  Israel, 
the  Anointed  of  God. 

But  why  have  we  gone   into  these 
remarks   on  a  point  which,    perhaps, 
may    never   have   occurred  to   any  of 
our  hearers?    for,  probably,    none    of 
you  ever  entertained  a  suspicion  that 
Christ  might  have  contrived  those  ful- 
filments of  prophecy  on  which  so  much 
stress    is   laid.     Our  reason   is   easily  I 
given.     We  have  in  our  text  the  re- 
cord of  a  thing  done  by  Christ,  with  j 
the  view,  or  for  the  purpose,  of  accom- 
plishing an    ancient  prediction.     The 
course  pursued  is  precisely  that  which,  j 
according  to  our  foregoing  statements,  | 
an  impostor  might  have  been  expected  ] 
to  take.     The  party  claiming  to  be  the  i 
Messiah  remembers  a  certain  prophecy  i 
which  has  not  yet  been  fulfilled,  and  •, 
forthwith  sets  himself  to  procure  its  i 
fulfilment.     It   is,   you    see,  expressly  t 
stated  that    Jesus  said,  "I  thirst,"  in 
order  that  he  might  bring  round  the 
accomplishment  of  a  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture.    And  had  this  been  the  solitary  \ 
instance  in  which  prophecy  found  itself  \ 
fulfilled  in  the  history  of  Jesus,  or  had  i 
other  fulfilments  been  of  the  same  kind,  j 
such,  that  is,  as  might  possibly  have 
been  contrived   or  planned,  we  admit 
that  the  argument  from  prophecy  would 
have  been  of  little  worth  in  establish- 
ing the  Messiahship  of  our  Lord.    But 
we    have    already    sufficiently    shown 
you  that  no  such  explanation  can  be 
given  of  the  correspondences  between 
history  and  prophecy  in  the  case  of  the 
Redeemer  ;  forasmuch  as  many  of  them 
were  such  as  it  was  not  in  the  power 
of   any  pretender   to  have    produced, 
and    many    more    would    have     been 
avoided,  rather  than  attempted,  by  the 
shrewdest  deceiver.     And  this  having 
been  determined,  we  may  allow  that 
Christ  occasionally  acted  with  the  ex- 
press  design  of   fulfilling  predictions 
which  had  reference  to  himself;  that 
he    shaped  his  conduct,    and   ordered 
his  sayings,  with  a  view  to  agreement 
with  what  prophets  had  foretold.     We 
may  admit  this,  without  any  misgiv- 


I  ings  that  we  perhaps  weaken  the  ar- 
gument from  prophecy,   seeing   that, 
I  whilst  what  we  admit  is  of  very  rare 
j  occurrence,  it  cannot  bring  suspicion 
upon  evidence  derived  from  the  gene- 
ral character  of  predictions,  and  their 
I  accomplishment. 

j  And  it  is  worth  j^our  observing  that, 
I  even  in  the  case  before  us,  though  un- 
questionably Christ  complained  of  thirst 
for  the  purpose  of  fulfilling  a  prophecy, 
it  was  not  in  man's  power  to  ensure 
the  fulfilment.  His  mere  complaining 
of  the  thirst  accomplished  no  predic- 
tion. The  prediction,  as  we  shall  pre- 
sently see,  required  that  when  the  Mes- 
siah was  thirsty  there  should  be  given 
him  vinegar  to  drink.  Had  our  Lord 
asked  for  vinegar,  and  had  vinegar  been 
brought  him,  there  might  have  been 
some  ground  for  saying  that  he  actually 
made  the  accomplishment  of  a  prophe- 
cy. But  when  he  on4y  complained  of 
thirst,  and  w4ien,  in  answer  to  his  com- 
plaint, not  merely  was  a  sponge  put  to 
his  mouth,  but  a  sponge  full  oX  vine- 
gar, you  may  see  that  there  were  cir- 
cumstances, and  contingencies,  which 
could  hardly  have  been  provided  for, 
except  by  divine  foresight ;  so  that, 
although  indeed  Christ  made  his  com- 
plaint, "  that  the  Scripture  might  be 
fulfilled,"  there  is  little  probability  that 
the  Scripture  would  have  been  fulfilled 
had  he  not  been  in  truth  the  Son  of 
the  living  God.  You  may  say  that 
Christ  saw  "  the  vessel  full  of  vine- 
gar," and  that  he  might  fairly  have 
calculated  that  a  complaint  of  thirst 
would  be  met  by  the  offer  of  vinegar. 
But,  at  least,  he  could  not  have  ar- 
ranged that  the  vinegar  should  be  the 
nearest  drink  at  hand,  even  if  it  were  at 
hand  ;  for  "  one  of  them  ran,  and  took 
a  sponge,  and  filled  it  with  vinegar ;" 
and  thus,  put  the  case  how  you  will, 
the  accomplishment  of  the  prophecy 
hardly  came  within  human  contrivance. 
Or  you  may  say,  that,  as  vinegar  was 
commonly  used  by  the  Roman  soldiers, 
the  almost  certainty  was  that  vinegar 
would  be  offered  :  but  it  appears  that 
only  one  person  Avas  willing  to  attend 
to  Christ's  complaint,  "  the  rest  said. 
Let  be,  let  us  see  whether  Elias  will 
come  to  save  him."  How  far,  then,  w-as 
the  accomplishment  from  having  been 
necessarily  in  the  power  of  a  deceiver  ! 
We    may,    however,   consider    that 


500 


THE    THIRST    OF    CHRIST. 


enough  has  now  heen  said  on  an  ob- 
jection which  might  be  raised  against 
a  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  because  there 
was  an  evident  acting  with  a  view  to 
that  fulfilment.  We  would  pass  to  more 
interesting  statements,  which  may  be 
grounded  on  the  very  simple,  but  af- 
fecting incident,  which  is  recorded  in 
our  text.  We  hardly  know  whether,  in 
the  whole  narrative  of  the  Mediator's 
sufferings,  there  is  a  verse  so  full  of 
material  for  profitable  meditation.  We 
shall  not  attempt  to  parcel  out  this  ma- 
terial under  any  set  divisions,  but  ra- 
ther leave  ourselves  free  to  follow  such 
trains  of  thought  as  may  successively 
present  themselves.  We  shall  only  as- 
sign it,  as  the  general  object  of  the  re- 
mainder of  our  discourse,  to  examine 
the  truths  and  inferences  derivable  from 
the  facts,  that,  just  before  he  expired, 
Christ  exclaimed,  "  I  thirst,"  and  that 
he  uttered  the  exclamation  in  order 
"that  the  Scripture  might  be  fulfilled." 
Now  we  think  it  well  deserving  your 
notice,  that  it  should  have  been  for  the 
sake  of  accomplishing  prophecy,  and 
not  for  that  of  assuaging  his  pains,  that 
our  Lord,  in  his  last  moments,  com- 
plained of  thirst.  It  seems  implied  in 
the  concise  statement  of  the  Evange- 
list, that,  had  he  not  remembered  a 
prediction  which  was  yet  unfulfilled, 
Christ  would  have  been  silent,  though 
he  might  have  used  of  himself  the 
touching  words  of  the  Psalmist,  ''  My 
strength  is  dried  up  like  a  potsherd, 
and  my  tongue  cleaveth  to  my  jaws." 
Intolerable  must  have  been  his  thirst 
as  he  hung  between  heaven  and  earth ; 
yet  he  would  never,  as  it  seems,  have 
mentioned  that  thirst,  nor  asked  a  sin- 
gle drop  of  moisture,  had  he  not  thought 
it  necessary  to  the  complete  proof  of 
his  mission.  You  know  that  this  is  the 
solitary  exclamation  which  he  uttered 
expressive  of  bodily  suffering.  He  is 
not  reported  to  have  said  any  thing 
when  the  crown  of  thorns  was  fasten- 
ed round  his  forehead.  There  is  no  re- 
corded cry,  or  groan,  when  the  nails 
were  driven  into  his  hands  and  feet,  or 
when  the  cross  was  set  upright,  though 
the  pain  must  have  been  acute,  almost 
beyond  thought.  He  endured  all  this, 
not  only  without  a  murmur,  but  with- 
out even  a  manifestation,  or  indication, 
of  his  agony  ;  s6  that  never  was  there 
the  martyr  who  bore  with  greater  for- 


titude the  torments  of  a  lins:erinsf  and 
excruciating  death. 

His  other  sufferings,  however,  scarce- 
ly admitted  of  alleviation  ;  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  submit,  and  wait 
patiently  for  death.  Though  even  in  re- 
gard of  these  he  seems  to  have  declin- 
ed the  ordinary  modes  of  mitigation, 
for  he  refused  the  ''  wine  mingled  with 
myrrh,"  which  was  tendered  him  just 
before  his  crucifixion,  and  which,  by 
partially  stupifying  the  victim,  might 
have  diminished  the  torture.  He  had  a 
great  work  to  perform  on  the  cross, 
and  he  would  not  deaden  his  faculties 
ere  he  ascended  that  terrible  altar. 

But  thirst  might  have  been  relieved 
— thirst,  which  must  have  been  one  of 
the  most  distressing  consequences  of 
crucifixion — and  it  would  have  been 
natural  that  he  should  have  asked  of 
the  bystanders  a  few  drops  of  water. 
And  he  did  mention  his  thirst,  but  not 
for  the  sake  of  moistening  the  parched 
tongue  and  throat — only  to  afford  oc- 
casion for  another  proof  of  his  being 
the  Messiah.  It  is  as  though  he  had  no 
thought  to  give  to  his  sufferings,  but, 
even  in  the  moment  of  terrible  extre- 
mity, were  intent  upon  nothing  but  the 
great  work  which  he  had  undertaken 
for  men.  We  may  even  venture  to 
think  that  not  only  was  it  not  for  the 
sake  of  mitigating  his  sufferings  that 
he  complained  of  thirst ;  but  that  it  was 
an  increase  of  those  sufferings  to  have 
to  make  the  complaint.  The  multitude, 
which  stood  round,  were  disposed  to 
treat  him  with  derision ;  they  were 
watching  him,  maliciously  and  scorn- 
fully, that  they  might  triumph  in  his 
anguish.  You  may  judge  how  eager 
they  were  to  show  contempt  and  ha- 
tred of  the  sufferer,  from  what  we  have 
already  referred  to,  as  having  occur- 
red on  his  utterance  of  the  piteous  cry, 
"My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken mel"  The  insulting  shout  im- 
mediately arose,  "  This  man  calleth  for 
Elias" — so  ready  were  they  to  make 
him  the  subject  of  ridicule,  and  so  on 
the  watch  for  proof  that  they  had  suc- 
ceeded in  driving  the  iron  into  his  soul. 

But  hitherto  he  had,  as  it  were,  al- 
most baffled  and  disappointed  them  :  he 
had  betrayed  little  or  no  emotion  ;  but, 
by  his  apparent  superiority  to  bodily 
torture,  had  denied  them  all  occasion 
for  fierce  exultation.    And  it  quite  con- 


THE    THIRST    OF    CHRIST. 


501 


sists  with  what  we  know  of  the  inno- 
cent but  sensitive  sufferer,  that  we 
should  suppose  it  a  new  trial  to  him 
to  have  to  confess  what  he  feU,  and 
thus  to  expose  hiniself  to  the  revilings 
of  his  inveterate  enemies.  There  had 
been  hitherto  such  a  majesty  in  his  an- 
guish, such  an  awful  and  dignified  de- 
fiance of  torture,  as  must  almost  have 
made  the  executioner  crouch  before 
the  victim.  And  now  must  he,  as  it 
were,  yield  1  Must  he,  by  an  acknow- 
ledgment of  suffering,  gratify  a  savage 
crowd,  and  pierce  the  few  fond  and 
faithful  hearts  which  were  to  be  found 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross'?  His  mother 
was  within  hearing  j  at  her  side  was 
the  disciple  whom  he  loved  ;  ihey  were 
already  wounded  to  the  quick — shall 
he  lacerate  them  yet  more  by  speaking 
of  his  wretchedness  1 

But  the  Scripture  must  be  fulfilled. 
There  was  yet  a  particular  in  which 
prophecy  had  to  be  accomplished  ;  and 
every  other  feeling  gave  way  to  that 
of  the  necessity  of  completing  the 
proof  of  his  being  the  Messiah.  It  was 
the  last,  and  one  of  the  most  touching, 
of  the  evidences  of  his  love.  It  was 
only  his  love  for  us  which  made  him 
speak  of  his  thirst.  He  would  not  leave 
the  smallest  room  for  doubt  that  he  Avas 
indeed  the  promised  Redeemer:  he 
loved  us  too  well  not  to  provide  against 
every  possible  suspicion ;  and  there- 
fore, though  he  would  never  have  com- 
plained for  the  sake  of  obtaining  any 
assuagement  of  the  pain  ;  though  he 
would  have  desired  to  avoid  complain- 
ing, that  he  might  not  provoke  fresh 
insult  from  the  multitude  ;  though  he 
would  have  kept  silence,  if  only  that 
he  might  not  add  to  the  grief  of  the 
few  who  tenderly  loved  him  ;  yet,  ra- 
ther than  allow  the  least  particle  to  be 
wanting  in  the  evidence  whereby  we 
might  know  him  as  the  Christ,  he  gave 
all  but  his  last  words  to  an  expression 
of  distress. 

Oh,  we  know  of  nothing  which  more 
shows  the  ardency  of  the  Savior's  love 
for  the  church,  than  this  confession  of 
thirst  just  before  he  expired.  We  look 
on  him  with  admiration,  as  he  stands 
unmoved  before  Pilate,  and  returns  no 
answer  to  the  vehement  accusations 
poured  forth  by  his  countrymen.  ''He 
is  brought  as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter ; 
and  as  a  sheep  before  her  shearers  is 


dumb,  so  he  openeth  not  his  mouth." 
We  behold  him  scourged,  and  buffeted, 
and  crowned  with  thorns,  and  nailed  to 
the  accursed  tree — and  we  are  amazed, 
yea,  confounded,  by  his  patience  ;  for 
not  the  least  cry  is  wrung  from  him  in 
his  anguish.  Is  it  that  he  does  not  feel 
acutely!  Is  it  that  his  humanity  is  not 
sensitive  to  pain?  Ah,  not  so.  He  is, 
all  the  while,  tortured  by  an  excrucia- 
ting thirst,  which  is  at  once  the  evi- 
dence and  the  accompaniment  of  rack- 
ing pangs.  But  he  has  to  set  an  exam- 
ple of  endurance  ;  he  is  moreover  oc- 
cupied with  thoughts  and  hopes  of  the 
world's  deliverance  ;  and,  therefore,  by 
a  mighty  effort,  he  keeps  down  the 
struggling  sorrow,  and  restrains  every 
token  of  agony. 

This  then  is  in  love  to  us;  his  si- 
lence is  in  love  to  us.  But  it  might 
have  accorded  best  with  the  feelings 
of  so  lofty  a  Being,  thus  to  baffle  his 
adversaries,  by  refusing  to  let  them  see 
him  writhe  beneath  their  merciless  in- 
flictions— does  he  love  us  so  well  that 
he  will  even  yield  to  those  adversaries, 
and  confess  himself  vanquished,  if  it 
might  be  for  our  good?  Yea,  even  this 
he  will  do  ;  for  remembering,  as  he 
hangs  upon  the  cross,  a  prediction 
which  has  yet  to  be  fulfilled,  he  forgets 
all  in  his  desire  to  provide  for  our  con- 
viction, and  breaks  into  the  cry,  "  I 
thirst,"  in  order  only  that  the  Scrip- 
ture might  be  accomplished. 

But  we  have  stated  that  the  predic- 
tion, which  our  Lord  had  in  mind,  was 
not  one  of  great  prominence,  not  one 
perhaps  whose  fulfilment  would  appear 
to  us  of  much  moment.  We  may  sup- 
pose it  to  have  been  to  words  in  the 
sixty-ninth  Psalm  that  Christ  mentally 
referred  :  "  They  gave  me  also  gall  for 
my  meat,  and  in  my  thirst  thejr  gave 
me  vinegar  to  drink."  There  is  no 
other  express  prophecy  whose  accom- 
plishment he  can  be  thought  to  have 
contemplated  ;  and  we  may  venture  to 
say,  that,  if  this  had  not  been  literally 
fulfilled  in  respect  of  our  Lord,  we 
should  hardly  have  urged  it  as  an  ob- 
jection against  his  pretensions.  Accus- 
tomed to  regard  the  Psalms  as  spoken 
primarily  in  the  person  of  David,  we 
do  not  expect,  even  when  they  are  un- 
doubtedly prophetic,  to  find  every  line 
verified  in  the  history  of  that  Messiah 
of  whom  David  was  the  type.    We  ex- 


502 


THE    THIRST    OF    CHRIST. 


perience  no  surprise,  if,  in  a  Psalm,  the 
quotations  from  which  in  the  New 
Testament  prove  that  it  speaks  of  the 
Clirist,  we  meet  with  verses  which  we 
cannot  distinctly  show  to  be  applicable 
to  our  Lord.  Suppose  then  that  Christ 
had  died  without  complaining  of  thirst, 
and  without  receiving  the  vinegar — we 
should  perhaps  scarcely  have  said  that 
there  was  a  prediction  which  had  never 
been  accomplished.  We  should  either 
have  supposed  that  the  verse  in  ques- 
tion belonged  in  some  way  to  David,  or 
we  should  have  given  it,  as  we  easily 
might,  a  figurative  sense,  and  then  have 
sought  its  fulfilment  in  the  indignities 
and  cruelties  of  which  Christ  was  the 
subject. 

And  this  shows  you  what  a  very  mi- 
nute particular  it  was  in  the  predictions 
of  himself,  which  caused  our  Lord  to 
break  silence,  and  utter  an  expression 
of  suffering.  It  was  a  particular  which 
we  should  probably  have  overlooked, 
or  of  which,  at  least,  we  should  never 
have  reckoned  the  literal  accomplish- 
ment indispensable  to  the  completeness 
of  the  prophetic  evidence  for  Christ. 
Yet,  so  anxious,  so  determined  was  the 
Redeemer  to  leave  us  no  possible  ex- 
cuse for  rejecting  him  as  the  anointed 
of  God,  that,  not  satisfied  Avith  having 
fulfilled  all  but  this  inconsiderable  par- 
ticular, and  though  to  fulfil  it  must  cost 
him,  as  we  have  shown  you,  a  very 
painful  effort,  he  would  not  breathe  out 
his  soul  till  he  had  tasted  the  vinegar. 
This  was  indeed  a  manifestation  of  his 
love :  but  there  are  other  truths,  be- 
sides that  of  the  Savior's  solicitude  for 
our  good,  to  be  drawn  from  his  deter- 
mination that  the  least  prophecy  should 
not  go  unaccomplished. 

You  will  observe  that  it  is  affirmed 
in  the  text,  that  Jesus  knew  that  all 
things  were  now  accomplished  ;  and 
that,  knowing  this,  he  proceeded  to 
speak  of  his  thirst,  with  a  view  to  the 
fulfilment  of  yet  one  more  prediction. 
Of  course  there  were  many  things 
which  had  not  been  accomplished,  ma- 
ny whose  accomplishment  was  still  ne- 
cessarily future,  having  respect  to  the 
burial,  resurrection,  ascension,  and  tri- 
umph of  Christ.  But  Jesus  knew  that 
every  thing  was  accomplished,  which 
had  to  be  accomplished  before  his  ac- 
tual death,  except  the  receiving  the 
vinegar.  He  knew  that  there  remained 


nothing  but  that  the  words,  "  In  my 
thirst  they  gave  me  vinegar  to  drink," 
should  be  fulfilled  in  his  person,  and  he 
might  resign  his  soul  into  the  hands  of 
the  Father,  convinced  that  every  pro- 
phecy which  bore  reference  to  the  life 
or  death  of  the  Messiah,  had  received 
its  completion,  and  would  be  a  witness 
for  him  to  all  after  ages.  You  must  ad- 
mit that  the  text  represents  Jesus  as 
knowing  that  there  was  but  one  word 
of  prophecy  which  had  not  yet  been 
accomplished,  and  that,  too,  a  prophe- 
cjr  of  so  inconsiderable  a  particular, 
that  we  should  scarcely  have  detected 
the  want,  had  our  Lord  died  without 
bringing  it  to  pass. 

This  is  a  most  surprising  testimony 
to  the  completion  of  prophecy  :  it  is  a 
bold  challenge  to  the  infidel  who  would 
dispute  the  claims  of  Him  who  hung 
upon  the  cross.  By  taking  an  appa- 
rently unimportant  prediction,  and 
dealing  with  it  as  the  only  prediction, 
Avhether  in  type  or  in  word,  which  had 
not  yet  been  fulfilled,  Jesus  may  be 
said  to  have  staked  his  Messiahship  on 
every  single  prophecy — "  Find  one,  a 
solitary  one,  which  I  have  not  accom- 
plished, and  I  resign  all  pretension  to 
the  being  God's  Son."  And  when  you 
come  to  think  of  the  multitude  of  pre- 
dictions which  have  respect  to  the  life 
and  death  of  the  Messiah,  and  of  the 
almost  countless  mystical  rites  which, 
equally  with  the  visions  of  seers,  sha- 
dowed the  "  One  Mediator  between 
God  and  man,"  you  can  hardly  fail  to 
be  amazed  at  the  assertion,  that  Jesus 
knew  that  "all  things  were  now  ac- 
complished." Yet,  believing  him  to 
have  been  divine,  we  know  him  to  have 
been  omniscient ;  and,  therefore,  we 
are  emboldened  so  to  state  the  argu- 
ment from  prophecy,  as  to  be  ready  to 
give  up  all,  if  you  can  find  a  single 
flaw.  The  writings  of  "  holy  men  of 
old  "  teem  with  notices  of  that  Being 
whom  God  had  promised  to  send  in 
"  the  fulness  of  time."  Some  of  these 
notices  relate  to  important,  others  to 
apparently  trivial  particulars.  The 
line  of  which  he  was  to  spring,  the 
power  by  which  he  should  be  con- 
ceived, the  place  in  which  he  should 
be  born,  the  dangers  which  should 
threaten  his  childhood,  the  miracles 
which  he  should  work  in  his  manhood, 
the  treatment  which  he  should  receive. 


THE    THIRST    UF    CHKIST. 


503 


the  malice  of  his  enemies,  the  deser- 
tion of  his  friends,  the  price  at  which 
he  should  be  sold,  the  dividing  of  his 
garments,  the  death  which  he  should 
die — all  these  are  stated  with  the  pre- 
cision and  minuteness  of  history;  as 
though  prophets  had  been  biographers, 
and,  not  content  with  general  outlines, 
had  been  instructed  to  furnish  records 
of  daily  actions  and  occurrences.  And 
over  and  above  predictions  so  compre- 
hensive yet  so  abounding  in  detail,  there 
are  figurative  rites  which  all  had  respect 
to  the  same  illustrious  person  ;  a  thou- 
sand types  foreshow  his  office,  a  thou- 
sand emblems  represent  his  deeds  and 
his  sufferings. 

And  we  are  not  satisfied  with  saying, 
that,  in  every  striking  and  prominent 
particular,  a  correspondence  may  be 
traced  between  the  Christ  whose  his- 
tory we  have  in  the  Gospels,  and  the 
Christ  whom  we  find  in  the  strains  of 
prophets,  and  the  institutions  of  the 
law.  We  do  not  ask  you  to  admit  that 
it  must  have  been  of  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth that  the  Old  Testament  spake, 
and  that  the  temple  services  were  full, 
because  there  are  certain  main  fea- 
tures of  that  person  in  the  description 
of  inspired  writers,  and  the  shadows  of 
ceremonial  observances.  Our  position 
is,  that  there  is  not  a  single  line  in 
prophecy,  which  can  be  shown  to  refer 
to  the  life  and  death  of  the  Messiah, 
which  was  not  accomplished  in  Jesus; 
not  a  single  type  in  the  law  to  which 
he  was  not  an  antitype.  You  are  at 
liberty  to  take  any  prediction,  you  are 
at  liberty  to  take  any  shadow  ;  and  we 
are  ready  to  rest  the  cause  of  Christi- 
anity on  that  prediction's  having  been 
fulfilled  in  Jesus,  or  on  his  having  been 
the  substance  of  that  shadow.  Nei- 
ther is  this  the  challenge  of  a  rash  and 
boastful  theology.  This  is  the  crite- 
rion which  the  Founder  of  our  religion 
himself  maybe  said  to  have  appointed, 
and  that,  too,  at  the  very  moment  when 
he  was  finishing  our  redemption.  And 
we  know  not  how' to  convey  to  you 
our  idea  of  the  wonderfulness  of  the 
fact,  that  Christ  could  feel,  after  he 
had  hung  for  hours  upon  the  cross, 
that,  if  a  few  drops  of  vinegar  were 
given  him  by  a  bystander,  every  jot 
and  tittle  would  be  accomplished  of  all 
that  had  been  foretold  of  the  Messiah, 
up  to  the  time  of  his  death,  from  the 


first  prophecy  to  Adam  to  the  last 
Avords  of  Malachi.  But  it  is  imques- 
tionable,  from  our  text,  that  such  was 
his  feeling  :  upon  this  feeling  we  may 
safely  ground  our  challenge  ;  rather, 
we  may  consider  it  as  the  challenge  of 
the  Redeemer  himself  to  the  unbeliev- 
ing of  every  generation. 

It  seems  to  us  as  though  the  Savior, 
whilst  suspended  between  earth  and 
heaven,  had  summoned  before  him 
every  prophet  and  seer  whom  God  had 
raised  up  in  successive  ages  of  the 
world,  and  had  required  each,  as  he 
passed  in  review,  to  give  in  his  claims 
on  the  predicted  Messiah.  No  marvel 
that  he  almost  forgot  his  intense  suf- 
ferings whilst  engaged  in  so  sublime 
and  momentous  an  inquiry,  whilst  com- 
muning with  patriarchs  and  priests,  and 
the  long  train  of  heralds  who  had  seen 
his  day  afar  off',  and  kept  expectation  , 
alive  amongst  men.  And  Abraham  re- 
counts to  him  all  the  particulars  of 
the  sacrifice  of  his  son  :  Jacob  reminds 
him  of  the  departure  of  the  sceptre 
from  Judah :  Moses  speaks  of  the  re- 
semblance which  must  be  borne  to 
himself:  Aaron,  in  his  sacerdotal  vest- 
ments, crowds  the  scene  with  mys- 
tic figures.  Then  arise  the  later  pro- 
phets. They  speak  of  his  virgin  mo- 
ther ;  of  his  divine  parentage,  and  yet 
of  his  descent  from  David.  Isaiah  pro- 
duces his  numerous,  and  almost  his- 
toric, delineations  :  Daniel  reckons  up 
his  seventy  weeks:  Micah  fixes  the 
nativity  to  Bethlehem  Ephratah  :  Zech- 
ariah  weighs  the  thirty  pieces  of  sil- 
ver, and  introduces  her  king  to  Jeru- 
salem, ''riding  upon  an  ass,  and  a  colt, 
the  foal  of  an  ass  :"  Malachi  revives 
Elias,  and  sends  him  as  a  messenger  to 
"prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord."  And 
David,  as  though  his  harp  had  been 
fresh  strung,  pours  forth  again  his 
touching  melodies,  repeating  the  pit- 
eous complaints  which,  mingled  at 
times  with  notes  of  triumph,  he  had 
been  instructed  to  utter  in  his  typi- 
cal character. 

But  one  after  another  of  these  an- 
cient worthies  passes  from  before  the 
Mediator,  leaving  him  assured  that 
there  is  not  the  line  in  his  prophetic 
scroll  which  has  not  been  accom- 
plished. And  that  Mediator  is  just 
about  to  commend  his  soul  into  the 
hands  of  the  Father,  satisfied  of  there 


504< 


THE    THIRST    OF    CUEIST. 


being  no  defect  in  the  evidence  from 
propliecy,  when  one  saying  of  the  roy- 
al Psalmist  strikes  him  as  not  yet  lite- 
rally verified,  and  he  defers  death  a 
moment  longer,  that  this  too,  though 
seemingly  of  little  moment,  may  hold 
good  of  himself.  Yes,  champions  of 
infidelity,  disprove  it  if  you  can,  and 
if  you  cannot,  explain,  if  you  can,  on 
your  own  principles,  how  the  almost 
countless  lines  of  prophecy  came  to 
meet  in  one  person,  and  that  one  Jesus 
whom  you  refuse  to  adore.  Yes,  fol- 
lowers of  the  Savior,  search  deeply 
into  the  fact,  and  after  searching,  fail, 
if  you  can,  to  triumph  in  the  having 
as  your  leader  one  who  fulfilled  to 
the  letter,  in  the  short  space  of  a  life, 
whatsoever  voices  and  visions  from  on 
high  had  assigned,  through  many  cen- 
turies, to  the  seed  of  the  woman.  True 
it  is,  gloriously,  incontestably  true, 
that  Jesus  had  only,  just  before  he 
died,  to  exclaim,  "  I  thirst,"  and  to  re- 
ceive, in  answer  to  his  complaint,  a 
few  drops  of  vinegar  on  a  sponge,  and 
he  could  then  breathe  out  his  spirit, 
amid  the  confessions  of  patriarchs,  and 
prophets,  and  priests,  and  kings,  each 
testifying,  with  a  voice  of  wonder  and 
of  worship,  that  "  all  things,"  without 
a  solitary  exception,  that  ''  all  things 
were  now  accomplished." 

But  our  text  throws  light  on  another 
doctrine,  or  fact  which,  if  often  pre- 
sented to  your  attention,  is  of  so  great 
importance  as  to  deserve  the  being  fre- 
quently stated.  We  are  now  about  to  re- 
fer to  the  power  which  Christ  had  over 
his  life,  a  power  which  caused  his  death 
to  differ  altogether  from  that  of  an  or- 
dinary man.  We  wish  you  to  observe 
the  surprising  composedness  which  is 
indicated  by  the  words  on  which  we 
now  discourse.  They  seem  to  repre- 
sent Christ,  according  to  our  foregoing 
statement,  as  actually  examining  all 
the  records  of  prophecy,  that  he  might 
determine  whether  there  yet  remained 
any  thing  to  be  done  before  the  soul 
could  be  dismissed  from  the  body. 
They  give  us  the  idea  of  a  being  who, 
in  full  possession  of  every  faculty,  is 
engaged  in  investigating  ancient  docu- 
ments, rather  than  of  one  who,  exhaust- 
ed by  protracted  sufterings,  is  on  the 
point  of  dissolution.  How  wonderful 
that  the  recollection  should  be  so  clear! 
that  the  almost  expiring  man  should  be 


able,  amid  the  throes  of  death,  to  fix 
on  a  single,  inconsiderable  prediction, 
to  decide  that  there  was  no  other,  out 
of  an  immense  assemblage,  which  had 
yet  to  be  accomplished,  and  to  take 
measures  for  its  being  accomplished 
before  he  breathed  his  last!  What 
collectedness,  what  superiority  to  suf- 
fering, yea,  what  command  over  death  ! 

For  it  is  evident — and  this  is  the 
most  remarkable  thing — that  Jesus  de- 
termined that  he  would  live  until  the 
prediction  were  fulfilled,  and  that  he 
would  die  so  soon  as  it  were.  The 
Evangelist  tells  us,  ''  When  Jesus, 
therefore,  had  received  the  vinegar, 
he  said,  It  is  finished;  and  he  bowed 
his  head  and  gave  up  the  ghost." 
He  waited  till  the  vinegar  had  been 
given  him,  till,  that  is,  the  only  unac- 
complished prophecy  had  been  ac- 
complished, and  then  immediately,  as 
though  it  were  quite  optional  with, 
him  at  what  moment  he  would  die, 
"  gave  up  the  ghost."  This  is  ama- 
zing ;  this  is  unlike  death,  though  it 
was  actually  the  separation  of  body 
and  soul ;  for  where  is  the  necessity 
of  nature  'i  where  the  ebbing  away  of 
strength  1  where  the  gradual  wearing 
out  of  the  principle  of  life  1  Christ 
evidently  died  just  when  he  chose  to 
die,  and  only  because  he  chose  to  die  : 
he  had  the  spirit  in  his  own  keeping, 
and  could  retain  or  dismiss  it  as  he 
pleased.  You  find  that  Pilate  and  oth- 
ers wondered  at  finding  him  so  soon 
dead  ;  he  died  sooner  than  a  crucified 
person  could  have  been  expected  to 
die  :  and  herein  too  he  had  reference 
to  prophecy,  for  had  he  lingered  the 
ordinary  or  natural  period,  his  legs 
would  have  been  broken,  as  were  those 
of  the  malefactors  executed  with  him, 
whereas  there  was  a  typical  prediction, 
in  the  paschal  lamb,  that  not  a  bone  of 
him  should  be  broken. 

So  that,  with  Christ,  to  die  was 
strictly  a  voluntary  act — ''  I  lay  down 
my  life  :  no  man  taketh  it  from  me, 
but  I  lay  it  dowrt  of  myself;  I  have 
power  to  lay  it  down,  and  I  have  pow- 
er to  take  it  again" — it  was  an  act  of 
which  he  could  fix  the  precise  moment, 
which  he  could  hasten  or  delay  at  his 
own  pleasure,  which  no  pain,  no  dis- 
ease, no  decay  could  effect,  but  which 
was  wrought,  altogether  and  at  once, 
by  his  will.     Death  was  not  with  him 


THE   THUIST    OF    CHRIST, 


505 


what  it  will  be  with  one  of  us.  We  shall 
die  through  necessity,  with  no  power 
over  the  touj,  whether  of  retaining  or 
dismissing  J  exhausted  by  sickness,  or 
bvokeu  up  by  accident,  unable  to  make 
the  pulse  beat  one  more  or  one  less 
than  shall  be  ordained  by  a  Being  who 
is  immeasurably  beyond  our  control. 
But  what  resemblance  is  there  between 
this  and  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ  on 
the  cross"?  Though  dying  what  would 
be  ordinarily  a  lingering  death, —  dy- 
ing, to  use  a  common  expression,  by 
inches,  and  therefore  certain  to  be,  at 
the  least,  exhausted  and  spent — we 
ilnd  him,  in  the  few  moments  prece- 
ding dissolution,  with  every  poAver  in 
full  play,  the  mind  all  in  action  for  the 
accomplishing  his  mission,  and  keep- 
ing, as  it  were,  the  vital  principle  under 
its  orders,  ready  to  be  suspended  so 
soon  as  prophecies  were  fulhlled. 

Call  ye  this  death  1  Yes,  men  and 
brethren,  this  was  really  death:  he 
who  hung  upon  the  cross  died  as  ac- 
tually as  any  one  of  us  will  die;  for 
death  is  the  separation  of  the  soul  from 
the  body;  and  the  soul  of  Christ  went 
into  the  separate  state,  whilst  his  body 
was  consigned  to  the  grav^e.  But  call 
ye  this  the  death  of  a  mere  man  1  can  ye 
account  for  the  peculiarities  of  Christ's 
death,  except  bj''  supposing  him  the 
Lord  of  life  and  glory'?  Martyrs,  ye 
died  bravely,  and  beautifully  ;  but  ye 
died  not  thus.  Saints  of  God,  ye  went 
wondrously  through  the  last  struggle  ; 
but  ye  went  not  thus.  Oh,  it  is  a  noble 
thing,  that  we  can  go  to  the  scene  of 
crucifixion,  and  there,  in  spite  of  all 
the  ignominy  and  suffering,  discover  in 
the  dying  man  the  incarnate  God.  The 
Jew  and  the  Greek  may  taunt  us  with 
the  shame  of  the  cross ;  we  glory  in 
that  cross  :  at  no  moment  of  his  course 
has  the  Deity  shone  more  brightly 
through  the  humanity  of  the  Media- 
tor: not  when  his  voice  was  heard  in 
the  grave,  and  the  buried  returned  to 
the  living,  did  he  more  conspicuotisly 
show  divine  pou'er  over  death,  than  in 
the  releasing,  when  he  would,  his  own 
soul  from  the  body.  Come  with  us  and 
gaze  on  this  mysterious  person  dying, 
"  the  just  for  the  unjust."  Seems  he  to 
you  to  be  dying  as  an  ordinary  maul 
Can  ye  find  no  difference  between  him 
and  those  crucified,  the  one  on  his  right 
hand,  and  the  other  on  his  left!  Nay, 


in  them  you  have  all  the  evidence  that 
life  is  being  drained  out  drop,  by  drop, 
and  that  they  are  sinking  beneath  a 
process  of  painful  exhaustion.  But  in 
him  there  are  no  tokens  of  the  being 
overmastered,  enfeebled,  or  worn  dov.n. 
In  that  mangled  and  bleeding  body, 
there  seems,  to  all  appearance,  as  much 
animation  as  though  there  had  not  been 
going  on,  for  hours,  an  assault  on  the 
citadel  of  life.  Let  us  watch  his  last 
moments,  let  us  observe  his  last  act. 
But  those  moments  are  over,  whilst  we 
thought  them  yet  distant ;  he  has  sud- 
denly expired,  though  an  instant  ago 
there  was  no  sign  of  death.  How  is 
thisl  hovv',  but  that  he  has  indeed 
proved  the  truth  of  his  assertion,  "  No 
man  taketh  my  life  from  me,  but  I  lay 
it  down  of  myself!"  an  assertion  which 
could  be  true  of  no  one  w^ho  had  not 
an  actual  lordship  over  life,  who  was 
not,  in  fact,  his  own  source  of  life,  who 
was  not  in  fact  the  Author  of  life.  He 
has  retained  his  spirit  whilst  he  chose  ; 
he  has  dismissed  that  spirit  when  he 
would;  and  thus,  though  in  the  form 
of  a  creature,  he  has  exercised  the  pre- 
rogative of  the  Creator, 

The  cross,  then,  with  all  its  shame, 
the  act  of  dissolution,  with  all  its  fear- 
fulness,  bears  as  strong  attestation  to 
the  essential  Deity  of  Christ,  as  the 
most  amazing  miracle  performed,  or  the 
fullest  prophecy  accomplished.  And 
we  bow  before  a  Being,  as  more  than 
human,  as  nothing  less  than  divine, 
who  died  by  his  own  act,  though  nail- 
ed to  a  cross ;  by  an  eflort  of  his  own 
will,  though  beneath  the  hands  of  fierce 
executioners  :  we  hail  him,  even  in  the 
midst  of  ignominy,  as  "the  image  of 
the  invisible  God,"  seeing  that  he  could 
forbid  the  departure  of  the  soul  whilst 
there  remained  a  prediction  unfulfilled, 
and  command  it  into  paradise  the  mo- 
ment that  he  saw  that  all  things  were 
accomplished. 

Now  they  have  not,  we  think,  been 
either    uninteresting    or    unimportant 
truths  which    we    have    thus    derived 
from  the   fact  that  Christ  complained 
of  thirst  on  the  cross,  on  purpose  "  that 
the  Scripture  might  be  fulfilled."    But 
'  we  have  yet  to  fix  your  thoughts  more 
!  particularly  on  Christ  as  an  example, 
i  exhorting  you  to  observe  how  engross- 
ed he  was*  with  the  work  of  redemp- 
tion, how  intent,  up   to  the  last  mo- 
64. 


506 


THE    THIRST    OF    CHRIST. 


ment  of  life,  on  performing  the  will  of 
the  Father  who  sent  him.  You  must 
not  think  that,  because  Jesus  had  such 
power  over  his  own  life  as  we  have 
just  now  described — a  power  which 
made  him  inaccessible  to  death,  except 
so  far  as  he  chose  to  give  death  per- 
mission— he  did  not  suffer  acutely  as 
he  hung  upon  the  cross.  It  is  true  that 
crucifixion  never  could  have  killed  him, 
and  that  he  did  not  die  of  the  torture 
and  exhaustion  thereby  produced  ;  but 
nevertheless  it  is,  on  this  very  account, 
true,  that  his  sufferings  must  have  vast- 
ly exceeded  those  of  the  malefactors 
crucified  with  him.  So  far  as  the  na- 
tural effects  of  crucifixion  were  con- 
cerned, he  was  not  necessarily  nearer 
dying  when  he  died  than  when  first 
fastened  to  the  tree.  But  what  does 
this  prove,  except  that,  retaining  from 
first  to  last  all  his  sensibilities,  he  must, 
from  first  to  last,  have  endured  the 
same  exquisite  torments'?  whereas,  had 
he  been  dying,  just  as  the  thieves  on 
either  side  of  him  were,  he  would  gra- 
dually have  become  faint  through  loss 
of  blood  and  excess  of  pain,  and  thus 
have  been  less  and  less  sensitive  to  the 
pangs  of  dissolution. 

Thus,  in  keeping  the  vital  principle 
in  undiminished  vigor  up  to  the  mo- 
ment of  the  departure  of  the  soul,  Christ 
did  but  keep  undiminished  the  incon- 
ceivable anguish  of  being  nailed  to  the 
cross  :  crucifixion,  as  it  were,  was  mo- 
mentarily repeated,  and  the  agony  of 
each  instant  was  the  agony  of  the  first. 
Yet  even  to  this  did  the  Mediator  will- 
ingly submit :  for  had  he  allowed  him- 
self the  relief  of  exhaustion,  his  facul- 
ties would  have  been  numbed,  and  he 
had  full  need  of  these,  that  he  might 
finish  in  death  what  he  had  been  en- 
"•aored  on  in  life.  What  an  example  did 
he  thus  set  us,  that  we  decline  every 
indulgence  which  might  possibly  inca- 
pacitate us  for  doing  God's  work,  and 
submit  cheerfully  to  every  inconveni- 
ence which  may  attend  its  perform- 
ance !  Oh,  never  were  the  Redeemer's 
love,  and  zeal,  and  patience  so  conspi- 
cuous as  throughout  those  dark  hours 
Avhen  he  hung  upon  the  tree.  He  might 
have  died  at  once  ;  and  we  dare  not  [ 
say  that  even  then  our  redemption 
would  not  have  been  complete.  There 
would  have  been  equally  the  shedding  [ 
of  precious  blood,  and  equally  perhaps 


the  expiatory  offering,  had  he  sent  his 
soul  into  the  separate  state  the  instant 
that  his  body  had  been  nailed  to  the 
cross.  But  he  would  tarry  in  tribula- 
tion, that  he  might  survey  his  vast  un- 
dertaking, gather  up  the  fragments, 
anticipate  every  possible  objection,  and 
bequeath  the  material  of  conviction  to 
all  who  were  not  obstinately  bent  on 
infidelity. 

What  hearts  must  ours  be,  that  we 
can  look  so  coldly  on  the  suffererer — 
suffering  '^  for  us  men  and  for  our  sal- 
vation!"  His  last  thoughts,  as  his  ear- 
liest had  been,  were  on  our  deliverance, 
on  our  welfare.  Even  the  words  which 
he  uttered,  "  that  the  Scripture  might 
be  fulfilled,"  were  as  expressive  of  his 
mental  as  of  his  bodily  feeling.  Indeed 
he  did  thirst :  "  the  zeal  of  thine  house 
hath  consumed  me  :"  he  was  parched 
with  longing  for  the  glory  of  God  and 
the  safety  of  man.  "  1  thirst :"  I  thirst 
to  see  of  the  travail  of  my  soul :  I  thirst 
for  the  effects  of  my  anguish,  the  dis- 
comfiture of  Satan,  the  vindication  of 
my  Father,  the  opening  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  to  all  believers. 

Shall  our  last  end  be,  in  any  mea- 
sure, like  this?  Would  that  it  might ! 
Would  that,  when  we  come  to  die,  we 
may  thirst  with  the  thirst  of  the  Re- 
deemer's soul!  "  Blessed  are  they  that 
hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness, 
for  they  shall  be  filled."  "My  soul 
thirsteth  for  thee,"  is  an  exclamation 
of  the  Psalmist,  when  declaring  the  ar- 
dency of  his  longings  after  God.  And 
our  Savior  endured  thirst,  that  our 
thirst  might  be  quenched.  His  tongue 
clave  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth — "  my 
heart,"  saith  he,  "  in  the  midst  of  my 
body,  is  even  like  melting  wax" — that 
we,  inhabitants  naturally  of  "  a  dry  and 
barren  land,"  might  have  access  to  the 
river  of  life,  which,  clear  as  crystal, 
pours  itself  through  the  paradise  of 
God. 

Who  does  not  thirst  for  these  wa- 
ters'? Ah,  brethren,  there  is  nothing 
required  but  that  every  one  of  us 
should  be  able,  with  perfect  truth,  to 
declare,  "I  thirst,"  and  the  Scripture 
shall  be  fulfilled  in  that  man's  drawing 
water  out  of  the  wells  of  salvation. 
For  the  invitations  of  the  Bible  pre- 
suppose nothing  but  a  sense  of  want, 
and  a  wish  for  relief.  "  Ho  I  every  one 
that  thirsteth" — there  is  the  summon?, 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD  S  PRAYER. 


506 


there  the  description.  Oh,  that  we  may 
now  thirst  with  a  thirst  for  pardon,  a 
thirst  for  reconciliation,  a  thirst  for 
holiness.  Then,  when  we  come  to  die, 
we  shall  thirst  for  the  joys  of  immor- 
tality— for  the  pleasures  which  are  at 
God's  right  hand:  we  shall  thirst,  even 
as  Christ  did,  that  the  Scripture  may 


be  fulfilled :  and  the  Scripture  shall 
be  fulfilled  :  for,  bowing  the  head  and 
giving  up  the  ghost,  we  shall  be  in 
his  presence  with  whom  is  "the  foun- 
tain of  life  ;"  and  every  promise  that 
has  cheered  us  here,  shall  be  turned 
into  performance  to  delight  us  for 
ever. 


SERMON    IX 


THE  SECOND  DELIVERY  OF  THE  LORD'S  PRAYER. 


And  it  came  to  pas?,  that,  as  he  was  praying  in  a  certain  place,  when  he  ceased,  one  of  his  disciples 
said  unto  him,  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray,  as  John  also  taught  his  disciples."— Luke,  11  :  1. 


There  were  two  occasions  on  which 
our  blessed  Savior  delivered  that  form 
of  prayer  which  is  known  by  his  name. 
The  first  was  in  the  sermon  on  the 
Mount,  about  the  time  of  Pentecost ; 
the  second  was  in  answer  to  the  re- 
quest made  him  in  the  text,  about  the 
Feast  of  Tabernacles,  many  months  af- 
terwards. You  are  not  to  confound  the 
two  occasions,  as  though  the  Evange- 
lists St,  Matthew  and  St.  Luke  had  but 
given  different  accounts  of  one  and  the 
same  delivery.  The  occasions  were 
wholly  dissimilar,  separated  by  a  con- 
siderable interval  of  time  :  on  the  one, 
Christ  gave  the  prayer  of  himself,  with 
nothing  to  lead  to  it  but  his  own  wish 
to  instruct;  whereas,  on  the  other,  he 
Avas  distinctly  asked  by  one  of  his  dis- 
ciples, who  probably  did  but  speak  in 
the  name  of  the  rest. 

We  cannot  suppose  that  these  disci- 
ples had  forgotten  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
Whether  or  not  all  now  present  had 
been  present  at  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  we  may  justly  conclude  that 
they  were  all  well  acquainted  with  the 
comprehensive  form  which  Christ  had 
delivered  for  the  use  of  the  Church. 
Why,  then,  did  they  ask  for  another 


form  of  prayer '?  and  what  are  we  to 
learn  from  Christ's  meeting  the  wish 
by  simply  repeating  that  before  given  1 
These  are  not  mere  curious  questioris; 
you  will  presently  see  that  they  in- 
volve points  of  great  interest  and  im- 
portance. Without  advancing  any  con- 
jectures, let  us  look  at  the  Lord's 
Prayer  as  given  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  and  as  here  again  given  in  an- 
swer to  the  request  of  the  disciples : 
the  comparison  may  furnish  some  clue 
which  will  guide  us  in  our  search. 

Now  we  have  spoken  of  the  prayer 
delivered  on  the  two  occasions,  as 
though  it  had  been  altogether  the 
same  :  this  however  is  not  strictly  the 
case ;  there  are  certain  variations  in 
the  versions  which  should  not  be  over- 
looked. Some  of  these,  indeed,  are 
very  slight,  requiring  only  to  be  men- 
tioned, not  examined  ;  such  as  that,  in 
the  one,  the  word  "debts"  is  used,  in 
the  other,  "sins;"  St.  Luke  says,  Give 
us  day  by  day ;"  St.  Matthew,  "  Give 
us  this  day,  our  daily  bread."  Such 
differences  are  evidently  but  differ- 
ences in  the  mode  of  expression. 

There  is,  however,  one  remarkable 
variation.    On  the  second  occasion  of 


508 


THE    SECOND    DELIVERY    OF    THE    LOKD'^S    PHAYER. 


delivering  his  prayer,  our  Lord  altoge- 
ther omitted  the  doxology  with  which 
he  had  concluded  it  on  the  first.  He 
quite  left  out,  that  is,  the  words,  "  For 
thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power, 
and  the  glory,  for  ever.  Amen."  Now 
there  can  be  little  doubt,  that,  in  con- 
structing his  form  of  prayer,  Christ 
had  respect  to  the  religious  usages  of 
the  Jews.  It  is  said  that  a  serious 
student  of  the  Gospel,  and  one  at  the 
same  time  versed  in  Jewish  antiqui- 
ties, may  trace,  at  every  step,  a  design- 
ed conformity  to  the  rules  and  prac- 
tices of  devotion  which  were  at  that 
time  observed.  Without  attempting 
generally  to  prove  this,  it  will  be  worth 
our  while  to  consider  what  was  the 
Jewish  custom  as  to  the  conclusion  of 
their  prayers,  whether  public  or  pri- 
vate. 

We  find,*  that  in  the  solemn  services 
of  the  Temple,  when  the  priests  had 
concluded  a  prayer,  the  people  were 
wont  to  make  this  response  ;  ''Blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  glory  of  Tiis  king- 
dom for  ever  and  ever."  Public  prayer 
— prayer,  that  is,  in  the  Temple,  fin- 
ished with  a  doxology  very  similar  to 
that  which  concludes  the  Lord's  Prayer. 
But  this  doxology  was  never  used  in 
more  private  prayer,  prayer  in  a  syna- 
gogue, or  in  a  house.  Observe,  then  : 
our  Lord  gives  his  prayer  on  the  first 
occasion  with  the  doxology,  on  the 
second,  without  it :  what  may  we  infer 
from  this  1  Surely,  that  he  wished  his 
disciples  to  understand  that  the  prayer 
was  designed  both  for  public  use  and 
for  private. 

In  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  the 
prayer  had  concluded  with  the  doxol- 
ogy ;  and  the  disciples,  we  may  be- 
lieve, had  thence  gathered  that  the 
prayer  was  intended  to  be  used  in  the 
Temple.  But  they  still  wanted  a  form 
for  private  devotion,  and  on  this  ac- 
count preferred  the  request  which  is 
contained  in  our  text.  Our  Lord  an- 
swers the  request  by  giving  them  the 
same  form,  but  with  the  omission  of 
the  doxology  ;  thus  teaching  that  his 
prayer  was  adapted  to  the  closet  as 
well  as  to  the  church.  If  regard  be  had 
to  Jewish  usages,  nothing  can  seem 
less  objectionable  than  this  explanation 
of  the  insertion  of  the  doxology  in  one 

Lightfoot,  Talmudicul  Excrcitations  upon  St. 
Matthew. 


place  and  its  omission  in  another.  The 
prayer  was  delivered  twice,  to  prove 
that  it  was  to  serve  for  public  use  and 
for  private.  Christ  showed  that  it  was 
to  be  a  public  prayer  by  giving  it  with 
a  doxology ;  a  private,  by  giving  it 
without ;  for  a  doxology  was  that  which 
was  then  used  in  the  Temple,  but  not 
in  a  house. 

And  this  further  explains  why  our 
Lord  did  not  add  "Amen,"  in  conclu- 
ding his  prayer  on  the  second  occa- 
sion. It  was  usual  amongst  the  Jews 
not  to  add  the  Amen  to  prayers  which 
were  only  petitionary,  but  to  reserve 
it  for  expressions  of  thanksgiving  and 
benediction ;  whereas,  the  doxology 
being  omitted,  the  Lord's  prayer,  you 
observe,  became  purely  petitionary. 
There  is  evidence  of  this  in  the  Book 
of  Psalms  :  the  book  is  full  of  prayers, 
but  the  prayers  do  not  end  with  Amen. 
If  the  Psalmist  use  the  Amen,  it  is 
after  such  an  exclamation  as  this  : 
"  Blessed  be  the  Lord  for  evermore." 
You  may  trace  just  the  same  custom 
in  the  writings  of  the  Apostles.  Thus 
St.  Paul  asks  the  speaker  with  tongues, 
"  How  shall  he  that  occupieth  the 
room  of  the  unlearned  say  Amen,  at 
thy  giving  of  thanks  1"  and  it  is  gene- 
rally after  some  ascription  of  praise, 
or  expression  of  benediction,  that  he 
adds  an  Amen  :  "  The  Creator,  who  is 
blessed  for  ever.  Amen."  "  Now  the 
God  of  peace  be  with  you  all.  Amen." 

Now  it  is  a  fact  of  very  great  inter- 
est, which  thus  appears  fairly  esta- 
blished— namely,  that  the  second  de- 
livery of  the  Lord's  prayer,  as  compa- 
red with  the  first,  goes  to  the  proving 
that  the  petitions  in  this  prayer  are 
equally  adapted  to  private  and  to  pub- 
lic devotion;  that  we  cannot  find  a 
more  suitable  or  comprehensive  form, 
whether  for  the  gathering  of  "  the 
great  congregation,"  for  domestic  wor- 
ship, or  for  the  retirement  of  our  clo- 
set. Our  Lord  did  not  indeed  mean  to 
tie  us  down  to  the  use  of  this  prayer, 
as  though  we  were  never  to  use  any 
other,  or  never  to  expand  into  larger 
supplication.  But  he  may  certainly  be 
thought  to  have  given  this  prayer  as 
a  perpetual,  universal  model ;  and  to 
have  asserted  its  containing  an  ex- 
pression for  every  want  and  every  de- 
sire which  may  lawfully  be  made  the 
subject  of  petition  unto  God.    There 


THE    SECOND    DELIVERY    OF    THE    LORD's    PRAYER. 


509 


ought  to  be  no  debate  as  to  the  suita- 
bleness of  this  prayer  for  all  places 
and  seasons,  after  you  have  remarked 
the  peculiarities  of  its  double  delivery. 
Do  you  doubt  whether  it  be  a  form 
well  adapted  to  the  public  assembly  1 
then  observe  that  its  petitions  were 
l!rst  uttered  by  our  Lord,  with  such  a 
doxology  appended  as  was  never  then 
used  but  at  the  solemn  gatherings  in 
the  temple  of  God.  When  you  have 
hereby  convinced  yourselves  of  its 
suitableness  for  public  worship,  will 
you  hesitate  as  to  its  fitness  for  more 
private  occasions'?  for  the  devotional 
meetings  of  the  family,  or  for  your 
own  secret  communion  with  God? 
Then  you  resemble  the  disciples,  who, 
having  heard  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
yet  imagined  a  need  for  a  different 
form  of  prayer  in  their  religious  re- 
tirements. But  surely  it  should  teach 
you,  that,  at  one  time  as  well  as  at 
another,  the  Lord's  prayer  should  find 
its  way  from  the  heart  to  the  lip,  to 
know  that  our  blessed  Savior — omit- 
ting only  the  doxology,  and  thus  con- 
secrating to  the  use  of  the  closet  what 
he  had  before  consecrated  to  the  use 
of  the  church — gave  precisely  the  same 
form,  in  answer  to  the  request  of  these 
disciples,  '^Lord,  teach  us  to  pray,  as 
John  also  taught  his  disciples." 

But  hitherto  we  have  made  no  way 
in  commenting  on  the  text,  except  that 
we  may  have  explained  the  request  of 
the  disciples — a  request  which  has,  at 
first,  a  strange  look,  as  though  Christ 
had  not  already  delivered  a  form  of 
prayer,  or  as  though  what  he  had  de- 
livered were  already  forgotten.  We 
remove  this  strange  look,  by  observing 
our  Lord's  answer,  and  inferring  from 
it  that  what  the  disciples  now  solici- 
ted was  a  form  of  private  prayer  :  w^hat 
they  had  previously  received  passed 
with  them  as  designed  for  public  occa- 
sions; and"the  second  delivery  of  the 
same  form,  but  with  certain  alterations, 
both  shows  us  the  want  of  the  disci- 
ples, and  teaches  us  how  such  want 
might  best  be  supplied. 

We  will  now,  however,  endeavor  to 
bring  before  you  certain  other  and  very 
interesting  truths,  which  are  involved, 
more  or  less  prominently,  in  the  state- 
ments of  the  text.  And,  first,  as  to  the 
employment  of  Christ  when  the  disci- 
ples approach  and  prefer  their  request. 


There  is  nothing  to  show  distinctly 
whether  our  blessed  Redeemer  had 
been  engaged  in  private  prayer,  or  had 
been  praying  with  his  followers.  But 
we  learn,  from  many  statements  of  the 
Evangelists,  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
retiring  for  purposes  of  private  devo- 
tion:  ''He  withdrew  into  the  wilder- 
ness and  prayed  ;"  he  "  went  out  into 
a  mountain  to  pray,  and  continued  all 
night  in  prayer  ;"  he  was  "  alone  pray- 
ing." And  perhaps  it  agrees  best  with 
the  expressions  in  our  text,  that  we 
should  suppose  our  Lord  to  have  been 
engaged  in  solitary  prayer:  "As  he 
was  praying  in  a  certain  place."  The 
disciples  had  probably  been  absent  from 
him,  as  when  they  left  him  sitting  on 
Jacob's  well,  whilst  they  went  into  the 
city  to  buy  meat.  On  their  return  they 
behold  him  at  prayer:  they  draw  re- 
verently back;  they  Avould  not  intrude 
on  him  at  so  sacred  a  moment.  But 
the  thought  occurs  to  them — "  Oh, 
what  a  time  for  obtaining  a  new  lesson 
in  prayer  ;  let  us  seize  on  it — let  us  ask 
him  to  instruct  us  whilst,  like  Moses 
coming  down  from  the  mount,  his  face 
yet  shines  with  celestial  communings." 
They  watch  the  opportunity — you  see 
how  it  is  stated  :  "  When  he  ceased,  one 
of  his  disciples  said  unto  him."  They 
appear  to  have  stood  at  a  distance,  that 
they  might  not  interrupt  the  solemn 
exercise  ;  but,  so  soon  as  they  saw  the 
exercise  concluded,  they  pressed  ea- 
gerly forward  to  share  in  its  benefit. 

But  whether  or  not  this  were  then 
the  relative  position  of  Christ  and  his 
disciples — whether  he  was  alone  pray- 
ing, or  whether  they  were  praying  with 
him — Ave  know,  as  we  have  already  said, 
that  our  Lord  was  wont  to  engage  in 
solitary  prayer;  and  there  is  no  atti- 
tude, in  which  this  Divine  person  is 
presented  to  us,  wherein  he  is  more 
wonderful,  more  deserving  to  be  con- 
sidered with  all  that  is  deepest,  and 
most  reverent,  in  attention.  You  ex- 
pect to  find  Christ  working  miracles — 
for  you  know  him  to  be  God  in  human 
form ;  and  you  feel  that  he  must  give 
such  credentials  of  his  mission  as  shall 
suffice,  if  not  to  remove  all  unbelief, 
yet  to  leave  it  inexcusable.  You  even 
expect  to  find  him  enduring  anguish — 
for  you  know  him  to  have  assumed  hu- 
man nature,  that  he  might  be  capable 
of  sufTering;  and  you  thoroughly  as- 


510 


THE    SECOND    DELIVERY    OF    THE    LORD  S    PRAYER. 


sent  to  the  fundamental  truth,  that 
"without  shedding  of  blood  is  no  re- 
mission." But  you  could  hardly  have 
expected  to  have  found  him  spending 
whole  nights  in  prayer.  What  has  that 
pure,  that  spotless  Being,  in  whom 
"  dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  God- 
head bodily,"  to  do  with  importunate 
supplication,  as  though  he  were  in  dan- 
ger of  ofiending  his  heavenly  Father, 
or  had  to  wring  from  a  reluctant  hand 
supplies  of  that  grace,  of  which  him- 
self is,  after  all,  the  everlasting  foun- 
tain 1 

There    is   a    mysteriousness    about 
Christ  praying,  which  should  almost 
■warn  us  back,  as  it  seems  to  have  warn- 
ed the  disciples.    For  we  are  not  to 
suppose  that  our  Redeemer's  prayers 
were  all  similar  to  that  which  is  record- 
ed in  the  seventeenth  chapter  of  St. 
John's  Gospel,  and  in  which  there  is 
the   calmness  of  an  Intercessor  who 
knows  that  he   shall  prevail,   or  who  j 
feels  that  he  but  asks  what  himself  has  j 
right  to  bestow.    St.  Paul,  in  his  Epis- 
tle to  the  Hebrews,  speaks  of  him  in  | 
language  which  obliges  us  to  regard 
him   as    having   Avrestled    in    prayer, 
wrestled  even  as  one  of  us  may  wres- 
tle, with  much  strain  and  anguish  of  j 
mind.  The  Apostle  there  says  of  Christ : 
"  Who,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  when 
he  had  offered  up  prayers  and  suppli- 
cations, with  strong  crying  and  tears, 
unto  him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from 
death,  and  was  heard  in  that  he  feared." 
There  may  be  here  a  special  reference 
to   our  Lord's  agony  in  the   garden, 
when,  as  you  remember,  he  besought 
earnestly  of  the  Father,  that,  if  it  were 
possible,  the  cup  might  pass  from  him. 
But  we  have  no  right  to  confine  the 
Apostle's  statement  to  this  particular 
scene  :  we  may  rather  conclude,  that, 
when  our  blessed  Savior  spent  whole 
nio"hts  in  prayer,  his  supplications  were 
mingled  with   tears,  and  that  it  was 
with  the  deep  emotions  of  one,  who  had 
blessings  to  procure  through  importu- 
nity, that  he  addressed  himself  to  his 
Father  in  heaven. 

You  may  wonder  at  this — you  may 
ask  how  this  could  be  ;  and  we  can 
only  answer,  that,  though  the  Redeem- 
er was  both  God  and  man — two  natures 
having  been  indissolubly  joined  in  his 
one  Divine  person — yet,  as  man,  he 
seems  to  have  had  the  same  battles  to 


fight,  the  same  assistance  to  depend 
upon,  as  though  he  had  not  also  been 
God,  but,  like  one  of  ourselves,  had 
had  the  devil  for  his  enemy,  and  only 
the  Holy  Ghost  for  his  comforter. 
There  is  frequently  a  mistake  upon 
this,  and  one  which  practically  takes 
away  from  Christ's  example  all  it's 
power  and  persuasiveness.  Why  was 
Christ  able  to  resist  the  devil  1  Why 
was  Christ  able  to  keep  himself  "  holy, 
harmless,  undefiled,  and  separate  from 
sinners'?"  Because,  many  are  ready 
to  reply,  he  was  God  as  well  as  man. 
But  surely  this  must  be  an  errone- 
ous reply.  It  supposes  that  when  he 
was  exposed  to  temptation,  the  Divine 
nature  in  his  person  came  to  the  as- 
sistance of  the  human,  upheld  it,  and 
made  it  triumphant.  And  how  then 
could  Christ  be  an  example  to  us,  who, 
being  merely  men,  cannot  fly  from  one 
nature  in  ourselves  to  another,  from 
the  weaker  to  the  stronger,  when  at- 
tacked by  certain  enemies,  or  exposed 
to  certain  dangers'? 

The  scriptural  representation  is  just 
the  opposite  to  this.     It  sets  before  us 
Christ  as  having  been  as  truly  a  man, 
as  truly  left  as  a  man  to  a  man's  duties, 
j  a  man's  trials,  a  man's  helps,  as  though, 
'  at  the  same  time,  all  the  fulness  of  God- 
i  head  had  not  dwelt  in  him  bodily.     It 
!  was  not  to  the  divine  nature  in  his  own 
1  person  that   he  could  have   recourse 
i  when  hard  pressed  by  temptation  :  he 
had  to  lean,  like  one  of  ourselves,  on 
the  aids  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  aids  sought 
by  prayer,  and  appropriated  by  faith. 
The  divine  nature  in  his  person    ap- 
pears to  have  had  nothing  to  do  with 
holding  up  the  human,  but  only  with 
the  conferring  infinite  worth  on  its  suf- 
ferings and   actions:  it   did    not  give 
the  patience  to  endure,  though  it  gave 
the  preciousness  to  the  endurance ;  it 
did  not  give  the  strength  to  obey,  but 
the  untold  merit  to  the  obedience. 

And,  upon  this  representation,  we 
can  somewhat  enter,  though  still  but 
remotely,  into  the  prayers  of  our  bless- 
ed Redeemer.  He  was  a  man,  with  a 
man's  infirmities,  though  not  with  a 
man's  sinful  propensities  ;  living,  as  a 
man,  the  life  of  faith  ;  fighting,  as  a 
man,  the  battle  with  principalities  and 
powers  ;  and  he  had  before  him  a  task 
of  immeasurable  intenseness,  which  he 
could  not  contemplate,  as  a  man,  with- 


THE    SECOND   DELIVERY    OF    THE    LORd's    I'KAYEK. 


511 


out  a  sense  of  awfulness,  we  had  al- 
most said  of  dread.  In  this  his  state 
of  fearful  warfare  and  tremendous  un- 
dertaking, he  had  to  have  recourse  to 
those  assistances  which  are  promised 
to  ourselves,  which  we  have  to  seek 
for  by  prayer,  and  which  even  he,  not- 
withstanding his  oneness  with  the  other  ! 
persons  in  the  Trinity,  had  to  procure, 
to  preserve,  and  to  employ,  through 
the  same  processes  as  the  meanest 
of  his  disciples.  Hence,  it  may  be, 
his  midnight  watchings  j  hence  his 
"  strong  crying  and  tears;"  hence  his 
prolonged  and  reiterated  supplications. 

And  however  mysterious,  or  actu- 
ally incomprehensible,  it  may  be,  that 
a  Being,  as  truly  God  as  he  was  man, 
should,  as  man,  have  been  as  much 
thrown  on  a  man's  resources  as  though 
he  had  not  also  been  God,  yet  what  a 
comfort  is  it  that  Christ  was  thus  iden- 
tified with  ourselves,  that  he  went 
through  our  trials,  met  our  dangers, 
and  experienced  our  difficulties  !  We 
could  have  had  but  little  confidence  in 
committing  our  prayers  to  a  high  priest 
who  had  never  had  to  pray  himself. 
But  oh,  how  it  should  encourage  us  to 
wrestle  in  prayer,  to  be  fervent  and 
importunate  in  prayer,  that  it  is  just 
what  our  blessed  Lord  did  before 
us  ;  and  that  having,  as  our  Mediator, 
known  continually  the  agony  of  sup- 
plication, he  must,  as  our  Advocate, 
be  all  the  more  disposed,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Psalmist,  to  put  our  tears 
into  his  bottle,  and  to  gain  audience 
for  our  cries.  It  might  strike  me  with 
greater  amazement  to  see  Christ  raise 
the  dead.  It  might  fill  me  with  deeper 
awe,  to  behold  Christ  upon  the  cross. 
But  it  ministers  most  to  my  comfort, 
to  look  at  Christ  upon  his  knees.  Then 
1  most  know  him  as  my  brother  in  all 
but  my  sinfulness,  myself  in  all  but  the 
corruption  which  would  have  disabled 
him  for  being  my  deliverer. 

Oh,  let  it  be  with  us  as  with  the  dis- 
ciples;  let  us  gaze  on  the  Redeemer 
as  he  is  "praying  in  a  certain  place;" 
and  we  shall  be  more  than  ever  en- 
couraged to  the  asking  from  him  what- 
soever we  can  need.  Then  we  have 
him  in  the  attitude  which  should  give 
confidence,  let  our  want  be  what  it 
may  ;  especially  if  it  be  a  freer  breath- 
ing of  the  soul — and  this  breathing 
is  prayer — which  we  desire  to  obtain. 


Christ  will  sometimes  seem  so  great, 
so  far  removed  from  ourselves,  that 
the  timid  want  courage  to  address  him. 
Even  suffering  hardly  appears  to  bring 
him  down  to  our  level;  if  he  weep,  it 
is  over  our  sins  that  his  tears  fall,  and 
not  over  his  own  ;  if  he  is  stricken,  it 
is  that  by  his  stripes  Ave  may  be  heal- 
ed ;  if  he  die,  it  is  that  we  may  live. 
But  when  he  prays,  he  prays  for  him- 
self. Not  but  that  he  also  prays  for 
others,  and  even  we,  too,  are  required 
to  do  this.  But  he  prays  for  himself, 
though  he  does  not  suffer  for  himself. 
He  has  wants  of  his  own  for  which 
he  asks  a  supply,  dangers  against 
which  he  seeks  protection,  difficulties 
in  which  he  entreats  guidance.  Oh, 
who  will  now  be  afraid  of  going  to 
him  to  be  taught  ]  Who  will  not  feel, 
as  he  sees  Jesus  "  praying  in  a  certain 
place,"  that  now  is  the  precious  mo- 
ment for  casting  ourselves  before  him, 
and  exclaiming  with  the  disciples, 
"  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray,  as  John  also 
taught  his  disciples," 

Now  it  is  a  very  important  use  which 
has  thus  been  made  of  the  text,  in  that 
the  approach  of  the  disciples  to  the 
Savior,  at  the  moment  of  his  rising 
from  prayer,  serves  to  admonish  us  as 
to  Christ's  power  of  sympathy,  "  in 
that  he  himself  hath  suffered,  beinsr 
tempted;  and  to  encourage  us  to  go 
to  him  in  the  full  assurance  of  his  be- 
ing as  well  able  to  understand,  as  to 
satisfy,  our  wants.  But  there  is  still 
a  very  beautiful  account  to  which  to 
turn  the  fact,  that  it  was  immediately 
on  his  rising  from  his  knees,  that  our 
Lord  delivered,  for  the  second  time, 
his  form  of  prayer  to  his  disciples. 
There  was,  as  we  have  already  hinted, 
an  evident  appropriateness  in  the  re- 
quest of  the  disciples,  if  you  consi- 
der it  relatively  to  the  employment  in 
which  Christ  had  just  been  engaged. 
It  was  not  a  request  to  be  taught  how 
to  preach — that  might  have  been  the 
more  suitable  had  Christ  just  delivered 
his  sermon  on  the  Mount.  It  was  not 
a  request  to  be  enabled  to  work  mira- 
cles— that  might  have  more  naturally 
followed,  had  Christ  just  been  healing 
the  sick  or  casting  out  devils.  But  it 
was  a  request  for  instruction  in  prayer, 
coming  immediately  on  Christ's  having 
been  praying,  as  though  the  disciples 
felt    that   he    must  then  have   known 


512 


THE  seco:nd  delivery  of  the  lord  s  pbayer. 


most  of  the  difliculties  of  prayer,  and 
also  of  its  privileges;  and  that,  his 
soul  having  been  engaged  in  high 
communion  with  God,  his  tongue 
might  be  expected  to  clothe  itself 
with  the  richest  expressions  of  desire 
and  the  most  potent  words  of  entreaty. 
And  you  will  all  feel  how  natural, 
or  rather,  how  just,  was  this  thought 
of  the  disciples,  that  the  best  moment 
for  a  lesson  from  Christ  in  prayer,  was 
when  Christ  himself  had  just  finished 
praying.  It  is  precisely  the  thought 
which  we  ourselves  should  entertain, 
and  on  which  we  should  be  ready  to 
act,  in  regard  of  any  eminent  saint 
from  whom  we  might  wish  instruction 
and  assistance.  If,  feeling  my  want 
of  some  other  form  of  prayer  than  that 
which  I  possess,  I  determined  to  ap- 
ply to  a  christian  distinguished  by  his 
piety,  and  to  ask  him  to  compose  for 
me  a  form,  at  what  moment,  if  I  might 
choose,  would  I  prefer  my  request  1 
At  the  moment  of  his  rising  from  his 
knees.  When,  I  should  say  to  myself, 
is  his  mind  so  likely  to  be  in  a  devo- 
tional attitude,  when  may  I  so  justly 
expect  the  frame  and  the  feeling  adapt- 
ed to  the  dictating  pregnant  and  pre- 
vailing petitions,  as  when  he  is  fresh 
from  the  footstool  of  God,  and  has  not 
yet  lost  the  unction  which  may  be  be- 
lieved to  have  been  on  him,  as  he  com- 
muned with  Heaven'? 

But,  were  I  to  address  myself  to  him 
at  this  moment  with  my  request,  and 
were  he,  in  reply,  simply,  but  solemn- 
ly, to  repeat  to  me  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
what  should  I  conclude!  Certainly 
that,  in  his  judgment,  and  when  more- 
over that  judgment  was  best  circum- 
stanced for  deciding,  no  prayer  could 
be  composed  so  admirably  adapted  to 
the  expression  of  my  wants  as  this ; 
and  that,  having  this,  I  required  no 
other.  It  is  a  separate  question  whe- 
ther his  decision  would  be  right ;  we 
now  only  urge,  that,  in  no  conceivable 
method,  could  he  deliver  a  stronger 
testimony  to  the  excellence  of  the 
Lord's  Prayer. 

But  this 'is  exactly  the  kind  of  testi- 
mony which  is  furnished  by  the  cir- 
cumstances related  in  our  text.  Christ, 
on  rising  from  his  knees,  is  asked  by 
his  disciples  for  a  form  of  prayer 
adapted  to  seasons  of  private  devo- 
tion.   He  does  nothing  but  repeat  the 


prayer  which  he  had  delivered  in  his 
Sermon  on  the  Mount.  What  an  evi- 
dence that  no  better  could  be  furnish- 
ed! Fresh  as  he  was  from  direct  in- 
tercourse with  his  Father  in  heaven, 
the  spirit  warmed,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
through  devotional  exercise,  he  could 
furnish  no  fuller,  no  more  comprehen- 
sive expression  of  the  wants  and  de- 
sires, which,  as  creatures,  we  may 
spread  before  our  Creator,  than  the 
few  and  brief  petitions  which  he  had 
combined  on  a  previous  occasion. 

There  is  nothing  which  gives  me  so 
exalted  an  idea  of  the  worth  and  ex- 
cellence of  the  Lord's  Prayer  as  this. 
In  many  ways,  indeed,  may  this  worth 
and  excellence  be  demonstrated;  every 
new  demonstration  not  only  establish- 
ing the  points  in  debate,  but  suggest- 
ing material  for  additional  proof.  And 
we  owe  much  to  commentaries  on  the 
Lord's  Prayer  by  learned  and  pious 
men,  who,  expanding  its  several  peti- 
tions, have  shown  that  there  is  nothing 
which  we  can  lawfully  desire,  whether 
for  this  world  or  for  the  next,  whether 
as  inhabitants  of  earth  or  as  candidates 
for  heaven,  which  is  not  virtually  con- 
tained in  these  few  sentences.  Other 
forms  of  prayer,  so  far  as  they  are 
scriptural  and  sound,  are  but  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  beaten  out,  its  sylla- 
bles spread,  as  they  may  be,  into  vo- 
lumes. Indeed,  there  is  no  slight  ana- 
logy between  this  prayer  and  the  law. 
The  law  was  given  twice,  even  as 
this  prayer  was  given  twice.  The  law, 
meaning  thereby  the  Ten  Command- 
ments, is  a  summary  of  all  things  to 
be  done  ;  and  this  prayer,  of  all  things 
to  be  desired.  The  law  divides  itself 
into  duties  which  have  respect  to  God 
and  duties  which  have  respect  to  man; 
and,  similnrly,  the  prayer  contains  pe- 
titions for  God's  honor,  and  then  peti- 
tions for  others  and  ourselves.  And  as 
the  few  precepts  of  the  moral  law,  when 
expounded  by  our  blessed  Redeemer, 
grew — like  the  (ew  loaves  which,  be- 
neath his  creative  touch,  became  the 
food  of  thousands — till  there  was  a 
command  for  every  action,  yea,  a  rule 
for  each  word  and  each  thought ;  so 
has  the  prayer  only  to  be  drawn  out 
by  a  spiritual  apprehension,  and  there 
is  a  breathing  for  every  want,  an  ex- 
pression for  every  desire,  an  ejacula- 
tion for  every  emergence. 


THE    SECOND    DELIVERY    OF   THE    LORD  S    PRAYER. 


513 


But  whilst  all  this  maybe  satisfacto- 
rily shown  through  lengthened  and  pa- 
tient inquiry,  and  whilst  we  may  here- 
by reach  conviction  of  such  a  fulness 
and  such  a  comprehensiveness  in  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  that  we  ask  every  thing 
which  we  ought  to  ask  in  offering  its 
petitions,  the  short,  but  equally  sure, 
mode  of  establishing  the  fact,  is  to  ob- 
serve how  this  prayer  was  the  second 
time  delivered.  I  am  never  so  impress- 
ed with  the  beauty,  the  depth,  the 
largeness,  yea,  the  inexhaustibleness 
of  this  form,  as  when  I  hear  it  Uttered 
by  Christ  in  reply  to  the  request  of 
his  disciples.  If  I  ever  feel  wearied  by 
repetitions  of  this  prayer,  or  tempted 
to  think  that  some  variation  from  it 
would  be  an  improvement,  I  can  look 
at  the  circumstances  of  its  second  de- 
livery, and  want  no  other  commentary 
to  convict  me  of  error.  It  is  not  the 
first  delivery  which  is  so  replete  and 
reproachful  in  evidence.  I  receive  in- 
deed the  prayer  with  all  docility,  and 
all  reverence,  as  it  falls  from  the  Savi- 
or's lips  in  his  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
But  he  then  delivered  it  as  a  form  for 
public  prayer,  suited  to  numbers  who 
might  not  have  made  much  progress 
in  religion  :  had  he  been  afterwards 
asked,  he  might  have  furnished  a  yet 
intenser  and  more  spiritual  model, 
for  such  as  were  of  higher  growth  in 
piety.  Besides,  our  Lord  was  then 
preaching;  and  the  temperament,  if 
we  may  use  the  expression,  of  the 
preacher,  is  not  likely  to  be  that  which 
is  most  adapted  to  prayer.  Without 
confounding  the  Redeemer  with  one  of 
ourselves,  we  may,  in  a  measure,  just- 
ly reason  from  ourselves,  when  consi- 
dering what  occupation  is  most  conge- 
nial with  devotional  feeling.  And,  cer- 
tainly, the  .attitude  of  an  instructor 
does  not  commend  itself  as  best  suit- 
ed to  the  spirit  of  a  suppliant.  If  I 
wanted  tuition  from  a  preacher  in 
prayer,  I  should  not  wish  it  from  him 
whilst  he  was  preaching,  not  even 
though  prayer  might  be  the  subject 
of  his  sermon.  I  would  go  to  him  in 
his  closet  rather  than  in  his  pulpit ; 
that,  in  the  more  subdued  tone  of 
mind,  in  the  calmer,  the  more  chas- 
tened and  abased  sentiments  which 
may  be  expected  in  a  man  prostrate 
before  God,  as  compared  with  the 
same  man  haranguing  his  fellow-men, 


I  might  have  better  ground  of  hope 
for  those  contrite  expressions,  those 
burdened  cadences,  those  glowing  as- 
pirations, which  befit  the  supplications 
of  one  fallen  but  redeemed.  And  it  is 
in  no  sense  derogatory  to  the  blessed 
Redeemer,  to  say,  that  if  I  had  only 
his  sermon-delivery  of  his  prayer,  it 
would  not,  of  itself,  have  convinced 
me  that  even  he  could  not  have  given 
a  more  admirable  form.  I  might  have 
felt,  and  wathout  violation  to  the  awe 
and  reverence  due  to  such  a  being,  that 
the  moment  when  I  should  have  best 
liked  to  hear  him  express  himself  in, 
prayer,  was  not  the  moment  of  his  up- 
braiding the  hypocrites  who  stood  "  in 
the  corners  of  the  streets,"  or  the  hea- 
then who  were  noted  for  their  ''  vain 
repetitions." 

But  the  prayer  is  given  a  second 
time,  after  considerable  interval,  given 
that  it  may  serve  for  private  devotion; 
given  by  Christ,  not  when  addressing 
a  multitude,  but  when  just  risen  from 
his  knees.  Oh,  I  want  nothing  further 
to  tell  me,  that-  the  Lord's  prayer  is 
fuller  than  human  need  can  exhaust, 
humbler  than  human  worthlessness  can 
sink,  higher  than  human  piety  can  soar. 
I  ask  no  leaVned  commentary,  no  la- 
bored exposition  ;  I  have  Christ's  own 
testimony,  given  exactly  Avhen  that  tes- 
timony has  the  greatest  possible  pow- 
er, that  nothing  can  be  added  to  the 
prayer,  nothing  excogitated  of  loftier, 
intenser,  more  disinterested,  and  yet 
more  self-seeking  supplication,  \vhen 
I  find  that  it  was  v/hen  he  had  been 
"  praying  in  a  certain  place,"  and  as 
"he  ceased"  from  his  prayer,  that  he 
re-delivered  the  same  form  to  his  dis- 
ciples, and  in  answer  to  their  entreaty, 
'■  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray,  as  John  also 
taught  his  disciples." 

Now  you  will  all  feel  for  yourselves 
that  the  practical  point  involved  in 
this  express  and  striking  testimony  of 
Christ  to  the  fulness  of  his  prayer,  and 
its  appropriateness  to  all  persons,  pla- 
ces, and  seasons,  is,  that  there  must  be 
something  wrong  in  the  man  who  finds 
the  Lord's  prayer  insufficient  or  un- 
suitable. We  are  far  from  meaning 
that  no  other  form  of  prayer  should  be 
used:  the  mind  will  often  wish,  will 
often  need,  to  dwell  on  some  one  par- 
ticular desire ;  and  though,  beyond 
question,  that  desire  has  expression  in 
65 


514 


THE    SECOND    DELIVERY    OF    THE    LORD'S    I'KAYER. 


the  Lord's  prayer,  it  is  there  so  con- ' 
densed  that  he  who  would  be  importu- 
nate at  the  mercy-seat  may  be  aided 
by  a  more  expanded  statement. 

But,  at  all  events,  enough  has  been 
adduced  to  prove  that  the  Lord's  prayer 
should  enter  largely  both  into  public 
and  private  devotion,  and  that,  though 
it  ought  not  to  supersede  every  other, 
yet  ought  no  other  to  be  a  substitute 
for  it.  And  if  we  had  but  a  minute  to 
spend  in  prayer,  what  but  the  Lord's 
prayer  should  occupy  that  minute  1 
better  that  we  gather  into  that  minute 
all  that  can  be  asked  for  time  and  for 
eternity,  than  that  we  give  it  to  any 
less  pregnant  expression  of  the  wants 
and  desires  of  a  Christian.  But  exam- 
ine yourselves  in  this  matter ;  compare 
your  own  sense  of  the  sufficiency  of 
the  Lord's  prayer  with  the  remarkable 
attestation  to  that  sufllciency  which 
Ave  have  found  given  by  our  Savior 
himself:  and  if  the  prayer  still  seem 
to  you  inadequate ;  if,  in  short,  you 
feel  as  though  you  could  not  pray  suf- 
ficiently, if,  on  any  account,  you  were 
actually  limited  to  the  use  of  this 
prayer,  then  let  the  comparison  set 
you  on  the  searching  deeply  into  the 
state  of  your  hearts.  For,  surely,  he 
has  reason  to  fear  that  his  desires 
should  be  checked  rather  than  cher- 
ished, his  wants  denied  rather  than 
declared,  Vv^ho  can  find  no  expression 
for  them  in  petitions  which  were  not 
only  dictated  by  Christ,  but  affirmed 
by  him  to  comprehend  whatsoever  we 
might  ask. 

But,  commending  this  to  your  se- 
rious meditation,  we  would,  in  conclu- 
sion, dwell  for  a  moment  on  the  re- 
ference made  by  the  disciples  to  the 
instruction  in  prayer  which  had  been 
furnished  by  th§  Baptist.  They  ask, 
you  obsferve,  of  Christ,  that  he  would 
teach  them  to  pray  "  as  John  also 
taught  his  disciples."  We  have  no 
means  of  ascertaining  what  form  of 
prayer  had  been  given  by  the  Baptist. 
But  it  should  be  observed  that  the 
Jews'  daily  and  common  prayers,  their 
ordinary  and  occasional,  consisted 
chiefly  of  benedictions  and  doxologies  ; 
they  had,  indeed,  their  petitionary  or 
supplicatory  prayers  ;  but  these  were 
few  in  number,  and  less  copious.  Now 
it  seems  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
the   Baptist  taught  a   form  of  prayer 


differing  from  what  the  Jewish  forms 
were  ;  he  had  to  inculcate  other  doc- 
trines than  those  to  which  the  people 
were  used  ;  and  it  can  hardly,  there- 
fore, be  doubted  that  he  instructed 
them  to  pray  in  a  manner  more  accor- 
dant with  the  new  dispensation  which 
he  was  commissioned  to  announce  as 
''at  hand."  If,  standing  as  he  did  be- 
tween the  Law  and  the  Gospel,  John 
did  not  fully  unfold  the  peculiar  truths 
which  Christ  was  afterwards  to  an- 
nounce, he  nevertheless  spake  of 
things,  the  attaining  which  supposed 
that  petitions  were  presented  unto 
God — how  then  can  we  question  that 
he  taught  his  followers  to  pray  for 
these  things '? 

Hence,  the  probability,  at  least,  is, 
that  in  opposition  to  the  custom  of  the 
Jews,  whose  prayers  were  mostly  be- 
nedictory, John  gave  his  disciples 
prayers  which  were  chiefly  petition- 
ary ;  and  that,  when  our  Lord  was 
asked  for  instruction  in  prayer,  similar 
to  what  had  been  afl^orded  by  the  Bap- 
tist, the  thing  sought  was  some  form 
of  supplication,  strictly  and  properly 
so  called.  And  this  agrees  excellently 
with  the  answer  of  our  Lord  ;  for  by 
omitting  the  doxology  with  which  he 
had  concluded  his  prayer  on  the  first 
delivery,  he  gave  a  form  of  devotion 
which  was  purely  petitionary. 

But  the  disciples  of  Christ  may  not 
have  referred  to  the  particular  charac- 
ter of  the  form  of  prayer  given  by 
John,  but  only  to  the  fact,  that  the 
Baptist  had  furnished  his  followers 
with  some  form  or  another.  And 
then  there  is  something  very  inter- 
esting in  their  request,  as  grounding 
itself  on  what  had  been  done  by  a 
teacher  of  far  less  authority  and  wis- 
dom than  their  own.  It  was  as  much 
as  to  say,  even  "  the  voice  of  one  cry- 
ing in  the  wilderness"  gave  lessons  in 
prayer  ;  and  shall  not  the  voice  of  Him 
of  whom  that  stern  voice  was  the  har- 
binger, instruct  us  how  to  approach 
the  Lord  of  the  whole  earth"?  The 
disciples  of  the  forerunner  had  the  pri- 
vilege of  hearing  from  him  what  peti- 
tions should  be  oflercd — shall  not  the 
disciples  of  the  IMessiah  enjoy  a  simi- 
lar privilege,  though  greater  in  pro- 
portion as  he  is  greater  than  his  mes- 
senger 1 

There  is  then   an  argument,  so  to 


PECULIARITIES    IN  THE   MIRACLE    IN    THE    COASTS    OF    DECAPOLIS. 


515 


speak,  from  the  instruction  afForded  by 
tlie  inferior  teacher,  to  that  which  may 
be  expected,  or  hoped  for,  from  the 
superior.  And  it  is  an  argument  of 
which  we  may  legitimately  ihake  use, 
whether  as  pledging  God  to  give,  or 
emboldening  us  to  ask.  We  may  right- 
ly reason  that,  if  the  disciples  of  the 
lower  master  have  been  favored  with  a 
lesson,  the  disciples  of  the  higher  will 
not  be  left  uninstructed.  We  may  right- 
ly reason,  yea,  we  may  present  our- 
selves before  our  Savior  with  the  rea- 
soning on  our  lips,  that  if,  not  only  the 
disciples  of  the  Baptist,  but  the  disci- 
ples also  of  natural  religion,  have  been 
taught  to  pray,  the  disciples  of  the 
Christ  shall  be  yet  more  deeply  and 
powerfully  schooled. 

We  have  sat,  as  it  were,  at  the  feet 
of  nature  ;  and  in  her  every  work  and 
her  every  gesture,  in  her  silences  and 
in  her  utterances,  she  has  bidden  us 


wait  upon  God,  and  seek  at  his  hands 
the  supply  of  our  wants.    There  is  no- 
thing on  which  creation  is  more  elo- 
quent, nothing  more  syllabled  by  the 
animate  and  the  inanimate,  by  the  mu- 
sic of  its  mighty  movements,  the  rush 
of  its  forces,  the  lowing  of  its  herds, 
than  that  all  things  hang  on  the  uni- 
versal  Parent,  and  that  his  ear  is  open 
to  the  universal  petition.   And  if  even 
nature  do  thus  instruct  us  to  pray,  what 
may  we  not  expect  from  the  Lord  our 
Redeemer  1  We  will  approach  him,  en- 
couraged by  the  tuition  of  a  prophet, 
which  is,  at  best,  but  his  messenger  or 
herald.    We  will  say  to  him,  Even  the 
stars,  the  forests,  and  the  mountains, 
the  works  of  thine  Almighty  hands,  bid 
us  bow  the  knee,  and  supplicate  the  in- 
visible God.    But  we  need  a  higher,  a 
more  spiritual,  lesson.    Lord,  do  Thou 
teach  us  to  pray,  seeing  that  even  na- 
ture hath  taught  her  disciples. 


SERMON    X. 


PECULIARITIES  IN  THE  MIRACLE  IN  THE  COASTS  OF  DECAPOLIS. 


And  he  took  him  aside  from  the  multitude,  and  put  his  fingers  into  his  ears,  and  he  spit,  and  touched 
his  tongue ;  and  looking  up  to  heaven,  he  sighed,  and  said  unto  him,  Epliphatha,  that  is.  Be  open- 
ed."—Mark,  7  :  33,  34. 


We  do  not  bring  the  succeeding 
verse  into  our  text.  You  know  that  the 
words  which  we  have  read  to  you  re- 
late to  the  Lord  our  Redeemer ;  and 
you  need  not  be  told,  that,  with  him, 
to  attempt  was  to  accomplish  a  mira- 
cle. The  subject  of  the  present  mira- 
cle was  "  one  that  was  deaf  and  had 
an  impediment  in  his  speech  ;"  and  the 
result  of  our  Lord's  command,  "  Epli- 
phatha," was,  that  ''  straightway  his 
ears  were  opened,  and  the  string  of  his 
tongue  was  loosed,  and  he  spake  plain." 


The  miracles  of  our  Lord  were  as 
diversified  as  are  human  wants  and  in- 
firmities: what  sorrow  was  there  for 
the  soothing  of  which,  what  sickness 
for  the  healing  of  which,  he  did  not 
employ  his  supernatural  powers  1  But 
the  miracles  were  diversified,  not  only 
as  to  the  things  done,  but  as  to  the 
manner  also  in  which  they  were  done : 
sometimes,  indeed  for  the  most  part, 
our  Lord  only  spake  the  word  or  laid 
his  hand  on  the  suffering;  at  other 
times,  virtue  went  out  from  him,  when 


516 


PECULIARITIES    IN    THE    MIKACLE    IN    THE    COASTS   OF    DECAPOLIS. 


touched  by  the  afflicted ;  and  in  some 
few  instances,  amongst  which  is  that 
recorded  in  the  text,  he  employed,  out- 
ward signs,  though  not  such  as  could 
have  possessed  any  natural  efficacy. 

We  doubt  not  that  many  useful  les- 
sons might  be  drawn  from  the  different 
modes  wherein  Christ  thus  displayed 
his  miraculous  power.  Considering  mi- 
racles as  parables,  figurative  exhibi- 
tions of  the  doctrines,  as  well  as  forci- 
ble evidences  of  the  divine  origin,  of 
Christianity,  we  may  believe  that  they 
are  not  void  of  instruction  in  the  minu- 
test of  their  circumstances,  but  furnish, 
in  every  particular,  something  on  which 
the  christian  may  meditate  with  advan- 
tage. Neither  is  this  true  only  when 
you  assign  a  parabolic  character  to  the 
miracles  of  our  Lord:  setting  aside 
the  parabolic  character,  and  observing 
merely  how  diflerence  in  mode  was 
adapted  to  difference  in  circumstances, 
you  will  often  find  occasion  to  admire 
a  display  of  wisdom  and  benevolence,- 
to  confess  the  narrative  profitable,  not 
only  as  adding  another  testimony  to  the 
divine  power  of  Christ,  but  as  showing 
how  he  sought  to  make  that  power  sub- 
serve his  great  design  of  bringing  sin- 
ners to  faith  in  himself. 

We  shall  find  this  exemplified  as  we 
proceed  with  the  examination  of  the 
narrative  which  we  have  taken  as  our 
subject  of  discourse.  Our  foregoing  ob- 
servations will  have  prepared  you  for 
our  not  insisting  on  the  display  of  di- 
vine power,  but  engaging  you  with  the 
peculiaritieswhich  attended  the  display 
— peculiarities  from  which  we  shall  en- 
deavor to  extract  evidences  of  Christ's 
goodness,  and  lessons  for  ourselves. 
With  this  purpose  in  view,  let  us  go 
straightway  to  the  scene  presented  by 
the  Evangelist :  let  us  follow  the  Re- 
deemer as  he  takes  the  deaf  man  aside 
from  the  multitude,  and  let  us  observe, 
with  the  attentiveness  due  to  the  ac- 
tions of  One  who  did  "  all  things  well," 
the  course  which  he  adopts  in  unstop- 
ping his  ears  and  loosening  his  tongue. 

Now  you  must  all  be  aware,  that,  in 
order  to  constitute  a  miracle,  properly 
so  called,  there  must  be  the  absence  of 
all  instrumentality  which  is  naturally 
adapted  to  produce  the  result.  Sick- 
ness may  be  removed  by  the  applica- 
tion of  remedies;  but  he  who  applies 
them  is  never  regarded  as  workinjr  a 


miracle  ;  he  may,  indeed,  excite  sur- 
prise by  using  means  which  shall  be 
rapidly  effectual  in  a  case  which  had 
been  thought  desperate,  but,  whatever 
the  tribute  paid  to  his  science  and  skill, 
the  whole  virtue  is  assumed  to  lie  in 
the  remedies  employed ;  and  no  one 
imagines,  when  looking  on  the  recov- 
ered individual,  that  there  has  been  any 
thing  approaching  to  the  exercise  of 
supernatural  power.  But  if  the  applied 
remedies  Avere  such  as  had  evidently 
no  tendency  to  the  eflecting  a  cure,  you 
would  begin  to  suspect  something  of 
miraculous  agency  5  and  yet  further,  if 
no  remedies  whatsoever  were  used,  if 
the  sickness  departed  at  the  mere  bid- 
ding of  the  physician,  you  would  be  al- 
most sure  that  God  had  distinctly  and 
unusually  interfered — interfered  so  as 
to  suspend  the  known  laws  which  or- 
dinarily determine  his  workings.  So 
long,  perhaps,  as  any  remedy  appeared 
to  be  applied,  you  would  be  scrupulous 
as  to  admitting  a  miracle  ;  the  remedy 
might,  indeed,  seem  quite  unsuited  to 
the  end  for  which  it  was  employed,  not 
possessing  any  known  virtue  for  re- 
moving the  disease  ;  but  still  it  might 
possess  properties  not  before  ascer- 
tained ;  and  it  is  easier,  and  perhaps 
juster,  to  conclude  the  sickness  over- 
come through  some  unsuspected  ener- 
gy in  the  visible  means,  than  through 
some  invisible  power  altogether  uncon- 
nected with  those  means. 

Hence  it  is  a  necessary  criterion  in 
the  determining  a  miracle,  that  it  be  al- 
together independent  on  second  causes, 
and  therefore  be  performed  without  any 
natural  instrument.  And  this  is  a  crite- 
rion to  which  the  miracles  of  our  Lord 
may  safely  be  brought :  it  was  only  on 
one  or  two  occasions  that  any  thing 
external  was  employed,  and  even  on 
these  it  could  not  be  suspected  that 
means  were-  applied  in  which  any  vir- 
tue dwelt.  The  most  remarkable  of  such 
occasions  was  that  of  the  healing  of 
the  man  who  had  been  born  blind  :  our 
Lord  "  spat  upon  the  ground,  and  made 
clay  of  the  spittle,  and  he  anointed  the 
eyes  of  the  blind  man  with  the  clay,  and 
said  unto  him,  Go,  wash  in  the  pool  of 
Siloam."  Here  there  was  a  great  deal 
of  preparation:  and  had  not  the  case 
been  that  of  blindness  from  the  birth, 
which  was  accounted  incurable  through 
any  natural  n.ems,  it  might  have  been 


PECULIARITIES   IN    THE    BIIEACLE   IN    THE    COASTS    OF    DECAPOLIS. 


517 


suspected  that  Christ  had  applied  some 
powerful  ointment,  which,  left  for  a 
time  on  the  defective  organ,  and  then 
washed  off,  would  effect,  as  he  had  dis- 
covered, a  radical  cure.  Even  in  this 
case,  how'ever,  it  never  seems  to  have 
occurred  to  the  Jews,  that  the  thing 
which  had  been  wrought  might  not 
have  been  actually  supernatural :  the 
whole  process  was  accurately  reported 
to  the  Pharisees ;  but,  though  they  were 
most  eager  to  disprove  or  depreciate 
the  cure,  they  never  thought  of  ascrib- 
ing any  virtue  to  the  clay  ;  it  was  mani- 
festly so  void  of  all  natural  efficacy  for 
the  restoration  of  sight,  that  they  treat- 
ed the  cure  as  wrought  by  a  word,  with- 
out even  the  apparent  employment  of 
any  second  cause. 

Nevertheless,  we  may  safely  admit, 
that,  had  our  Lord  always  acted  in  this 
manner,  had  he  never  performed  a  mi- 
racle without  using  some  outward  in- 
strumentality, there  might  have  been 
room  for  suspecting  that  a  connection 
existed  between  the  instrumentality 
and  the  result,  and  that,  therefore,  it 
was  not  necessarily  beyond  a  doubt, 
that  miracle  had  been  actually  w^rought. 
There  can,  however,  be  no  place  for 
such  a  suspicion,  inasmuch  as  the  oc- 
casions were  very  rare  on  which  our 
Lord  did  more  than  speak  that  word 
which  was  always  "  with  power."  But 
we  are  bound  to  consider  whether,  in 
the  few  cases  where  external  applica- 
tion was  employed,  there  was  not  some 
reason  for  the  seeming  departure  from 
a  rule,  which  may  be  said  to  have  been 
prescribed  by  the  very  nature  of  mira- 
cle. If  w'e  find  this  reason  in  any  one 
case,  it  may,  probably,  be  extended  to 
all ;  and  we  shall  therefore  confine  our- 
selves to  the  instance  presented  by  our 
subject  of  discourse. 

Here,  as  in  the  case  of  the  blind  man, 
there  was  an  external  appliance,  though 
not  equally  calculated  to  suggest  doubt 
as  to  the  actualness  of  the  miracle. 
Our  Lord  put  his  fingers  into  the  man's 
ears,  and  then  spat,  and  touched  his 
tongue.  It  could  hardly  be  imagined, 
by  the  most  suspicious  or  incredulous 
of  beings,  that  there  was  any  natural 
connection  between  what  our  Lord 
thus  did,  and  the  effect  which  was  pro- 
duced ;  and  that,  consequently,  Christ 
was  nothing  but  a  skilful  physician, 
acquainted  with  remedies  which  had 


not  yet  been  discovered  by  others  of 
his  race.  If  there  were  any  virtue  in 
the  action  used  by  Christ,  it  was  mani- 
festly a  virtue  derived  altogether  from 
his  superhuman  character :  allowing 
that  there  was  power  in  his  touch,  it 
could  only  have  been  from  the  same 
reason  that  there  was  power  in  his 
word  :  the  finger  was  ''  the  finger  of 
God,"  even  as  the  voice  was  that 
which  had  spoken  all  things  into  being. 

Yet  it  could  not  have  been  Avithout 
any  meaning,  though  it  may  have  been 
without  any  efficaciousness  to  the  heal- 
ing of  disease,  that  ^Christ  employed 
these  outward  signs  :  some  purpose 
must  have  been  subserved,  forasmuch 
as  we  may  be  sure  that  there  w^as  ne- 
ver any  thing  useless  or  superfluous  in 
the  actions  of  our  Lord.  And  the  rea- 
son wdiy  Christ  thus  touched  the  de- 
fective organs,  before  uttering  the 
word  which  Avas  to  speak  them  into 
health,  may  be  found,  as  is  generally 
allowed,  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
man  on  whom  the  miracle  was  about 
to  be  wrought.  This  man,  you  will 
observe,  does  not  seem  to  have  come 
to  Christ  of  his  own  accord  :  it  is  ex- 
pressly stated,  "  And  they  bring  unto 
him  one  that  was  deaf,  and  had  an  im- 
pediment in  his  speech,  and  they  be- 
seech him  to  put  his  hand  upon  him." 
The  whole  was  done  by  the  relatives 
or  friends  of  the  afflicted  individual : 
for  any  thing  that  appears  to  the  con- 
trary, he  himself  may  have  had  no 
knowledge  of  Jesus  ;  and,  indeed,  since 
his  condition  disqualified  him  for  hold- 
ing any  conversation,  it  is  likely  that 
he  was  in  a  great  degree  ignorant  of 
the  Prophet  that  had  arisen  in  the  land. 

But  this  very  fact  rendered  it  impor- 
tant that  means  should  be  taken  to  ac- 
quaint him  thoroughly  wath  the  person 
that  effected  his  cure,  not  only  in  order 
to  his  own  satisfaction,  but  to  qualify 
him  to  bear  witness  in  favor  of  Christ. 
And  it  is  easily  seen  that  what  our  Lord 
did  was  exactly  adapted  to  such  a  pur- 
pose as  this.  He  took  him  aside  from 
the  multitude,  because  his  attention  was 
likelj'-  to  be  distracted  by  the  crowed, 
and  Christ  wished  to  fix  it  on  himself 
as  the  author  of  his  cure.  Had  he 
healed  him  immediately,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  throng,  the  man  might 
have  had  no  distinct  impression  as  to 
who  had  been  his  benefactor.     There- 


518 


PECtJLIARITIES    IN    THE    MIRACLE    IN   THE    COASTS    OF    DECArOLIS, 


fore  was  he  separated  from  the  throng  ; 
and  therefore,  yet  further,  when  se- 
parated, was  he  addressed  by  Christ 
through  those  senses  which  remained 
unimpaired:  through  sight  and  through 
touch.  Christ  could  not  speak  to  him, 
as  was  his  ordinary  wont,  and  demand 
from  him  a  confession  of  faith  in  his 
power  to  heal ;  the  man  was  deaf,  so 
that  no  question  could  be  put  to  him, 
and  he  had  an  impediment  in  his  speech 
which  would  have  prevented  his  reply- 
ing. But  he  could  see,  and  could  feel 
what  Christ  did  ;  and  therefore  our 
Lord  supplied  the  place  of  speech,  by 
touching  the  tongue  and  putting  his 
fingers  into  the  ears — for  this  was  vir- 
tually saying  that  he  was  about  to  act 
on  those  organs — and,  by  looking  up 
to  heaven,  for  this  was  informing  the 
deaf  man  that  the  healing  power  must 
come  from  above. 

The  wliole  action  would  seem  to 
have  been  symbolical,  and  accurately 
suited  to  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 
Translate  the  action  into  words,  and 
what  have  we  but  such  sayings  as 
these  ]  "  I  have  taken  thee  aside  from 
the  multitude,  that  thou  mightest  ob- 
serve and  remember  who  it  is  to  whom 
thou  hast  been  brought.  Thine  or- 
gans are  imperfect :  here  are  members 
of  thy  body,  which  are  useless  to  the 
ends  for  which  they  were  given,  and  I 
am  about  to  act  on  them  with  a  power 
which  shall  supply  all  defects.  Yet  I 
would  have  thee  know  that  this  power 
is  but  a  credential  of  my  having  come 
forth  from  God,  and  should  produce  in 
thee  belief  of  my  prophetical  charac- 
ter. Behold,  therefore  :  I  lift  my  eyes 
unto  heaven,  whilst  I  utter  the  word 
which  shall  give  thee  hearing  and 
speech." 

Such,  we  say,  was  virtually  the  ad- 
dress of  our  Lord  to  the  man  on  whom 
he  was  about  to  operate  Vi/^ith  superna- 
tural power ;  not  an  address  in  lan- 
guage, which  was  precluded  by  the 
peculiarities  of  the  case,  but  in  signifi- 
cative, symbolical  action,  which  is  of- 
ten to  the  full  as  expressive  as  words. 
And,  therefore,  it  was  not  without  a 
great  design  and  an  important  meaning 
that  our  Lord  departed  from  his  ordina- 
ry rule,  and  ran,  as  it  might  have  seem- 
ed, the  risk  of  bringing  the  miracle 
into  question,  by  the  privacy  in  which 
he  wrought  it  and  the  external  agency 


of  which  he  made  use.  How  easily 
might  it  have  been  said  that  he  took 
the  man  aside  from  the  multitude,  be- 
cause what  he  was  about  to  do  would 
not  bear  being  inspected,  but  involved 
some  deception  which  could  succeed 
only  in  a  corner.  And  if  suspicion  had 
been  excited  by  his  thus  requiring  a 
retired  place  for  the  performance  of 
the  cure,  how  might  that  suspicion 
have  been  confirmed,  when  the  man 
came  to  tell  in  what  way  he  had  been 
healed  1  ''  See,"  the  people  might  have 
said,  "  there  was  no  miracle  at  all ;  he 
applied  certain  remedies,  and  he  would 
not  suffer  us  to  be  near,  lest  we  should 
discover  his  secret." 

But  Christ  could  venture  to  brave  all 
this  risk  :  his  miraculous  power  was  too 
well  established  to  be  treated  as  a  trick. 
Some  there  were  who  blasphemously 
ascribed  it  to  Satan ;  but  none,  as  it 
would  seem,  had  tlie  hardihood  to  de- 
ny its  existence.  Yet  even  the  appear- 
ance of  place  for  suspicion  would  not 
have  been  given,  without  sufficient 
cause,  by  one  who  was  anxious  to 
leave  no  possible  excuse  for  the  doubt- 
ing whether  or  not  he  were  the  pro- 
mised Messiah.  And  the  sufficient 
cause  is  found  in  the  circumstances 
of  the  case.  It  did  not  content  the 
Redeemer  to  heal  bodily  infirmities: 
he  sought  to  reach  the  inward  man 
through  what  he  did  for  the  outward. 
If  he  gave  the  power  of  hearing  and  of 
speaking,  he  longed  that  the  unstopped 
ear  might  hearken  to  the  Gospel,  and 
the  loosened  tongue  be  employed  on 
the  high  praises  of  God.  But,  in  order 
to  such  ends,  it  was  indispensable  that 
the  man  should  know  Jesus  as  his  be- 
nefactor, and  be  persuaded  that  the 
power,  exerted  on  his  behalf,  was 
wholly  from  above.  But  how  shall  he 
be  instructed  in  such  particulars'?  He 
is  shut  up  in  that  desolation  and  lone- 
liness, which  a  closed  ear  and  a  fast- 
ened tongue  necessarily  produce,  and 
is  not  accessible  through  the  avenues 
by  which  information  is  commonly 
conveyed.  I  will  speak  to  him,  the 
Redeemer  seems  to  say,  through  the 
senses  which  have  been  spared  to  him  : 
sight  and  touch  shall  be  instrumental 
to  the  carrying  of  truth  into  his  yet 
darkened  soul.  0  blessed  Savior,  how 
great  was  thy  condescension,  how  un- 
wearied thine  endeavor  to  do  good  to 


rECULIAUlTIES    IN    THE   MIRACLE    IN    THE    COASTS    OF    DECAl'DLIS. 


519 


sinners !  As  when  thou  wouldest  teach 
thy  disciples  humility,  thou  didst  set  a 
little  child  in  the  midst  of  them ;  and 
when  thou  \youldest  warn  them  of  the 
peril, of  unfruitfulness,  thou  didst  cause 
the  blighted  lij^-tree  to  stand  in  their 
path — so  now  didst  thou  graciously  in- 
struct by  significative  action  ;  and  I  see 
nothing  but  the  merciful,  the  compas- 
sionate, the  patient  Redeemer,  bent  on 
doing  good,  on  instructing  and  blessing 
the  unworthiest,  when  I  see  our  Lord 
taking  the  deaf  man  aside  from  the 
multitude,  and  putting  his  fingers  in- 
to his  ears,  and  touching  his  tongue, 
and  looking  up  to  heaven. 

But  we  have  probably  said  enough 
in  explanation  of  our  Lord's  having 
apparently  made  use  of  external  in- 
strumentality in  effecting  the  miracle 
which  is  under  review.  We  now  wish 
to  lead  you  to  a  wholly  different  topic; 
we  would  have  it  observed  whether  the 
possession  of  miraculous  power  did  not 
operate  upon  Christ  in  a  manner  unlike 
that  in  which  it  would,  most  probably, 
operate  on  ourselves.  We  will  not  exam- 
ine whether,  if  any  one  of  us  were  gift- 
ed with  the  ability  of  doing  marvellous 
things,  he  would  not  be  likely  to  covet 
occasions  of  display,  to  delight  in  op- 
portunities of  manifesting  the  energy, 
when  it  would  excite  most  amazement, 
and  be  hailed  with  the  plaudits  of  a 
thousand  spectators.  Certainly,  it  were 
hardly  to  exaggerate  that  corruption 
which  adheres  to  the  best  of  the  chil- 
dren of  men,  to  say  that  the  tempta- 
tion would  be  found  very  strong  of  ex- 
erting miraculous  power  in  an  ostenta- 
tious mode,  employing  it  to  purposes 
which  might  astonish  by  their  strange- 
ness, and  •  before  multitudes  whose 
applauses  might  be  thereby  secured. 
And,  just  as  certainly,  there  can  be 
nothing  further  removed  from  osten- 
tation, than  our  Lord's  use  of  those 
Avonder-working  powers  with  which  he 
was  endowed.  His  miracles  were  al- 
w^ays  remarkable  for  simplicity,  for  the 
absence  of  every  appearance  of  pomp- 
ous exhibition:  he  never  wrought  a 
marvel  but  when  there  was  good  to 
be  done  ;  and,  in  his  hands,  superhu- 
man might  was  manifestly  consecrated 
to  the  benefiting  others,  and  not  to  the 
vnagnifying  himself. 

But  let  us  admit  that  miraculous 
power    might    be    possessed    by    one 


of  ourselves,  and  that,  along  with 
it,  there  might  be  such  measure  of 
grace  as  would  prevent  any  thing  of 
pride  or  ostentation  in  its  use.  We 
may  still  find  something  to  distinguish 
this  man  of  superhuman  energy  from 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  In  order  to 
this,  let  us  ask  any  one  of  you,  whe- 
ther the  inability  to  relieve  misery  be 
not  almost  as  distressing  as  that  mi- 
sery itself?  If  I  found  one  of  my  fel- 
low-creatures dying  from  want,  what 
wretchedness  should  I  endure  if  I  were 
absolutely  destitute  of  all  power  of 
procuring  him  food !  Whereas,  on  the 
other  hand,  with  what  unmingled  glad- 
ness should  I  hasten  to  his  dwelling,  if 
I  carried  with  me  the  means  of  supply- 
ing his  necessities,  if  I  had  only  to 
open  the  door,  and  plenty  would  flow 
into  the  dreary  abode  !  1  do  not  think 
that  I  could  be  sad  at  such  a  moment. 
My  own  cares  might  be  many,  my  own 
grievances  heavy ;  but  that  I  could 
communicate  happiness,  would  for  the 
time  make  me  happy ;  and  the  eye 
would  be  bright,  and  the  voice  would 
be  joyous,  as  I  said  to  the  sufferer, 
''  Be  of  good  cheer." 

The  like  may  especially  be  aflirmed 
in  regard  of  any  case  of  sickness.  How 
melancholy  is  it  to  stand  over  the  bed 
of  one  writhing  in  pain,  and  to  feel 
that  the  best  which  the  best  affection 
can  do,  is  to  weep  and  to  pray ;  so  ut- 
terly beyond  all  known  remedies  or 
assuagements  is  the  malady  whose  vic- 
tim is  before  us !  O  for  the  power  of 
working  a  miracle  !  With  what  alacri- 
ty,'what  exultation,  would  any  one  of 
us  command  the  disease  to  depart,  if 
there  were  such  energy  in  his  word 
that  it  could  suspend  nature's  laws.. 
I  am  sure  that  there  is  not  one  of 
you,  who,  if  he  possessed  the  power, 
and  heard  of  a  fellow-creature  in  ter- 
rible anguish,  would  not  rush  to  the 
side  of  the  sufferer,  eager  to  employ 
the  power  on  his  behalf,  and  enraptu- 
red with  the  thought  of  being  able  to 
relieve.  Or,  if  the  case  were  not  one 
of  acute  pain,  but  only  of  defect  in 
some  bodily  organ,  Vv'ith  what  pure, 
what  unmixed  satisfaction,  should  we 
exert  ourselves  on  supplying  what  na- 
ture had  denied. 

There  is  something  wonderfully  in- 
teresting, but,  at  the  same  time,  dis- 
tressing, in  the    visiting  the  asylums 


520 


PECULIARITIES    IN    THE    MIIiACLE    Ii\    THE    COASTS    OF    DECAPOLIS, 


which  have  been  reared  for  the  recep- 
tion of  the    blind  or  the  dumb.    It  is 
marvellous  to  observe  what  mental  and 
moral  progress  may  be  made  in  spite 
of   the    dericiency  j   how   the    senses, 
which  are  possessed,  may  be  available 
to  the  very  offices  of  those  which  are 
wanting,  so  that  the  blind  child  shall 
read  the  Bible  with  its  fingers,  and  the 
dumb  communicate  in  writing  all  that 
passes  in  its  spirit.  We  do  not  hesitate 
to  call  it  the  finest  exercise  of  a  power, 
which  is  only  just  short  of  supernatu- 
ral, that,  when  the  eye  refuses  to  col- 
lect the  rays  from  the  material  crea- 
tion, the  hand  can  be  instructed  to  ga- 
ther in  all  the  beauty  and  magnificence 
of  that  spiritual  landscape  which  God 
hath  developed   in    the   pages   of  his 
word  J  and  that  upon  the  soul,  which 
seemed   devoted   to   everlasting   mid- 
night, because  not  accessible  through 
the  medium  of  speech,  there  is  poured, 
through  the  eye,  all  that  mighty  illu- 
mination which  hath  flashed,  in  these 
last  days,  from  ''  the  Father  of  lights." 
But,   with   every  confession   of  the 
wonderfulness  and  beauty  of  the  spec- 
tacle presented  by  an  asylum  whether 
for  the  blind  or  the  dumb,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  there  is  something  dis- 
tressing in  the  sight  of  numbers  who 
never  looked  on  the  glory  of  the  hea- 
vens, or  never  drank  in  the  melody  of 
speech.  Which  of  you,  then,  would  not 
feel  himself  a  happy  man,  if  suddenly 
invested   with   the    power    of  bidding 
the  blind  behold  the  human  face,  and 
the    dumb   hear    and    use   the  human 
voice  ]  We  should  all  perhaps  be  rea- 
dy to  charge  the  possessor  of  such  a 
power  with  something  worse  than  sto- 
icism, with  a  hardness  of  heart  which 
made  it  strange  that  God  should  have 
endowed  him  with    so   signal  a  gift,  if 
he  did  not  manifest  the  greatest  alacri- 
ty in  bestowing  sight  on  the  darkened 
eye-ball,   and   unchaining   the   speech- 
less tongue  ;  or  if,  when  exercising  his 
power,  he  did  not  show  that  to  exer- 
cise it  was  a  source   of  the  intensest 
delight.  And  yet,  my  brethren,  it  does 
not  appear — at   least,  npt  always— to 
have  been  with  a  feeling  of  pleasure 
that    our    blessed   Lord   relieved   the 
woes  to  which  flesh  is  heir.    Oh,  it  is 
a  strange  contrast  between  the  scene 
presented  by.our  text  and  what  proba- 
bly would  be'the  scene,  if  any  amongst 


ourselves  had  the  power  of  healing  the 
deaf  and  the  dumb.  It  shall  be  to  one 
of  you  that  this  poor  man  is  brought 
by  anxious  and  supplicating  friends. 
One  of  you  shall  be  reputed  able  to 
unstop  his  ears  and  loosen  his  tongue  ; 
and  therefore  shall  they,  who  are  eager 
for  his  cure,  come  to  you  imploringly. 
It  is  no  false  rumor  ;  you  have  the 
power  ;  you  are  ready  to  exercise  it. 
I  see  you  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  ; 
you  can  hardly  speak  the  healing  word 
for  gladness  at  being  able  to  confer  so 
great  a  boon.  Yes  ;  this  is  natural,  this 
would  almost  seem  unavoidable  ;  and 
yet,  oh  Avonderful,  it  was  not  thus  that 
our  Redeemer  did  good.  He  manifest- 
ed no  feeling  of  pleasure.  On  the  con- 
trary, you  might  have  thought  it  a 
pain  to  him  to  relieve  misery  j  for  the 
narrative  tells  us,  that,  at  the  instant 
of  giving  utterance  to  the  omnipo- 
tent word,  he  showed  signs  as  of  a 
burdened  and  disquieted  spirit:  ''He 
sighed" — not,  he  smiled;  not,  he  re- 
joiced— but  "  He  sighed,  and  saith  un- 
to him,  Ephphatha,  that  is,  Be  opened." 
Now  we  really  do  not  know  a  more 
affecting  testimony  to  the  fact,  that 
our  Lord  was  ''a  man  of  sorrow,  and 
acquainted  with  grief,"  than  is  thus 
furnished  by  his  sighing  at  the  moment 
of  working  a  benevolent  miracle.  If 
ever  he  experienced  gladness  of  spirit, 
you  would  think  that  it  must  have  been 
when  communicating  happiness — yet 
even  then  ''  He  sighed."  He  sighed  in 
the  act  of  blessing,  as  though  the  boon 
were  wrung  from  him,  and  he  would 
rather  have  denied  it.  Neither  is  this 
a  solitary  instance  of  Christ's  mani- 
festation of  grief  when  engaged  in  giv- 
ing pleasure.  We  have  often  had  occa- 
sion to  point  out  to  you  that  the  tears, 
which  he  wept  at  the  grave  of  Laza- 
rus, were  not  tears  for  the  dead.  There 
is  no  necessity,  in  order  to  the  esta- 
blishing the  comforting  truth  of  Christ's 
perfect  humanity,  and  of  his  sympathy 
with  our  griefs,  that  we  should  suppose 
him  weeping  at  the  grave  of  his  friend, 
as  any  one  of  us  might  weep  over  a 
kinsman  or  child.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
argument  for  Christ's  fellow-feelin<r 
with  the  bereaved,  in  the  tears  of  which 
the  bereaved  so  often  make  mention  ; 
for  there  is  not  one  of  us  who  could 
bewail  the  dead,  if  he  were  under  the 
precise  circumstances  of  Christ,  and 


PECULIARITIES    IN    THE    MIRACLE    IN    THE    COASTS    OF    DECAFOLIS. 


521 


therefore  the  Mediator's  tears  can  be 
no  evidence  of  that  which,  blessed  be 
his  name,  is  incontestably  established 
from  other  proofs,  his  thorough  sym- 
pathy with  the  mourning.  Send  any 
one  of  you  to  the  grave  where  a  dear 
friend  lies  buried — send  him  with  the 
power,  and  for  the  purpose,  of  reani- 
mating that  friend — and  he  could  not 
weep  as  he  went ;  at  least,  if  he  wept, 
they  would  be  tears  of  joy  which  he 
shed;  for  pleasure,  like  pain,  can  force 
drops  from  eyes  which  have  been  dark- 
ened by  sin-  But  the  tears  of  Christ 
were  not  tears  of  joy  ;  for  we  read 
not  only  that  he  wept,  but  that  "He 
groaned  in  the  spirit,  and  was  trou- 
bled;" and  that  "again  groaning  in 
himself,  he  came  to  the  grave."  Hence 
there  is  no  parrying  the  conclusion, 
that  our  blessed  Savior  was  unhappy 
at  the  very  moment  when  you  would 
most  have  expected  him  to  be  happy, 
because  on  the  point  of  making  others 
happy ;  whilst  all  our  foregoing  state- 
ments, as  to  the  pleasure  which  would 
be  felt  by  any  one  of  ourselves  in  the 
exercise  of  supernatural  power,  are 
only  the  more  forcible,  if  the  occasion 
of  that  exercise  might  bear  any  re- 
semblance to  the  raising  of  Lazarus. 

It  is,  therefore,  no  undue  inference 
from  the  circumstance  of  Christ's  sigh- 
ing at  the  instant  of  working  the  mira- 
cle before  us,  when  we  take  it  in  evi- 
dence of  a  depression  of  spirit  which 
would  not  give  way  before  even  that 
most  happy-making  thing,  the  making 
others  happy.  And  again  must  we 
state  that  of  all  the  incidental  proofs — 
proofs  not  the  less  conclusive  because 
easily  overlooked — of  our  Lord's  hav- 
ing been  "  a  man  of  sorrows  and  ac- 
quainted with  grief,"  there  is,  perhaps, 
none  of  a  more  touching  or  plaintive 
character  than  is  thus  furnished  by  our 
text.  Undoubtedly  we  vastly  under- 
rate the  sufferings  of  the  Savior,  when 
we  confine  them  to  scenes  where  per- 
secution was  open,  and  anguish  appa- 
rent. Just  because  there  is  little  said 
of  what  Jesus  endured  until  we  reach 
the  dread  things  of  Gethsemane  and 
Calvary,  it  were  strange,  it  were  sin 
ful,  to  conclude  that  he  was  not  heavi- 
ly oppressed  through  the  whole  of  his 
life.  When  an  apostle  bids  us  "  con- 
sider him  that  endured  such  contra- 
diction of  sinners  atrainst  himself" — 


thus  making  "  the  contradiction  of 
sinners,"  which  was  not  the  thing  of 
a  moment,  but  of  his  every  day,  trom 
first  to  last,  the  description  of  his  en- 
durances— he^fmay  be  said  to  assert 
that  suffering  was  his  unmingled  por- 
tion, as  though,  with  one  of  old,  his 
own  illustrious  type,  he  might  patheti- 
cally have  said,  "  My  tears  have  been 
my  meat  day  and  night."  And  we 
may  not  question  that  such  was  his 
portion.  He  was  a  sacrifice  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave ;  every  instant,  be- 
cause an  instant  of  humiliation  and  en- 
durance added  something  to  the  mys- 
terious and  mighty  oblation.  How 
could  it  have  been  otherwise  1  for  hav- 
ing come  "  unto  his  own,"  and  being 
rejected  by  "  his  own,"  living  in  the 
midst  of  "  a  wicked  and  adulterous 
generation,"  which  he  vainly  strove  to 
save  from  destruction,  there  must  con- 
tinually have  been  a  pressure  on  his 
innocent  spirit,  a  pressure  all  the  iTiore 
intense,  because  not  betrayed  by  any 
outward  sign. 

The  expression  "  acquainted  with 
grief"  is  wonderfully  touching,  and 
perhaps  singularly  accurate.  Grief 
was,  as  it  were,  his  bosom  friend  ;  it 
had  made  way  into  his  breast,  and 
there  set  up  its  home.  His  was  not  an 
occasional  meeting  with  grief;  it  was 
acquaintance,  a  deep,  dark,  bitter  fa- 
miliarity. Oh,  when  you  call  Christ's 
afflictions  to  mind,  afflictions  endured 
"  for  us  men  and  for  our  salvation," 
then  think  not  only  of  the  garden  and 
the  cross ;  consider  him  as  having 
been  incessantly,  as  well  as  intensely, 
disquieted — momentarily  on  the  cross, 
whence  divine  justice  sought  the  pe- 
nalties which  ourselves  had  deserved. 
And  if  you  want  evidence  of  this  con- 
tinuousness  of  sorrow,  the  inconsider- 
able incident — inconsiderable  only  in 
that  you  might  read  it  a  hundred  times 
and  hardly  pause  to  observe  it — the 
inconsiderable  incident  mentioned  in 
our  text  might  suffice  as  a  proof. 
What  so  gratifying  a  thing  as  the 
being  able  to  do  goodl  when  can  a 
good  man  feel  so  happy  as  in  commu- 
nicating happiness  1  If  Christ  were 
not  gladdened  in  making  others  glad, 
when  could  he  have  been  joyful  1 
And,  nevertheless,  he  was  not  then 
gladdened  ;  it  was  then  that  "  he  sigh- 
ed." He  had  gone  aside  from  the 
66 


522 


PECULIARiriES    IN   THE    MIKACLE    IN    THE   COASTS    OF    DEOAPOLIS. 


multitude,  so  that  there  was,  perhaps, 
no  one  to  observe  him.  His  only 
companion  was  deaf,  so  that  though 
he  might  have  been  seen  to  weep,  he 
could  not  be  heard  to  sigh.  There- 
fore was  the  sigh  quite,  so  to  speak, 
between  himself  and  his  Father  in  hea- 
ven. It  was  as  though  he  had  taken 
advantage  of  the  being  alone  and  un- 
noticed, to  gain  a  moment's  vent  for 
that  climbing  sorrow  which  he  was  not 
willing  to  display  before  disciples  who 
loved  him.  And  1  seem  to  need  no- 
thing more  to  tell  me  how  continually 
that  heart  was  wrung,  into  which  sin, 
which  makes  all  our  anguish,  never 
had  penetrated,  than  the  simple  recital 
that,  before  our  blessed  Savior  uttered 
the  word  which  was  to  unstop  the  ear 
and  loosen  the  tongue,  "  he  sighed  5" 
"  looking  up  to  heaven,  "Ae  sighed,  and 
saith  unto  him,  Ephphatha,  that  is,  Be 
opened." 

But  wherefore  did  Christ  sigh"?  was 
it  only  in  evidence  of  the  general  de- 
pression of  a  spirit,  wearied  and  over- 
wrought by  contact  with  wickedness  X 
or  came  the  sigh  from  a  consciousness 
that  the  individual  before  him  would 
be  injured,  rather  than  benefited,  by 
the  miracle  about  to  be  wrought  1 
We  cannot,  of  course,  speak  with  any 
certainty  in  reply  to  these  questions, 
forasmuch  as  the  sacred  historian 
gives  no  account  of  the  feelings  which 
then  struggled  in  the  mind  of  our 
Lord.  Yet  there  are  sundry  interpre- 
tations which  we  may  put  upon  the 
sigh  ;  and  if  we  cannot  determine  the 
true,  we  may,  perhaps,  draw  from 
each  some  material  of  instruction. 

We  may  be  sure,  in  the  first  place, 
as  to  what  did  not  cause  the  sigh  ;  it 
argued  no  distrust  of  his  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, though  it  followed  immediately 
on  his  looking  up  to  his  abode.  The 
looking  up  to  heaven  was  rather  to  di- 
rect the  deaf  man's  attention  to  the 
source  of  healing  power,  than  to  ob- 
tain a  supply  of  that  power.  There 
was  the  same  lifting  up  of  the  eyes  on 
the  occasion  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus; 
and  then  Christ  stated  the  .reason  of 
this  public  appeal  to  the  Father.  "And 
Jesus  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  said. 
Father,  I  thank  thee  that  thou  hast 
heard  me.  And  I  knew  that  thou 
hearest  me  always:  but  because  of  the 
people  which  stand  by,  I  said  it,  that 


they  may  believe  that  thou  hast  sent 
me."  He  was  always  sure,  you  ob 
serve,  of  the  ability  to  work  a  mira- 
cle ;  but  on  certain  occasions  he  saw 
fit  to  preface  the  working  by  an  appeal 
to  God,  in  order  to  impress  on  specta- 
tors that  his  power  was  from  above, 
and  not,  as  had  been  blasphemously 
said,  from  beneath. 

Hence,  the   sigh  could  have  had  no 
such  connection  with  the  looking  up  to 
heaven,  as  might  argue  mistrust  of  the 
Father  whose  will  he  had  come  down 
to  accomplish.   But,  nevertheless,  we 
may  readily  understand  how,  on  the 
instant  of  working  a  miracle,  a  srlance 
towards  heaven  might  cause  Christ  to 
sigh.     Wherefore   had   he    descended 
from  that  bright  abode  if  not  to  achieve 
its  being   opened  to  the  lost  race  of 
manl  And  wherefore  did  he  work  mi- 
racles, if  not  to  fix  attention  on  himself 
as  the  promised  seed  of  the  woman, 
who,  through  obedience  and  death,  was 
to  reinstate  our  lineage  in  the  paradise 
from  which  they  had  been  exiled  for 
sin  %    There  was  a  sufficiency  in  the 
satisfaction    which    he    was    about    to 
;  make,  to  remove  the  curse  from  every 
human  being,  and  to  place  all  the  chil- 
dren of  Adam  in  a  more  glorious  posi- 
tion than  their  common  parent  had  for- 
I  feited.    But  he  knew  too  well  that,  in 
I  regard  of  multitudes,  his  endurances 
i  would  be  fruitless,  fruitless,  at  least,  in 
j  the  sense  of  obtaining  their  salvation, 
j  though  they  cannot  be  in  that  of  vin- 
I  dicating   tlie    attributes   of  God,    and 
I  leaving  the  impenitent  self-condemned 
I  at  the  judgment. 

i      Therefore,  it  may  be,  did  Christ  sigh ; 
;  and  that,  too,  immediately  after  look- 
;  ing  up  to  heaven.    I  can  read  the  sigh ; 
it  is  full  of  most  pathetic  speech.  "  Yon- 
I  der,"  the  Redeemer  seems  to  say,  "  is 
j  the  home  of  my  Father,  of  the  cheru- 
I  bim  and  the   seraphim.   I  would  fain 
conduct  to  that  home  the  race  which 
I  have  made  one  with  Myself,  by  so  as- 
suming their  nature  as  to  join  it  with 
the  divine.   I  am  about  to  work  another 
miracle — to  make,  that  is,  another  ef- 
fort to  induce  the  rebellious  to  take  Me 
as  their  leader  to  yon  glorious  domain. 
But  it  will  be  fruitless ;  I  foresee,  but 
too  certainly,  that  I  shall  still  be  '  de- 
spised and  rejected  of  men.'  "    Then 
who  can  wonder  that  a  sigh  was  thus  in- 
terposed between  the  looking  up  to  hea- 


PECULIARITIES    IN    THE    Nir.ACLE    IN    THE    COASTS    OT    DECAPOLIS. 


523 


ven  and  the  uttering  the  healing  vvordl 
The  eye  of  the  Redeemer  saw  further 
than  our  own.  It  pierced  the  vault 
which  bounds  our  vision,  and  beheld 
the  radiant  thrones  which  his  agony 
would  purchase  for  the  children  of  men. 
And  that  men — men  whom  he  loved 
with  a  love  of  which  that  agony  alone 
gives  the  measure — should  refuse  these 
thrones,  and  thereby  not  only  put  from 
them  happiness,  but  incur  wretched- 
ness without  limit  or  end — must  not 
this  have  been  always  a  crushing  thing 
to  the  Savior'?  and  more  especially 
when,  by  glancing  at  the  glories  which 
might  have  been  theirs,  he  had  height- 
ened his  thought  of  their  madness  and 
misery  1  I  am  sure  that  were  we  striv- 
ing to  prevail  on  some  wretched  being 
to  enter  an  asylum  where  he  would  not 
only  be  sheltered  from  imminent  dan- 
ger, but  surrounded  with  all  the  mate- 
rial of  happiness,  a  look  at  that  asylum, 
with  its  securities  and  comforts,  would 
cause  us  to  feel  sorer  than  ever  at  heart, 
as  we  turned  to  make  one  more  en- 
deavor, likely  to  be  useless  as  every 
preceding,  to  overcome  the  obduracy 
which  must  end  in  destruction.  There- 
fore ought  we  readily  to  understand 
why  the  Redeemer,  bent  only  on  rais- 
ing to  glory  a  race,  of  which  he  fore- 
saw that  myriads  would  voluntarily 
sink  down  to  fire  and  shame,  gave  to- 
ken of  a  distressed  and  disquieted  spi- 
rit, between  looking  towards  heaven 
and  working  a  miracle — as  though  the 
look  had  almost  made  him  reluctant  for 
the  work — ''  looking  up  to  heaven,  he 
sighed,  and  saith  unto  him,  Ephphatha, 
that  is.  Be  opened." 

But  there  may  have  been  reasons, 
personal  to  the  individual  about  to  be 
healed,  Avhich  caused  Christ  to  preface 
the  miracle  with  a  sigh.  We  have  spo- 
ken of  the  delight  wdiichit  would  yield 
to  a  benevolent  man,  if  he  could  go  in- 
to an  asylum  for  the  blind  or  the  deaf, 
and  communicate  by  a  word  the  senses 
which  were  wanting  in  the  objects 
around  him.  But  did  we  not  somewhat 
exaggerate,  when  we  supposed  that  the 
pleasure  would  be  quite  unalloyed  1  It 
could  hardly  fail  but  that  a  suspicion 
would  cross  the  mind  of  the  individual, 
who  had  the  power  of  giving  sight  to 
the  blind,  and  hearing  to  the  deaf,  that, 
but  too  probably,  there  was  some  one 
in  the  group  to  whom  it  would  be  no 


blessing  to  obtain  the  deficient  sense  ; 
who,  if  made  to  see,  would  but  enslave 
himself  to  "the  lust  of  the  eye,"  or 
who,  if  enabled  to  hear  and  to  speak, 
would  but  listen  to  evil,  and  employ  his 
tongue  in  dishonoring  his  God.  We 
know,  too  well,  how  largely  does  our 
every  sense  give  inlet  to  temptation ; 
so  that,  possibly,  the  want  of  one  of 
these  senses  might  often  cause  the  soul 
to  be  assaulted  with  less  vehemence 
from  without.  And  it  is  easy  to  believe 
that  a  blind  person,  to  whom  sight  were 
suddenly  and  miraculously  given,  would 
find  an  inundation,  as  it  were,  of  new 
and  strange  desires,  rushing  on  him 
through  those  magic  organs  which, 
like  Satan  on  the  mountain,  show  us 
"  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and 
their  glory;"  and  that  a  deaf  person, 
Avho  should  obtain  instantaneously  the 
hearing  ear,  and  the  speaking  tongue, 
would  be  so  bewildered  by  the  new  pro- 
cess of  receiving  and  communicating 
thought,  and  so  enabled  to  sin  in  new 
ways,  that,  if  there  were  question  only 
of  the  advantageousness  of  his  condi- 
tion in  regard  of  another  world,  he  had 
better  have  been  confined  to  the  scanty 
intelligence  which  may  be  communi- 
cated in  spite  of  defectiveness  of  or- 
gans, than  have  acquired  abilities  which 
may  be  so  perilously  abused. 

Hence,  it  might  not  be  wholly  with- 
out some  sentiment  of  apprehension 
and  fear,  that  the  benevolent  man  would 
pronounce  the  word  which  was  to  give 
sight  to  the  blind,  or  speech  to  the 
dumb.  It  may  be  that,  notwithstanding 
the  flow  of  pleasurable  feelings  which 
would  seem  necessarily  to  attend  the 
putting  forth  a  power  communicative 
of  such  benefit  and  blessing,  he  would 
sigh,  with  the  Ephphatha  on  his  lips, 
as  the  thought  occurred,  that  the  senses, 
which  he  was  about  to  impart,  might 
only  prove  avenues  of  evil,  and  be  des- 
ecrated to  the  service  of  sin.  But  with 
Christ,  who  could  read  the  human  heart, 
and  foresee  the  human  life,  there  could 
not  have  been  doubtfulness  as  to  the 
moral  issue  of  the  miracle.  He  must 
have  unerringly  known  whether  the  in- 
dividual before  him  would  be  healed  in 
soul  as  well  as  body;  whether  the  won- 
der, of  which  he  was  the  subject,  would 
lead  to  faith  in  the  prophet  by  whom 
it  was  wrought ;  whether  the  organs, 
which  he  was  about  to  obtain,  would 


524. 


PECULIARITIES    IN    THE    MIRACLE    IN    THE    COASTS    OF    DECAP0LI3. 


be  employed  on  the  glorifying,  or  on 
the  dishonoring,  God.  And  perhaps  he 
foreknew  that  the  man,  when  healed, 
would  be  found  amongst  his  persecu- 
tors, and  oh,  if  so,  how  could  he  but 
sigh,  sigh  deeply  and  painfully,  as  he 
considered  what  sin  had  made  the  hu- 
man heart,  so  hard  that  even  miracles 
would  not  soften  it,  nor  produce  in  it 
love  towards  a  heavenly  benefactor! 
Indeed,  indeed,  if  there  were  such  an 
exhibition  of  insensibility  and  ingrati- 
tude present  to  his  mind,  well  might 
he  sigh.  Ah,  men  and  brethren,  if  there 
can  be  sighs  in  heaven,  he  must  still 
sigh  as  he  '' poureth  his  benefits"  on 
every  one  amongst  us,  benefits  which 
are  too  often  received  as  mere  things 
of  course,  benefits  which,  if  not  miracu- 
lous, are  only  not  so  because  of  their 
frequency,  and  which,  alas,  fail  to  bind 
us  more  devotedly  to  his  service. 

Or,  if  the  Redeemer  did  not  know 
that  the  man,  whom  he  was  about  to 
heal,  Avould  join  himself  to  his  ene- 
mies ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  he  knew 
that  he  would  be  of  the  few  who  ac- 
knowledged him  as  the  Messiah;  still 
he  was  too  well  aware,  we  may  believe, 
of  the  dangerousness  of  the  faculties 
Avhich  his  word  would  bestow,  to  be- 
stow them  without  a  sigh.  It  was  lan- 
ffua^e,  of  which  the  man  was  hence- 
forward  to  be  master,  the  power  of 
speaking  and  of  being  spoken  with. 
And  Christ  could  not  give  this  but  with 
a  sigh.  He  knew  that  the  power  of 
speaking  was  especially  the  power  of 
sinning  ;  that  no  member  was  so  diffi- 
cult of  control,  and  so  liable  to  offend, 
as  the  tongue.  There  are  many  state- 
ments in  the  Bible,  in  regard  to  the 
importance  of  speech,  the  difficulty  of 
regulating  our  words,  and  the  danger 
of  sinning  with  our  lips.  But  I  know 
of  nothing  more  emphatic  and  expres- 
sive than  this  sigh  of  our  Lord,  when 
considered  as  indicating  that  what  he 
bestowed,  he  bestowed  with  apprehen- 
sion. As  with  the  tears  which  Christ 
wept  over  Jerusalem,  there  is  more  in 
this  sigh  than  in  lengthened  and  heart- 
touching  speech.  The  tongue  unloos- 
ed with  a  sigh,  the  sigh  of  him  who 
had  no  sin  to  sigh  for,  is  the  most 
affecting  of  all  testimonies  that  the 
tongue  cannot  be  used  without  peril. 
It  might  do  more  than  whole  sermons 
on  the  guilt  of  idle  words,  to  make  us 


watchful  in  keeping  ''  the  door  of  our 
lips,"  were  we  only  to  bear  in  mind 
this  sigh  of  the  Redeemer.  Oh,  when 
tempted  to  the  light  jest,  and,  yet  more, 
to  the  profane  allusion — when  incli- 
ned to  employ  on  what  is  frivolous, 
or  malicious,  or  impure,  that  high  fa- 
culty which  God  bestowed  that  we 
might  make  creation  vocal  with  his 
praise  5  then,  if  you  cannot  recollect 
any  elaborate  arguments  which  esta- 
blish the  special  sinfulness  of  sins  of 
the  tongue,  at  least  you  might  recall 
the  simple  narrative  before  us;  and  it 
might  tend  to  make  and  keep  you  fear- 
ful of  misusing  and  desecrating  the 
power  of  speech,  to  remember  that 
your  Savior  could  not  impart  this 
power,  without  betokening  his  con- 
sciousness how  perilous  it  was  :  "  He 
sighed,"  before  he  could  bring  him- 
self to  say  to  the  deaf  and  dumb  man, 
"Ephphatha,  that  is,  Be  opened." 

But  we  alluded,  in  an  early  part  of 
our  discourse,  to  the  parabolic  charac- 
ter which  seems  attached  to  the  mira- 
cles of  our  Lord  ;  and,  inclining  to  the 
belief  that  there  is  no  miracle  recorded 
in  the  New  Testament,  which  does  not 
serve  to  illustrate  certain  truths  in  the 
christian  dispensation,  we  are  reluctant 
to  leave  the  narrative  before  us  with- 
out glancing  at  its  typical  instruction. 
And  here  we  need  hardly  refer  to  the 
general  fact,  that  the  sicknesses  of  the 
soul  are  analogous  to  those  of  the  bo- 
dy; or  that  man,  considered  as  an  im- 
mortal being,  requires  healing  process- 
es, similar  to  those  required  by  the 
lame,  the  deaf,  and  the  blind.  It  can 
scarcely  be  called  a  figure  of  speech, 
when  we  describe  the  soul  of  a  man, 
not  yet  renewed  by  the  Spirit  of  God, 
as  deficient  in  the  powers  of  hearing, 
and  seeing,  and  speaking.  For  the 
soul  must  be  judged  relatively  to  that 
higher  world  of  which  she  was  origi- 
nally the  citizen,  and  her  possession  of 
faculties  must  be  determined  by  test- 
ing her  ability  for  the  employments 
and  enjoyments  of  the  scene  for  which 
she  was  designed.  But  who  can  dis- 
guise from  himself,  that,  in  spiritual 
things,  he  is  by  nature  as  deficient  in 
senses  and  organs,  as  he  would  be  in 
earthly,  if  unable  to  see,  to  walk,  to 
hear,  to  speak,  to  taste  %  The  unre- 
newed soul  has  no  eye  for  the  glories 
of  heaven,  no  feet  for  running  the  way 


PECULIARITIES    IH    THE    JIIHACLE    IN    THE    COASTS    OF    DECAPOLIS. 


525 


of  God's  commandments,  no  ear  for 
the  sweet  music  of  the  Gospel,  no 
voice  for  the  praises  of  Christ,  no  relish 
for  that  bread  which  is  "  for  the  life  of 
the  world."  And  forasmuch  as  it  is 
only  through  Christ,  in  his  office  of 
Mediator,  that  those  influences  are 
communicated  which  repair  the  de- 
cayed, or  impart  the  destroyed  facul- 
ties, we  may  justly  regard  our  bless- 
ed Savior,  whilst  working  miracles  on 
the  body,  as  both  teaching  what  was 
needful  for  the  soul,  and  representing 
himself  as  its  appointed  physician. 
Hence,  in  Christ's  unstopping  the  ears, 
and  loosening  the  tongue,  of  the  man 
that  was  brought  to  him  as  he  passed 
through  Decapolis,  every  one  may  find 
the  outlines  of  a  symbolical  lesson,  as 
to  the  necessity  for  a  divine  operation 
on  our  spiritual  organs,  ere  the  tidings 
of  redemption  can  penetrate  the  soul, 
and  the  utterances  of  thanksgiving  be 
heard  in  return. 

But  more  may  have  been  represent- 
ed than  this  general  fact.  The  man 
does  not  seem  to  have  come  of  him- 
self; and  there  is  no  evidence  what- 
soever that  he  had  faith  in  Christ's 
power  to  heal.  Indeed,  as  we  have 
endeavored  to  show  you,  Christ  took 
pains  to  fix  attention  on  himself  as  the 
worker  of  the  miracle,  as  though  to 
provide  for  faith  following,  if  it  did 
not  precede  the  cure.  The  friends  or 
relatives  of  the  deaf  and  dumb  man 
had  faith  in  our  Lord  ;  this  faith  moved 
them  to  solicit  a  miracle,  and  was  re- 
compensed by  its  being  wrought.  And 
there  is  great  encouragement  in  eve- 
ry such  record  of  blessings  procured 
throuofh   the    intercession  of  friends. 

a 

When  I  read  of  parents  or  relations 
leading  the  dumb  to  Jesus,  and  solicit- 
ing, in  his  name,  what  he  could  not  so- 
licit for  himself,  I  gain  assurance  that 
parents  or  relations  may  bring  chil- 
dren to  the  regenerating  waters  of  bap- 
tism, and  entreat  on  their  behalf  those 
gifts  of  the  Spirit,  which  they  are  yet 
too  young  to  entreat  for  themselves.  I 
thank  God  for  the  record  of  miracles, 
in  whose  subjects  there  was  faith  ;  I 
thank  him  still  more  for  the  record, 
when  the  faith  was  not  found  in  the 
party  that  was  healed,  but  in  the  party 
who  conducted  the  diseased  person 
to  Christ.  Oh,  we  may  do  much  for 
those  whom  we  love,  whilst  they  are 


unable,  or  even  whilst  unwilling,  to  do 
any  thing  for  themselves.  We  may 
bring  them  to  Christ ;  we  may  entreat 
Christ  to  heal  them  ;  and  such  narra- 
tives as  that  which  has  been  under  re- 
view, warrant  the  hope,  yea,  even  the 
expectation,  that,  if  we  ask  in  faith, 
the  Redeemer  will  put  forth  his  mira- 
culous power. 

But  there  is  yet  another  significative 
fact  which  ought  not  to  be  overlooked. 
Our  Lord  led  the  afflicted  man  aside 
from  the  multitude  :  did  he  not  there- 
by tell  them,  who  may  be  visited  with 
any  desire  for  spiritual  cure,  that  it  is 
not  in  the  throng  and  bustle  of  the 
world  that  they  may  expect  the  renew- 
al of  their  senses  and  powers'?  that 
they  should  separate  themselves  from 
distracting  associations,  seeing  that  it 
is  in  privacy  and  retirement  that  he  is 
ordinarily  pleased  to  work  a  moral  mi- 
racle, and  reproduce  in  the  soul  the 
lost  image  of  Godi  He  can  heal  you 
any  where  :  he  can  unstop  the  ear  and 
loosen  the  tongue  whilst  you  are  in 
the  hurry  of  the  crowd,  or  when  you 
have  sought  the  secrecy  of  the  closet. 
But  he  loves  the  solitude  :  if  you  wish 
him  to  work  a  miracle,  prove  that 
you  wish  it  by  going  aside  from  the 
multitude,  detaching  yourselves  from 
a  world  that  ''  lieth  in  wickedness," 
breaking  away  from  the  company  of 
his  enemies — and  then  may  you  hope 
that  he  will  meet  you,  and  say  unto 
you,  with  as  much  of  power  as  of 
graciousness,  "  Ephphatha,  that  is,  Be 
opened." 

Will  he  say  it  with  a  sighl    Indeed, 
so  great  is  the  corruption  of  our  na- 
ture, and  so  vast  the  disorganization 
around  us,  that  the  portion  of  a  renew- 
ed  man  has  often  to  be  described  in 
the  Avords  of  St.  Paul :  "  Without  were 
fightings,  within  were  fears."   To  con- 
vert, is  to  consign  to  a  hard  conflict 
with  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  de- 
vil. And  Christ  might  sigh  in  speaking 
the  word  v/hich  gives  spiritual  health, 
remembering  that  he  quickens  men   to 
i  the  painful  and  perilous  task  of  crucify- 
ing themselves,  of  offering  themselves 
j  "  a  living  sacrifice  "  unto  God. 
I      But  if  "  heaviness  may  endure  for  a 
j  night,"  "joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 
The  victory  is  sure  with  Christ  for  a 
leader,  though  the  contest  be  severe. 
I  And  if  it  be  with  a  sigh  that  he  pro- 


526 


THE    LATTER   RAIN. 


nounces  the  Ephphatha  now — with  a  i  ces  the  Ephphatha  hereafter,  saying  to 


sigh,  because  to  be  a  believer  is  to  be 
persecuted  and  afflicted,  at  war  with 
the  world,  at  war  with  one's  self — it 
shall  be  with  a  smile  that  he  pronoun- 


the  everlasting  doors,  "  Be  ye  opened," 
that  my  people  may  enter  my  kingdom  : 
"  There  the  wicked  cease  from  trou- 
bling, and  there  the  weary  be  at  rest." 


SERMON    XI 


THE    LATTER    RAIN. 


'A»k  ye  of  the  Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter  rain :  so  the  Lord  shall  make  bright  clouds,  and  give 
them  showers  of  rain,  to  evei-y  one  grass  in  the  field." — Zechariah,  10:  1. 


It  is  not  necessary  that  we  inquire 
whether,  as  originally  delivered,  these 
words  included  spiritual  blessings  or 
were  limited  to  temporal.  The  former 
are  so  frequently  illustrated  or  shadow- 
ed out  in  Scripture  by  the  latter,  that 
we  may  safely  treat  the  passage  as  a 
direction  and  a  promise  which  have  to 
do  generally  with  prayer,  and  particu- 
larly with  prayer  for  the  communica- 
tion of  divine  grace.  In  order,  how- 
ever, to  the  right  understanding  of 
the  words,  you  are  to  observe  that 
there  were  two  seasons  of  the  year 
at  which  rain  was  peculiarly  needed 
and  looked  for  in  Judea.  The  one  was 
in  autumn,  at  the  seed-time  ;  the  other 
was  in  the  spring,  when  the  corn  had 
to  be  brought  to  an  ear  and  filled.  The 
rain  which  fell  at  the  one,  is  spoken  of 
in  Scripture  as  "the  former  rain  ;"  that 
at  the  other,  as  "  the  latter  ;"  and  you 
find  the  two  mentioned  together  when 
God  would  covenant  to  do  great  things 
for  his  land.  Thus,  in  the  Book  of  Deu- 
teronomy, "  If  ye  shall  hearken  dili- 
gently unto  my  commandments,  which 
I  command  you  this  day,  I  will  give 
you  the  rain  of  your  land  in  his  due 
season,  the  first  rain  and  the  latter 
rain."  Thus  again,  in  the  prophecy  of 
Jeremiah,  ''  Neither  say  they  in  their 


heart.  Let  us  now  fear  the  Lord  our 
God,  that  giveth  rain,  both  the  former 
and  the  latter  in  his  season;  he  re- 
serveth  unto  us  the  appointed  weeks 
of  harvest."  And  once  more,  in  Hosea, 
''  Then  shall  we  know,  if  we  follow  on 
to  know  the  Lord :  his  going  forth  is 
prepared  as  the  morning ;  and  he  shall 
come  unto  us  as  the  rain,'  as  the  latter 
and  former  rain  unto  the  earth." 

But  the  "  latter  rain"  is  often  mention 
ed  by  itself,  as  though  specially  need- 
ed to  the  making  available  the  labors 
of  the  husbandman.  Thus  you  read  in 
the  Book  of  Job  ;  "  They  waited  for 
me  as  for  the  rain,  and  they  opened 
their  mouth  wide  as  for  the  latter 
rain."  And  Solomon  says,  in  the  Book 
of  Proverbs,  "  In  the  light  of  the  king's 
countenance  is  life  ;  and  his  favor  is  as 
a  cloud  of  the  latter  rain."  Jeremiah, 
also,  when  describing  the  utter  desola- 
tion brought  by  sin  upon  the  land,  ex- 
claims;  ''  Therefore  the  showers  have 
been  withholden,  and  there  hath  been 
no  latter  rain."  The  want  of  this  lat- 
ter rain  would  evidently  be  peculiarly 
distressing ;  it  might  not  do  more  to- 
wards causing  famine  than  the  want  of 
the  former;  but,  occurring  at  a  time 
when  the  husbandman  had  fully  done 
his  part,  and  was  expecting  to  reap  the 


THE    LATTER    KAIN. 


527 


fruit  of  his  labors,  the  horrors  of  dearth 
would  be  aggravated  through  the  bit- 
terness of  disappointment;  and  there 
would,  moreover,  be  less  opportuni- 
ty of  providing  sustenance  from  other 
quarters  than  if  "  the  former"  rain  had 
failed,  and  thus  long  notice  had  been 
given  of  an  insufficient  harvest. 

We  may  find,  as  we  proceed  with 
our  discourse,  that,  in  applying  the 
text  to  spiritual  things,  great  atten- 
tion should  be  given  to  this  mention  of 
"the  latter  rain"  rather  than  of  "the 
former."  At  present  it  is  sufficient  to 
have  pointed  out  to  you  the  times  at 
which  rain  ordinarily  fell  in  Judea : 
you  will  hence  be  aware  of  the  import- 
ance of  the  blessing  for  which  the  peo- 
ple are  directed  to  ask.  We  will  now, 
without  further  preface,  enter  on  the 
consideration  of  several  great  truths 
which  appear  derivable  from  the  pas- 
sage, when  taken,  in  its  largest  sense, 
as  a  direction  to  prayer.  We  will  not 
attempt,  beforehand,  to  specify  these 
truths,  but  rather  leave  them  to  open 
successively  as  we  prosecute  our  ex- 
amination. Let  us  only  ask  rain  of  the 
Lord,  let  us  only  entreat  the  aids  and 
teachings  of  his  Spirit,  without  which 
we  may  not  hope  to  enter  thoroughly 
into  the  meaning  of  Scripture,  and  it 
may,  indeed,  be  for  our  profit  that  we 
study  the  direction,  "  Ask  ye  of  the 
Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter 
rain ;"  and  that  we  hearken  to  the 
promise,  "The  Lord  shall  make  bright 
clouds,  and  give  them  showers  of  rain, 
to  every  one  grass  in  the  field." 

Now  we  shall  begin  with  looking  at 
the  direction  as  having  to  do  literal- 
ly with  the  rain,  with  those  showers 
which  descend  in  due  season  to  wa- 
ter the  earth,  "that  it  may  give  seed 
to  the  sov/er  and  bread  to  the  eater." 
Alas,  how  difficult  is  it  to  keep  God  in 
mind  as  the  great  First  Cause,  when 
there  is  a  mechanism  of  second  causes 
through  which  he  is  pleased  to  conduct 
his  operations  and  communicate  bless- 
ings !  If  things  ordinarily  occur  in  a 
settled  course,  we  speedily  forget  that 
this  course  is,  after  all,  but  the  law 
which  God  is  pleased  to  prescribe  to 
himself,  to  be  followed  only  while  it 
shall  seem  good  to  his  infinite  wisdom, 
and  swerved  from  whensoever  he  shall 
think  fit  to  suspend  his  own  laws.  If, 
for  example,  there  be  a  time  of  the 


year  at  which  rain  is  accustomed  to 
fall,  how  readily  do  we  expect  rain  at 
that  time,  just  as  though  there  were  a 
certain  set  of  causes,  which,  working 
always,  and  with  unvarying  regularity, 
would  be  sure,  at  corresponding  sea- 
sons, to  produce  corresponding  results. 
Men  seem  practically  to  have  "but  little 
remembrance,  that  the  mainspring  of 
all  the  mechanism  is  in  the  hands  of 
an  invisible  Creator;  that  it  is  not 
from  what  goes  on  in  the  hidden  la- 
boratories of  what  they  call  nature  that 
season  succeeds  season,  and  shower 
and  sunshine  alternate  with  so  much 
of  beautiful  and  beneficent  order,  but 
that  the  whole  arrangement  is  mo- 
mentarily dependent  on  the  will  and 
energy  of  that  supreme  Being  who 
"  sitteth  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth, 
and  the  inhabitants  thereof  are  as 
grasshoppers."  It  is  needful,  we  might 
almost  say,  that  God  should  occa- 
sionally interrupt  the  ordinary  course 
of  things,  that  he  should  suspend 
the  laws  which  he  has  been  pleased 
to  impress  on  the  natural  v.'orld,  if 
only  that  he  may  keep  himself  from 
being  forgotten,  and  compel  some  re- 
cognition of  his  all-pervading  influ- 
ence from  those  Avho  actually  "live 
in  him,  and  move,  and  have  their 
being." 

But  whilst  there  is  this  knov/n  prone- 
ness  amongst  us  to  the  substituting  se- 
cond causes  for  the  first,  whilst  we  are 
confessedly  so  ready  to  look  to  the 
laws  and  the  mechanism  of  nature,  to 
do  for  us  what  can  be  done  only  by  the 
direct  and  immediate  agency  of  God, 
how  important,  how  instructive,  such 
an  injunction  as  this;  "Ask  ye  of  the 
Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter 
rain!"  You  are  to  lay  the  emphasis 
on  its  being  "the  time  of  the  latter 
rain,"  the  season,  that  is,  at  which 
rain  might  be  commonly  expected;  at 
which,  year  after  year,  it  had  been  ac- 
customed to  fall,  and  at  which,  there- 
fore, a  boastful,  or  rather  an  infidel 
philosophy,  might  have  argued  that  it 
would  continue  to  fall,  in  obedience  to 
fixed  and  immutable  laws.  If,  from 
some  cause  or  another,  there  should 
be  want  of  rain  at  seasons  when  it 
was  not  usually  wanted,  when  it  was 
not  the  time  for  either  "  the  former 
rain"  or  "the  latter,"  perhaps  this 
boastful  philosophy  itself  would  allow 


528 


THE    LATTER   KAIK. 


that  there  was  place  or  occasion  for 
prayer.  We  do  not,  indeed,  mean  that 
the  philosophy  would  necessarily  as- 
sent to  the  possible  usefulness  of  pray- 
er in  the  supposed  emergence  :  it  is  far 
more  likely  that  it  would  entrench  it- 
self within  its  maxims  as  to  the  fixed- 
ness of  nature's  laws,  and  the  conse- 
quent vanity  of  any  expectation  that 
these  laws  would  be  interfered  with  in 
order  to  the  naeeting  our  wishes  or 
wants.  But,  at  least,  philosophy  would 
here  confess,  that,  if  the  rain  fell  at 
all,  it  would  fall  not  through  the  work- 
ing of  mere  second  causes  ;  and  that, 
therefore,  though  prayer  must  be  prac- 
tically worthless,  as  pleading  against  a 
firmly-settled  ordinance,  it  was  still  so 
far  in  place  as  that  only  the  Being,  to 
whom  it  was  addressed,  had  power  to 
give  rain  at  so  unwonted  a  time.  If, 
however,  it  be  actually  ''the  time  of 
the  latter  rain,"  then  will  a  prayer  for 
rain  appear  to  this  philosophy  utterly 
unreasonable  or  preposterous,  as  if  we 
were  not  content  to  leave  natural  caus- 
es to  work  out  their  invariable  effects; 
or  as  if  we  wanted  to  make  a  parade  of 
the  power  and  efficacy  of  prayer,  and 
therefore  directed  it  to  a  boon  which 
we  knew  that  we  should  receive,  whe- 
ther we  asked  it  or  not. 

But  God,  on  the  contrary,  says; 
''Ask  ye  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter 
rain."  Oh,  what  a  lesson  to  us  that 
we  reckon  not,  so  to  speak,  on  the 
seasons  ;  that  we  presume  not  to  ex- 
pect any  good  merely  because  the 
time  is  come  round  at  which,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  his  dealings,  God 
has  been  used  to  bestow  that  good. 
A  blessing  may  have  been  long  and 
reo-ularly  communicated;  but  we  are 
not  to  count  on  the  regularity  of  the 
communication,  as  though  it  proved 
some  immutable  law,  which  must  con- 
tinue to  work  out  the  accustomed  re- 
sult :  it  may  be  "  the  time  of  the  lat- 
ter rain  ;"  the  experience  of  a  length- 
ened course  of  years  may  warrant  the 
expectation  of  rain  ;  and  the  clouds  on 
the  firmament  may  seem  big  with  the 
usual  supply — but  God  has  yet  to  is- 
sue his  command  ;  God  has  yet  to  un- 
seal the  fountain  ;  and  therefore  there 
is  still  place  for  prayer,  there  is  still 
need  for  prayer :  it  is  "  the  time  of 
the  latter  rain,"  but,  on  that  very 
account,  it  is  the    time   also    for  the 


asking  of  rain.  To  ask  it  at  another 
time  might  be  asking  a  miracle,  a  de- 
parture from  God's  ordinary  course, 
and  we  cannot  be  said  to  have  warrant 
for  that.  But  to  ask  it  at  this  time,  is 
to  ask  what  we  know  is  according  to 
God's  will ;  and  "  this,"  saith  St.  John, 
"  is  the  confidence  that  we  have  in 
him,  that  if  we  ask  any  thing  accor- 
ding to  his  will,  he  heareth  us." 

Beware,  then,  of  taking  for  granted 
that  mercies  will  continue  to  descend 
in  the  order,  and  at  the  times,  which 
may  have  long  been  observed :  there 
is  no  such  likely  way  of  stopping  the 
supply,  as  the  failing  to  recognize 
that  the  fountain  is  with  God.  God 
describes  himself  as  "  a  jealous  God  ;" 
and  it  must  move  him  to  jealousy, 
whensoever,  in  any  degree,  we  substi- 
tute his  instruments  for  himself,  or 
look  to  the  channel  as  if  it  were  the 
spring.  The  long  continuance  of  a 
mercy  at  a  particular  season  may  in- 
deed be  said  to  involve  a  kind  of  pro- 
mise— for  God  has  so  constituted  us 
that  we  naturally  expect  what  we  have 
often  experienced ;  and  a  divine  pro- 
mise is  not  only  that  which  is  regis- 
tered in  the  divine  word,  but  that  also 
which  is  conveyed  through  the  moral 
constitution  received  at  God's  hands. 
But  let  it  be  remembered  that  a  divine 
promise,  so  far  from  proving  it  unne- 
cessary that  we  ask,  should  itself  be 
our  ffreat  reason  for  asking.  God's 
promises  are  the  warrants  for  man's 
prayers.  What  God  has  promised, 
may  be  asked  for  in  the  perfect  confi- 
dence "  that  it  is  according  to  his 
will ;"  and  since  the  promises  are  con- 
ditional, their  fulfilment  being  made 
dependent  on  our  seeking,  or  inquiring 
for,  the  covenanted  blessings,  we  may 
not  only  be  encouraged  in  our  prayers 
by  God's  promises,  but  ought  in  no 
degree  to  reckon  on  promises,  except 
as  we  make  them  foundations  for  pray- 
ers. God  may  be  said  to  have  prom- 
ised rain  "  in  the  time  of  the  latter 
rain  :"  but  just  because  it  is  a  time  at 
which  rain  has  been  promised,  there- 
fore it  is  a  time  at  which  prayer 
should  be  made. 

And  so  with  every  mercy.  The  re- 
currence of  the  time  at  which  God 
has  been  used  to  bestow  it,  should  not 
make  you  expect  to  receive  it  again 
without  asking,  but  should  make  you 


THE    LATTER    RAIN. 


529 


ask  in  the  full  confidence  of  receiving. 
The  Sabbath,  for  example,  is  a  "  time 
of  the  latter  rain  :"  rain  is  then  used 
to  fall — God's  Spirit  descends  in  gra- 
cious showers  for  the  refreshment  of 
the  church.  The  time  of  the  admin- 
istration of  christian  ordinances  is  a 
"time  of  the  latter  rain,"  God  com- 
monly using  the  preaching  of  his  word 
and  the  dispensing  of  his  sacraments, 
to  the  conveyance  of  grace  to  his 
waiting  people.  But  because  these 
are  times  "  of  the  latter  rain,"  shall 
they  not  also  be  times  for  the  praying 
for  rain  1  Oh,  never  ought  your  pray- 
ers to  be  so  fervent  or  importunate. 
You  are,  as  it  were,  on  the  top  of  Car- 
mel ;  you  see  the  cloud  rising  out  of 
the  sea  ;  but  you  must  not  take  for 
granted  that  there  will  be  "abundance 
of  rain ;"  God  may  command  the  cloud 
back  into  the  sea,  yea,  he  may  be  ex- 
pected to  do  this,  if  you  do  not  wres- 
tle with  him  in  prayer.  Therefore, 
on  the  Sabbath  morn,  because  it  is  the 
Sabbath  morn,  the  morning  of  grace,  re- 
double your  prayers  for  grace  ;  on  sa- 
cramental opportunities,  because  they 
are  God's  chosen  occasions  of  impart- 
ing his  Spirit,  cry  more  earnestly  than 
ever  for  that  Spirit.  Think  not  that  the 
favorableness  of  the  season  can  make 
the  necessity  for  prayer  less,  whereas 
it  does  but  make  the  encouragement 
to  prayer  greater.  Substitute  not  the 
means  of  grace  for  grace,  as  though, 
when  the  former  were  vouchsafed,  the 
latter  w^ould  be  sure  to  follow ;  ah, 
there  may  be  the  clouds  and  not  the 
showers  ;  and,  therefore,  remember  ye 
the  precept  of  our  text,  and  "ask  ye 
of  the  Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the 
latter  rain." 

Now  we  have  thus  endeavored  to 
show  you  that  the  circumstance  of  its 
being  "  a  time  of  rain  " — whether  the 
natural  rain  or  the  spiritual — so  far 
from  furnishing  a  reason  why  we 
should  not  ask  for  rain,  is  itself  the 
great  argument  for  our  asking  ;  inas- 
much as  it  proves  that  we  have  God's 
promise  on  our  side,  and  the  promise  of 
God  is  always  the  warrant,  but  never 
the  substitute  for  the  prayer  of  man. 
But  all  that  has  preceded  would  have 
been  equally  appropriate,  had  "  the 
former  rain,"  not  "  the  latter,"  been 
specified  in  the  text:  we  have  simply 
spoken  of  the  time  as  being  "  a  time 


of  rain  ;"  a  time  at  which  it  is  God's 
ordinary  course  to  communicate  a 
blessing ;  and  we  have  warned  you 
against  expecting  that  blessing,  with- 
out asking  for  it ;  we  have  endeavored 
to  prove  to  you,  that  your  reason  for 
expecting  should  be  your  reason  also 
for  asking. 

Let  us  not,  however,  pass  without 
comment  the  mention  of  "  the  latter 
rain  :"  when  the  reference  of  the  pro- 
phet is  supposed  to  be  to  spiritual  rain, 
there  are  special  truths  to  be  gathered 
from  his  speaking  of  "the  latter  rain" 
rather  than  of  "  the  former."  We  have 
explained  to  you  that  "  the  latter  rain" 
was  that  which  fell  in  the  spring,  and 
which  was  instrumental  to  the  bring- 
ing the  corn  into  the  ear,  and  filling  it; 
so  that,  if  this  rain  failed,  the  husband- 
man would  be  disappointed  of  his  har- 
vest, notwithstanding  all  his  previous 
industry,  skill,  and  anxiety.  He  w^as 
indeed  dependent  also  on  "  the  former 
rain,"  that  Avhich  fell  at  the  seed-time  ; 
for  the  grain  would  not  germinate,  and 
send  up  the  tender  shoot,  unless  the 
ground  were  watered  by  the  fertilizing 
showers.  But  there  would  be  a  yet 
more  bitter  disappointment,  for  there 
w^ould  be  the  utter  loss  of  much  labor, 
the  fruitless  expenditure  of  much  ef- 
fort and  hope,  if  "  the  latter  rain"  were 
withheld;  and,  consequently,  there  was 
even  greater  reason  for  his  asking  rain, 
in  "  the  time  of  the  latter  rain"  than  in 
that  of  "  the  former  :"  if  "  the  former 
rain"  were  withheld,  he  might  make 
some  other  use  of  his  capital  and  en- 
terprise ;  but  if  "  the  latter,"  his  disas- 
ter scarce  admitted  of  repair. 

Now  without  endeavoring  to  trace 
too  narrowly  the  parallel  to  this  in 
spiritual  things,  we  may  safely  say  that 
there  is  something  very  affecting  and 
admonitory  in  the  mention  of  "  the  lat- 
tet^^ain."  It  is  the  rain  needed  for  fill- 
ing the  ear,  and  fitting  it  for  the  sickle. 
Take  it  metaphorically,  and  it  is  the 
grace  needed  for  ripening  the  believer, 
and  fitting  him  for  heaven.  The  former 
rain  may  be  considered  that  which  fell 
upon  him  at  his  baptism,  or,  perhaps 
more  accurately,  at  his  conversion, 
when  he  set  himself,  according  to  the 
directions  of  the  prophet,  to  "  break 
up  his  fallow  ground,  and  sow  to  him- 
self in  righteousness."  And  he  has 
been  enabled,  through  the  continued 
67 


530 


THE    LATTER    KAIX. 


influences  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  to  bring 
forth  "  first  the  blade,  and  then  the  ear," 
advancing  in  the  christian  life,  and 
adorning  the  doctrine  of  the  Savior.  But 
oh,  there  is  now  a  danger  of  his  falling 
into  security,  of  his  reckoning  too  con- 
fidently on  the  harvest,  of  his  conclu- 
ding that  God  will  certainly  complete 
a  work  so  auspiciously  begun,  so  hap- 
pily carried  on,  and  that  he  himself  can 
have  nothing  to  do  but  leave  God  to 
"perfect  that  which  concerneth"  him. 
True,  indeed,  it  is  God  alone  who  can 
complete  what  God  alone  commenced  ; 
and  true  also  it  is,  that  God  is  not  will- 
ing to  leave  his  work  unfinished.  But 
he  may  withhold  "  the  latter  rain,"  af- 
ter having  given  "  the  former,"  if  he 
see  the  husbandman  presuming  on  a 
promise,  in  place  of  persevering  in 
prayer.  He  does  not  leave  the  husband- 
man to  ripen  the  corn,  just  as  he  did 
not  require  of  him  to  make  the  seed 
shoot ;  for  there  is  not  a  single  stage 
in  the  great  process  of  spiritual  renew- 
al, at  which  it  is  ought  else  but  God's 
grace,  which,  acting  on  the  heart, 
brings  out  features  of  the  image  which 
sin  fearfully  defaced.  But  whilst  it  is 
not  with  the  husbandman,  but  with  God, 
to  ripen  the  corn,  God  may  make  his 
ripening  it  depend  on  the  exercise  of 
faith,  and  the  importunity  of  prayer. 
He  may  give  "  the  latter  rain,"  if  the 
husbandman,  conscious  of  his  depen- 
dence upon  God  for  the  harvest,  con- 
tinue meekly  to  supplicate  the  neces- 
sary showers  :  he  may  withhold  that 
rain,  if  the  husbandman,  calculating  on 
the  ordinary  course  of  his  dealings, 
grow  remiss  in  petitioning,  and  give 
up  his  fields  to  the  presumed  certain- 
ties of  the  season. 

There  is  no  point  in  the  life  of  a 
christian,  at  which  he  can  do  without 
the  supply  of  God's  grace ;  none  at 
which  he  can  expect  the  supply,  if  he 
be  not  cultivating  the  spirit  and  habit 
«)f  prayer.  It  is  not  the  mere  circum- 
>  tance  of  his  having'long  followed  the 
narrow  path  of  life,  which  can  be  taken 
in  proof  that  he  will  follow  it  to  the 
end.  If  he  have  hitherto  walked  with 
God,  it  has  been  through  his  having 
sought  and  obtained  such  communica- 
tions of  the  Divine  Spirit,  as  have  ena- 
bled him  to  maintain  his  separation  from 
a  world  lying  in  wickedness.  And  if 
he  is  to  persevere  in  walking  with  God, 


it  must  be  tlirough  perseverance  in 
these  acts  of  faith  and  of  prayer:  if  he 
think  himself  sure  to  go  on,  because 
he  supposes  that  he  has  acquired  a  cer- 
tain velocity  which  will  suflice,  with- 
out further  eflbrt,  to  carry  him  to  the 
end,  alas,  he  shows  only  that,  even  in 
advancing,  he  has  failed  to  observe  by 
what  his  progress  was  caused.  That 
progress  can  never  be  such  that  he 
may  dispense  with  the  assistance,  with- 
out which  he  could  not  have  made  a 
successful  beginning.  There  was  "  the 
former  rain,"  else  there  could  not  have 
been  even  the  green  blade  ;  there  must 
be  also  ''the  latter  rain,"  else  will  he 
"bring  no  fruit  to  perfection."  But  it 
is  the  same  thing,  it  is  rain,  which  is 
needed  at  both  times,  or  for  both  ends : 
there  is  no  change  in  the  instrumen- 
tality; he  could  not  have  begun  with- 
out Divine  grace,  and  Divine  grace 
alone  can  give  completeness  to  the 
work. 

This  is  among  the  simplest,  the  most 
elementary  of  doctrines;  and  yet  it  is 
one  of  which  the  believer  requires  to 
be  often  and  earnestly  reminded.  When 
a  man  begins  in  religion,  his  convic- 
tion of  sin,  and  his  sense  of  danger, 
conspire  to  the  urging  him  to  cry  unto 
God  for  assistance  and  guidance.  But 
when  he  has  made  some  way,  there  is 
fear  of  his  forgetting  the  agency  to 
which  alone  he  is  indebted  for  pro- 
j  gress.  Or,  if  he  do  not  forget  the  agen- 
cy, he  comes  to  expect  it  as  a  matter 
I  of  course — as  the  husbandman  the  rain 
'  at  the  accustomed  seasons — and  he 
grows  more  remiss  in  pi*ayer  for  God's 
Spirit,  even  whilst  relying  on  the  aids 
of  that  Spirit.  Beware  of  this,  ye  who 
are  growing  old  in  a  christian  profes- 
sion. Ye  are  not  secure  of  having  more 
of  God's  Spirit,  merely  because  ye  have 
already  had  much.  Ye  must  not  slack- 
en in  prayer  for  that  Spirit,  because  it 
is  only  "  the  latter  rain"  which  is  now 
needed,  and  you  may  think  that  God 
will  be  sure  to  ripen  what  he  has  so 
long  been  cultivating.  Rather  think  with 
yourselves,  how  grievous  would  it  be 
that  the  harvest  should  be  one  of  shame, 
when  the  seedtime  has  been  one  of  pro- 
mise! How  sad  to  miss  "the  latter  rain," 
after  having  had  "  the  former,"  and  thus 
lose  the  labor  of  years,  when  on  the 
point,  it  may  be,  of  gathering  in  the 
sheaves!  Oh,  pray  the  more  earnest!} , 


THE    LATTER    ^Aiy. 


531 


strive  the  more  intensely,  the  nearer 
you  stand  to  the  termination  of  your 
course.  I  would  say  to  the  believer, 
even  on  his  death-bed,  a  g-ood  hope,  a 
scriptural  hope,  is  that  which  express- 
es itself  in  cries  for  God's  grace.  Till 
you  are  with  God  in  heaven,  no  lan- 
guage can  be  so  appropriate  as  that 
which  entreats  that  God  would  be  with 
you  on  earth.  It  is  indeed  "  the  time 
of  the  latter  rain  ;"  and  those  dense 
clouds,  which  are  the  heraldry  of  dis- 
solution, are  commonly  charged  with 
showers  of  consolation  ;  for  God  may 
be  expected  to  be  doubly  with  his  peo- 
ple, as  they  pass  "thi'ough  the  valley 
of  the  shadov/  of  death.".  But  God 
will  still  be  "  inquired  of"  for  what  he 
stands  ready  to  bestow;  and  the  best 
confidence  for  the  dying,  as  the  best 
for  the  living,  is  confidence  in  prayer 
as  laying  hold  on  a  promise.  Be  it  tb.en 
"the  time  of  the  latter  rain" — "the 
latter  rain,"  because  but  few  more 
showers  can  be  needed:  "the  time" 
of  that  rain,  because,  in  his  ordinary 
course,  God  is  then  wont  to  give  large- 
ly of  his  grace — on  neither  account 
slacken  in  prayer ;  rather,  on  both  ac- 
counts, be  fervent  in  prayer.  There  is 
tFie  better  reason  for  expecting  an  an- 
swer to  prayer,  but  none  for  supposing 
that  prayer  is  no  longer  needed  :  he 
nlone  can  safely  have  done  with  offer- 
ing prayer  for  grace,  who  has  begun 
the  anthem  of  praise  in  glory ;  and, 
therefore,  "Be  not  weary  in  well-do- 
ing," but  "  ask  ye  of  the  Lord  rain  in 
the  time  of  the  latter  rain." 

But  now  let  us  consider  whether 
"  the  time  of  the  latter  rain"  may  not 
be  a  season  in  the  history  of  the  church, 
and  whether,  when  so  understood,  there 
is  not  a  great  and  neglected  duty  en- 
joined by  the  text.  It  is  certainly  to  be 
gathered  from  the  tenor  of  Scripture, 
that,  as  "the  time  of  the  end"  ap- 
proaches, that  time  on  which  prophecy 
has  thrown  its  most  emphatic  descrip- 
tions, there  will  be  a  special  outpour- 
ing of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Even  the  pre- 
diction of  Joel,  which  St.  Peter  quotes 
as  having  had  reference  to  the  descent 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  Pentecost,  would 
seem  to  be  still  waiting  an  ampler  ac- 
complishment; for  the  prophet  asso- 
ciates the  promised  gift  of  the  Spirit 
with  the  coming  of  "  the  great  and  ter- 
rible day  of  the  Lord,"  and  thus  pre- 


pares us  for  not  expecting  that  gift  in 
all  its  largeness,  until  the  time  shall  be 
at  hand  when  Christ  is  to  reappear,  and 
set  up  visibly  his  throne  on  the  wreck 
of  all    earthly  dominion.    But,   at    all 
events,  there    is   no   dispute   that  the 
prophecy  refers  generally  to  the  chris- 
tian dispensation,  and  that  it  assigns, 
as  one  of  the  privileges  of  that  dispen- 
sation, a  larger  measure  of  spiritual  in- 
fluence.   When  St.  Peter  adduces  tij<; 
prediction  as  that  which  was  to  "  come 
to  pass  in  the  last  days,"  he  undoubt- 
edly applies  it  to  the  days  in  which  we 
live,  as  well  as  to  those   in  which   he 
spake :  these   must  be  amongst  "  the 
last  days,"  whatever  the  view  taken  of 
the  prophetic  chronology  ;  and  there- 
fore are  they  days  to  which  the  great 
promise  belongs,  "  I  v/ill  pour  out  of 
j  my  Spirit  upon  all  flesh." 
I      Hence  the  present  time  is  "  the  time 
j  of  the  latter  rain  :"   the  time  of  "  the 
former  rain  "was  that  of  earlier  and 
I  preparatory  dispensations,    when    the 
I  world    was   being  made    ready  for   a 
fuller    revelation ;    but   now   that  the 
!  Holy  Ghost   has  entered  specially  on 
the  office  of  guide  and  instructor  to 
the  church,  it  is  the  time  of  "  the  lat- 
ter rain."  There  is  to  be  no  higher  ev- 
idence of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  no 
opening  of  more  direct  intercourse  be- 
tween  earth   and   heaven  :  we   are  in 
the  enjoyment  of  those  final  advanta- 
ges for  securing  happiness  beyond  the 
grave,  which  were  longed  for,  but  in 
vain,  by  them  on  whom  only  "  the  for- 
mer  rain"    fell;    many    prophets    and 
kings  having  desired  to  see  the  things 
which   we    see,  and  not  having  seen 
them,  and  to  hear  the  things  which  we 
hear,  and  not  having  heard  them.   But 
though  it  is  thus  "  the  time  of  the  lat- 
ter rain,"  because,  generally,  that  time 
must  include  the  whole   christian  dis- 
pensation, and  because  perhaps,  in  a 
stricter    sense,    it   must    comprehend 
such  days  as  our   own,  which  are  not 
without  signs  of  fhe  second  coming  of 
Christ,    yet   it    does   not    follow   that 
"  the  latter  rain"  will  fall;  as  though 
the  heavens  must  be   opened,  merely 
because  it  is  the  season  for  the  show- 
ers.   Our  blessed  Savior,  when  deliv- 
ering counsels  which  were  undoubted- 
ly to  serve  for  the   instruction  of  the 
church  to  "  the  time  of  the  end,"  spake 
thus  in  regard  of  the  Spirit :  "  If  ye 


532 


THE    LATTER    RAIN. 


then,  being  evil,  know  how  to  give 
o-ood  gifts  unto  your  children,  how 
much  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father 
give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  asic 
him."  The  dispensation,  which  he  was 
introducing,  was  to  be  emphatically 
the  dispensation  of  the  Spirit ;  the  dis- 
pensation throughout  which  the  Spi- 
rit was  to  "  abide  "  as  "  a  Comforter" 
with  the  church  ;  and  yet,  you  see, 
the  asking  for  that  Spirit  is  still  made 
the  condition  on  which  it  should  be 
given. 

It  is  the  same  as  with  prophecies 
of  the  restoration  of  Israel,  and  with 
promises  of  gladness  and  peace  to  the 
long  exiled  people.  Nowhere  do  you 
find  these  prophecies  and  promises 
more  copiously  uttered  than  in  the 
thirty-sixth  chapter  of  the  book  of 
Ezekiel — but  then,  observe  how  this 
chapter  concludes,  "  Thus  saith  the 
Lord  God,  I  will  yet  for  this  be  inqui- 
red of  by  the  house  of^Israel,  to  do  it 
for  them."  God  had  just  declared  that 
he  would  do  this  and  that  thing  ;  he 
had  made  no  conditions,  but  spoken  as 
of  a  fixed,  irreversible,  purpose;  and 
nevertheless,  as  if  to  remind  us  of  a 
condition,  which  is  always  involved,  if 
not  always  expressed,  where  a  Divine 
promise  is  passed,  he  adds  that  he  must 
yet  be  "inquired  of  by  the  house  of 
Israel,"  in  order  to  his  accomplishing 
what  he  had  announced. 

Thus  also  with  regard  to  the  pro- 
gress of  Messiah's  kingdom,  the  march 
of  Christianity  towards  universal  do- 
minion. God  hath  promised  great 
things.  He  hath  not  intended  that  the 
vast  blessings  of  redemption  should, 
even  in  appearance,  remain  limited  to 
certain  sections  of  the  family  of  man. 
Though,  for  wise  ends,  he  hath  per- 
mitted a  long  struggle  between  dark- 
ness and  light,  he  has  decreed  the  ter- 
mination of  that  struggle,  having  given 
assurance  of  a  time  when  all  shall  know 
him  "  from  the  least  unto  the  great- 
est," when  "  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world"  shall  become  "  the  kingdoms 
of  the  Lord  and  his  Christ."  But  he 
will  yet  be  "inquired  of"  for  these 
things,  to  do  them  for  us.  He  requires 
of  us  that  we  exert  ourselves  for  the 
spread  of  Christianity  ;  and  he  requires 
that  we  entreat  of  him  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  gracious  declarations. 
Have  we  not   failed   in  both  particu- 


lars 1  and  perhaps  even  more  egregi- 
ously  in  the  latter  than  in  the  former  1 
Without  pausing  to  examine  what  pro- 
portion our  efforts  have  borne  to  our 
means,  whether  we  have,  in  any  due 
measure,  employed  our  resources  on 
the  arduous,  but  glorious,  work  of 
making  Christ  known  to  the  heathen, 
let  us  inquire  as  to  the  frequency  and 
intenseness  of  our  prayers  for  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  shall 
we  not  find  but  too  much  cause  to  con- 
fess that  we  have  verily  been  remiss  in 
a  duty,  which  is  second  to  none  in  ur- 
gency, and  to  none  in  hopefulness '? 
The  prosperity  of  the  church  at  home, 
the  progress  of  our  holy  religion  a- 
broad,  these  are  not  so  much  depend- 
ent on  any  external  machinery,  as  on 
the  quickening,  renewing, and  strength- 
ening influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
"  Not  by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by 
my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

And  these  influences  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  are  promised  in  answer  to  prayer. 
But  do  we  often  make  them  the  subject 
of  prayer^  Do  we  in  our  closets,  do 
we  in  our  families,  cry  much  unto  God 
that  he  would  fulfil  his  promises  in  the 
bestowment  of  his  Spirit  1  I  do  be- 
lieve, without  indulging  in  exaggera- 
ted speech,  that  we  have  in  our  pos- 
session the  means  of  overthrowing  the 
idolatries  of  the  world,  and  erecting 
the  Sanctuary  of  God  on  the  wreck  of 
the  temples  of  heathenism.  But  I  do 
not  believe  this,  because  of  the  magni- 
ficent, the  unequalled,  resources  which 
God,  in  his  providence,  has  given  into 
our  keeping.  1  do  not  believe  this, 
because  it  may  almost  be  said  of  our 
colonies,  that  they  are  planted  on  eve- 
ry land,  and  of  our  fleets,  that  they 
cover  every  sea.  Perish  the  boastful 
computations  which,  after  drawing  out 
our  political  and  commercial  ascend- 
ancy, would  infer  that  we  must  be 
competent  to  the  covering  the  earth 
with  the  knowledge  of  Christ.  But  I 
believe  this,  because  I  believe  in  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  renew  the 
face  of  the  world,  and  in  the  power  of 
prayer  to  obtain  the  operations  of  that 
divine  agent.  I  believe  this,  because 
I  believe  that  there  is  a  goodly  com- 
pany in  our  land  who  pray  the  prayer 
of  faith,  and  who  have,  therefore,  only 
to  be  diligent  in  asking  "  of  the  Lord 
rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter  rain,"  to 


THE    LATTER    RAIN. 


533 


insure  the  descent  of  showers  which 
shall  cause  the  waste  places  to  rejoice, 
and  "  blossom  as  the  rose."  But  if  the 
faithful  pray  not  for  the  rain,  it  will  be 
nothing,  as  heretofore  it  has  done  little 
towards  evangelizing  the  globe,  that 
we  have  national  resources  for  the  pro- 
pagation of  truth,  such  as  were  never 
yet  committed  to  any  people  under 
heaven.  Some  inconsiderable  province, 
some  state  undistinguished  in  the  scale 
of  nations,  unendowed,  to  all  appear- 
ance, with  means  for  high  enterprise, 
may  yet  take  the  lead  in  the  honored 
work  of  subduing  the  kingdoms  to 
the  Lord  our  Redeemer,  because  it 
will  take  the  lead  in  the  undoubted  du- 
ty of  beseeching  of  God  to  pour  out 
his  Spirit.  Let  us  remember  and  be 
warned  by  this.  Let  each  consider, 
and  examine,  whether  he  may  not  have 
verily  been  guilty  herein,  perhaps  ne- 
ver praying,  or  praying  but  listlessly 
and  formally,  for  the  promised  descent 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Our  lot  is  cast  in 
the  last  days,  in  ''  the  time  of  the  lat- 
ter rain."  We  are  not  without  our 
signs,  in  the  march  of  events,  in  the 
aspect  of  society,  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  prophecy,  that  "  the  coming 
of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh."  Now  then 
is  the  time  for  earnest,  united,  impor- 
tunate prayer  for  the  Spirit  of  God. 
Wonders  may  be  accomplished  ;  a  na- 
tion may  be  "born  in  a  day;"  "the 
ends  of  the  earth  may  see  the  salvation 
of  the  Lord  ,"  0  "  ye  that  make  men- 
tion of  the  Lord,  keep  not  silence,  and 
give  him  no  rest ;"  "  ask  ye  of  the 
Lord  rain  in  the  time  of  the  latter 
rain ;"  and  "  the  Lord  shall  make  bright 
clouds,  and  give  showers  of  rain,  to 
every  one  grass  in  the  field." 

There  is  something  very  beautiful 
in  the  terms  of  this  promise;  but  we 
have  time  only  for  a  hasty  notice.  The 
"  bright  clouds,"  or,  as  the  marginal 
reading  has  it,  "  lightnings,"  are  the 
harbingers,  or  forerunners,  of  the  rain; 
and  God,  you  see,  declares  that  he  will 
make  these,  before  he  sends  the  show- 
ers. Thus  he  exercises  faith  ;  he  does 
not  immediately  answer  the  prayer,  but 
requires  his  people  still  to  "wait"  on 
him  ;  he  will  "  make  bright  clouds  "  for 
their  encouragement,  but  they  must 
persevere  in  supplication  if  they  would 
have  showers  for  their  refreshment. 
Ay,  and  to  them  that  "  wait  upon  the 


Lord,"  there  may  be  clouds,  but  are 
they  not  "bright  clouds'?"  the  stripes 
of  light  are  painted  on  their  darkness ; 
the  murkiest  cloud  which  can  rise  on 
the  firmament  of  the  believer  has  a 
gilded  side  :  "  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness "  shines  on  it ;  and  so  truly  is  the 
time  of  tears  the  time  also  of  "  the  lat- 
ter rain,"  that,  if  these  "bright  clouds" 
betoken  a  season  of  affliction,  they  are 
quickly  followed  by  communications  of 
grace.  God  may  bring  the  cloud  over 
his  people,  and,  as  Elihu  saith,  "Men 
see  not  the  bright  light  which  is  in  the 
clouds;"  but  if  the  world  see  it  not, 
the  believer  may;  and  God  brings  the 
cloud,  that  its  brightness  being  ac- 
knowledged, in  and  through  the  ac- 
knowledgment of  his  doing  all  things 
well,  he  may  then  send  "a  gracious 
rain  on  his  inheritance,  and  refresh  it 
when  it  is  weary." 

And  the  showers  which  God  sends 
are  for  the  clothing  with  richer  ver- 
dure his  garden,  which  is  the  church. 
"  To  every  one  grass  in  the  field." 
We  may  receive  the  Spirit ;  but  we  do 
but  grieve,  we  do  but  quench  it,  if  its 
influence  be  not  visible  on  our  walk 
and  conversation.  If  there  be  not  more 
and  brighter  grass  in  the  field,  we  de- 
ceive ourselves  if  we  think  that  there 
can  be  more  of  saving  grace  in  the 
heart. 

But  how  large  is  the  promise — "To 
every  one  grass  in  the  field."  Here  is 
evidence  that  "the  time  of  the  latter 
rain"  is  especially  that  "time  of  the 
end,"  when  falsehood  is  at  length  to 
give  way  before  truth,  and  the  trials  of 
Christianity  are  to  issue  in  its  triumph. 
"  To  every  one  grass  in  the  field," — 
all  shall  know  the  Lord,  all  shall  be 
righteous.  Blessed  and  glorious  pros- 
pect !  There  may  be  reason  for  think- 
ing that  the  regenerated  earth  shall  be 
enamelled  Avith  the  loveliness  which 
sparkled  in  paradise,  ere  the  dark  blight 
of  sin  dimmed  the  lustre  ;  but,  at  the 
least,  here  is  a  moral  verdure  of  sur- 
passing richness,  and  I  ask  not  the  vi- 
sions of  a  material  luxuriance,  when 
we  have  thus  the  assurance  of  an  uni- 
versal righteousness.  0  Spirit  of  the 
living  God,  the  parched  and  stricken 
earth  waits  thy  descent :  come  down, 
in  answer  to  our  prayers,  that  the  val- 
leys and  mountains  may  no  longer  lie 
waste. 


53i 


THE    LOWLY    ERRAND. 


SERMON    XII. 


THE    LOWLY    ERRAND 


And  if  any  ina-i  say  aught  unto  you,  ye  shall  say,  TliR  Lord  Inilli  need  of  tliom,  and  stralghtw;iy  he  u  ill 

scndtbciu.'" — Man.  2]:u. 


You  will  all  probably  remember  the 
portion    of   our    Lord's    history   with 
which    these    words    are    connected. 
Christ  was  about  to  make  his  last  entry 
into  Jerusalem,  where  he  was  to  seal 
his  doctrine  with  his  death,  and  offer 
himself  in  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  the 
worhi.    There  was  a  prophecy  which 
had  distinctly  announced  that  the  Mes- 
siah should  enter  the  city  "  riding  up- 
on an  ass,  and  upon  a  colt,  the  foal  of 
an  ass."  That  this  prophecy  might  not 
be  unfulfilled,  our  Lord  determined  to 
make  his  approach  to  Jerusalem  in  the 
manner  which  Zechariah  had  indicated. 
In  order  to  this,  we  read  that  when 
they  "  were  come  to  Bethphage,  unto 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  then  sent  Jesus 
two   disciples,   saying   unto   them,  Go 
into  the  village  over  against  you,  and 
straio-htway   ye   slaall  iind  an  ass  tied, 
and  a  colt  wi"th  her  :  loose   them,  and 
bring  them  unto  me."     The  remainder 
of  the    direction   is  contained   in  our 
text.  The  thing  enjoined  on  the  disci- 
ples had  all  the  appearance  of  an  act  of 
robbery ;  and  it  might  well  be  expect- 
ed that  they  would  encounter  opposi- 
tion. But  Christ  provided  against  this, 
telling  them  what  answer  to  make  if 
any  o'ne  questioned  their  right  to  the 
ass  and  the    colt,    and    assuring  them 
that     this    answer    would    save    them 
from  molestation.    And  so  it  came  to 
pass.    The  disciples  went  as  they  had 
been  directed  ;  the  ass  and  colt  were 
found  at   the   precise  spot   which  had 
been  described  ;  the  ovv'ners  interfered 
to  prevent  what  seemed  like  the  seiz- 
incT  of  their  property  ;  but  the  simple 
v/ords  with  which  Christ  had  furnished 


his  messengers  removed  all  objections, 
and  the  ass  and  colt  were  allowed  to 
depart. 

This  is  one  of  those  occurrences  to 
which  we  may  easily  fail  to  attach  due 
importance,  and  which  contain  instruc- 
tion not  to  be  detected  by   a  cursory 
glance.  The  more  prominent  events  in 
the  history  of  Jesus,  the  great  things 
which  befell   him,    and   the   wonderful 
which  he  wrought,   attract  and  fix  at- 
tention ;  and  we  perhaps  labor  to  ex- 
tract from  them  the  lessons  with  which 
they  are  fraught.     But    minute   things 
we  may  comparatively  overlook,  and 
so  lose  much  which   is   calculated   to 
strengthen  faith  or  regulate  practice. 
Possibly,  there  is  often  as  much  to  ad- 
mire and  imitate,  where  there  is  little  of 
show  in  the  outward  action  and  duty, 
as  where  the  thing  done  overwhelms 
us    by    its    magnificence,   or    that   en- 
joined by  its  arduousness.    Every  one 
stands  in  amazement  by  the  grave  of 
Lazarus,  and  looks  with   awe    on   the 
Redeemer  as,  with  a   single    word,  he 
reanimates   the    dead.    But    few    majr 
I  pause   to    acknowledge    equal    tokens 
I  of  superhuman  ability,  as  Christ  sends 
j  Peter  to  find  a  piece  of  money  in  the 
}  mouth  of  a  fish,  or  two  of  his  disciples 
j  to  bring  an  ass  from  the   neighboring 
village.     Every  one  admits  the  greai- 
\  ness  of  the  obedience  when  Levi  aban- 
1  dons    the   receipt   of  custom,  and   the 
[  difficulty  of  the  injunction,  when  the 
young  man  is  bidden  to  sell  the  whole 
•  of  his  possessions.    But  few,  compara- 
i  tively,  may  observe  hov.'  christian  obe- 
I  dience  was  taxed,  when  apostles  were 
\  sent  on  such  an  errand  as  is  now  to  be 


THE  LOWLY  erka:;d. 


ij  ob 


reviewed,  or  when  the  owners  of  the 
ass  and  the  colt  surrendered  them  on 
being  told  that  they  were  needed  by 
Christ.  Let  us,  then,  devote  a  dis- 
course to  the  considering  an  incident 
which  is  less  likely  than  many  to  at- 
tract by  its  evident  wonderiulness ; 
but  which  may  be  found,  on  inquiry, 
to  attest  most  decisively  the  mission 
of  Christ,  and  to  furnish  lessons  of  the 
lirst  moment  to  ourselves. 

Now  the  Evangelist,  so  soon  as  he 
has  related  how  Jesus  sent  his  disci- 
ples on  the  errand  in  question,  remarks  : 
"All  this  was  done  that  it  might  he 
fulfilled  which  was  spoken  by  the  pro- 
phet," and  then  proceeds  to  quote  the 
words  of  Zechariah.  Here  the  repre- 
sentation undoubtedly  is,  that  Jesus 
sent  for  the  ass  and  the  colt  on  purpose 
that  he  might  accomplish  an  ancient 
prediction,  which,  by  universal  con- 
sent, had  respect  to  the  Messiah.  An 
impostor  would  have  done  the  same. 
Had  a  deceiver  arisen,  professing  to  be 
the  Christ,  he  would  of  course  have 
endeavored  to  establish  a  correspond- 
ence between  himself  and  the  deliverer 
whom  seers  had  beheld  in  their  vi- 
sions.* Wheresoever  the  thing  pre- 
dicted were  such  that  its  seeming  ac- 
complishment might  be  contrived,  he 
would  naturally  have  set  himself  to  the 
bringing  round  what  should  pass  for 
fulfilment.  And  certainly  the  prophecy 
of  Zechariah  is  one  which  a  false  Christ 
might  have  managed  to  accomplish. 
There  was  nothing  easier  than  to  have 
arranged  for  entering  Jerusalem  in  the 
manner  indicated  by  the  prophet :  any 
one  who  pretended  to  be  the  Christ, 
and  who  knew  that  the  riding  into  the 
city  on  an  ass  was  one  appointed  sign 
of  the  Christ,  could  have  taken  care 
that  this  sign  at  least  should  be  his, 
whatever  the  particulars  in  which  he 
might  fail  to  give  proof.  We  do  not, 
then,  bring  Christ's  entering  Jerusalem 
in  the  manner  foretold  by  Zechariah, 
us  any  convincing  evidence  of  the 
truth  of  his  pretensions  :  there  was, 
indeed,  the  accomplishment  of  a  pro- 
phecy, but  it  Vv'as  a  prophecy  of  v/hich, 
on  the  showing  of  the  Evangelist,  Je- 
sus himself  arranged  the  accomplish- 
ment, and  which  an  impostor  might, 
without    difficulty,  have    equally   ful- 


"  See  .Sell  110:1  ;;. 


filled.  It  was  necessary  that  the  thing 
predicted  should  come  to  pass,  other- 
wise, as  you  must  ail  see,  there  would 
have  been  a  flaw  in  the  credentials  of 
our  Lord:  for  as  the  riding  on  the 
ass  into  Jerusalem  had  been  distinctly 
foretold,  he  could  not  have  been  the 
Christ  had  he  not  thus  entered  the 
city.  Hence  the  accomplishment  of  the 
prophecy  in  question  prevented  an  ob- 
jection rather  than  furnishedaproof :  it 
prevented  an  objection,  because  the  not 
having  ridden  into  Jerusalem  might 
have  been  urged  in  evidence  that  Jesus 
could  not  be  the  Christ:  but  it  fur- 
nished no  proof,  because  a  deceiver 
might  have  contrived  to  mai:e  his  en- 
try as  the  prophet  had  announced. 

But  if  we  may  not  dwell  on  the  inci- 
dent before  us  as  proving  Christ  divine 
through  the  witness  of  fulfilled  pro- 
phecy, let  us  consider  whether  there 
be  not  the  witness  of  more  than  human 
prescience  and  power.  And  here, 
again,  we  must  proceed  with  caution 
and  limitation.  For  just  as  there  may 
be  contrivance  to  produce  the  appa- 
rent accomplishment  of  prophecy,  there 
may  be  to  effect  the  apparent  display 
of  supernatural  attributes.  There  was 
— at  least  there  may  have  been,  a  dis- 
play of  superhuman  knowledge  and 
power.  Christ  told  his  disciples,  with 
the  greatest  minuteness,  where  they 
should  find  the  animals,  and  what  words 
would  induce  the  owners  to  allow  their 
being  taken.  If  you  read  the  accounts 
in  the  several  Evangelists,  you  will 
perceive  that  he  went  into  the  nicest 
particulars.  There  was  to  be  an  ass 
tied,  and  a  colt  with  her.  The  colt 
was  to  be  one  on  which  never  man  had 
sat.  The  place  was  to  be  immediately 
on  entering  the  village,  and  where  two 
ways  met.  The  owners  Avere  to  make 
objection,  but  to  withdraw  that  objec- 
tion on  being  told,  "  The  Lord  hath 
need  of  them."  Now,  if  this  were  not 
miracle,  the  owners  having  been  su- 
pernatuvally  acted  on,  was  it  not  pro- 
phecy 1  Christ  predicted  certain  oc- 
currences, and  when  all  came  to  pass 
as  he  had  said,  was  there  not  proof  of 
his  being  gifted  with  more  than  human 
foresight '(  Yes  ;  if  the  whole  were 
not  contrived  and  pre-arranged.  And 
it  might  have  been.  What  easier  than 
for  an  impostor  and  his  confederates 
to    have   managed    the    whole    affair  5 


536 


THE    LOWLY    ERRAND. 


The  impostor  might  have  agreed  with 
his  confederates,  that  they  should  be 
in  waiting  at  a  certain  place  with  cer- 
tain animals,  and  that,  on  receiving  a 
certain  message,  they  should  surren- 
der those  animals.  And  thus  miglit  he 
have  acquired  for  himself  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  prophet,  though  there  would 
have  been  nothing  in  the  whole  trans- 
action but  trick  and  collusion. 

Let  us  consider,  however,  whether 
the  supposition  of  trick  and  collusion 
can  be,  in  any  measure,  sustained  under 
the  circumstances  of  the  case.  Had 
the  owners  of  the  ass  been  confede- 
rate with  Christ,  they  must  have  been 
of  the  number  of  his  followers  or  ad- 
herents. But  then  they  would,  almost 
necessarily,  have  been  known  to  the 
disciples  whom  Jesus  sent,  and  thus 
the  whole  deception  would  have  been 
instantly  exposed.  For  you  are  to  ob- 
serve, that,  if  any  were  to  be  convinced 
or  persuaded  by  the  prescience  dis- 
played, it  must  have  been  the  disci- 
ples 5  no  others,  so  far  as  we  know, 
were  acquainted  with  what  we  may 
call  Christ's  prediction.  But  no  effect 
could  have  been  wrought  on  the  disci- 
ples, had  not  the  owners  of  the  ass  been 
strangers  to  Jesus;  and,  if  strangers, 
they  could  not  have  been  leagued  with 
him  to  effect  a  deceit. 

Whilst,  therefore,  we  readily  allow 
that  there  was  that  in  the  things  pre- 
dicted and  performed  which  might 
have  given  place  for  imposture,  we 
contend  that  the  circumstances  ex- 
clude the  supposition  of  imposture, 
and  leave  room  for  nothing  but  belief 
that  Christ  really  prophesied,  and  that 
events  proved  his  prophecy  truth.  And 
having  satisfied  ourselves  that  there 
could  not  have  been  deception  or  col- 
lusion, we  may  admire  the  prescience 
and  power  displayed,  nnd  derive  from 
them  fresh  witness  to  the  dignity  of  our 
Lord.  We  have  pointed  out  to  you 
how  the  prophecy  descended  into  the 
minutest  particulars,  and  it  is  this  ac- 
curacy of  detail  which  makes  pro- 
phecy wonderful.  A  great  occurrence 
may  often  be  conjectured  through  hu- 
man sagacity ;  a  keen  observer  will 
mark  the  shadows  thrown  by  coming 
events,  and  give  notices  of  those  events, 
which  time  shall  accurately  verify.  But 
the  difficulty  is  to  go  into  trifles,  to 
foreknow  things  trifling  in  themselves, 


or  their  trifling  accidents  and  accom- 
paniments. 1  am  really  more  struck 
at  the  foreknowledge  of  Christ,  when 
sending  his  disciples  for  the  ass  and 
the  colt,  than  when  announcing  the  de- 
solations which  should  come  upon  Je- 
rusalem. Circumstanced  as  the  Jews 
were  in  regard  of  the  Romans,  sub- 
jected to  their  empire  but  galled  by 
the  yoke,  a  far-sighted  politician  might 
have  conjectured  the  arrival  of  the 
time  when  rebellion  would  make  the 
eagle  swoop  down  to  the  slaughter. 
But  that  an  ass  and  her  foal  should  be 
found,  at  a  certain  moment,  on  a  cer- 
tain spot — that  the  owners  would  al- 
low them  to  be  taken  away  on  the  ut- 
terance of  certain  words,  which  even  a 
thief  might  have  used — indeed,  there 
may  not  be  as  much  majesty  in  such  a 
prophecy,  as  when  the  theme  is  a  con- 
queror's march  or  an  empire's  fall,  but 
1  know  not  whether  there  be  not  more 
marvel,  if  you  judge  by  the  room  given 
for  a  shrewd  guess  or  a  sagacious  sur- 
mise. 

There  was  miracle,  moreover,  as 
well  as  prophecy.  I  can  count  it  no- 
thing less  than  a  miracle  wrought  up- 
on mind,  that  men,  in  all  probability 
poor  men,  were  willing  to  give  up  their 
property  at  the  bidding  of  strangers, 
and  with  no  pledge  for  its  return.  You 
can  hardly  explain  this  but  on  the  sup- 
position of  a  superhuman  influence  ;  so 
that  Christ,  who  had  before  showed  his 
power  over  matter  at  a  distance,  by  heal- 
ing the  centurion's  son  without  going 
to  his  house,  now  showed  his  power 
over  mind  at  a  distance,  by  constrain- 
ing men  to  act  without  bringing  them 
to  hear.  Hence,  we  can  declare  the 
incident  before  us  a  singular  exhibition 
of  the  power  of  prophecy  and  the  pow- 
er of  miracle  ;  an  exhibition,  moreover, 
as  appropriate  as  it  was  striking.  Wc 
can  suppose  that  our  Redeemer,  know- 
ing the  bitter  trials  to  which  his  disci- 
ples were  about  to  be  exposed,  desired 
to  give  them  some  proof  of  his  super- 
human endowments,  which  might  en- 
courage them  to  rely  on  his  protec- 
tion when  he  should  no  longer  be  visi- 
bly amongst  them.  What  shall  be  the 
proof!  shall  he  control  the  tumultu- 
ous elements'?  shall  he  summon  le- 
gions of  angels  ]  shall  he  shake  Jeru- 
j  salem  Vi'ith  the  earthquake  1  shall  he 
divide  the  Jordan  1  Nay,  it  was  not  by 


THE    LOWLY    ERRAND. 


537 


any  stupendous  demonstration  that  the 
timid  disciples  were  likely  to  be  assu- 
red. They  rather  required  to  be  taught 
that  the  knowledge  and  power  of  their 
Master  extended  to  mean  and  incon- 
siderable things;  for  hence  they  would 
learn,  that,  though  poor  and  despised, 
they  should  not  be  overlooked  but  en- 
gage his  protection  and  care.  They 
wanted  evidence  that  his  presence  was 
not  needful  in  order  to  his  guardian- 
ship, but  that  he  could  act  on  their 
enemies  as  well  when  at  a  distance  as 
when  near.  And  the  more  magnificent 
miracle  might  not  have  certified  them 
on  the  points  on  which  they  thus  need- 
ed assurance.  But  this  was  done  by  an 
exhibition  of  prescience  in  regard  to 
an  animal  and  of  power  over  its  owner. 
He  who  could  be  taking  cognizance  of 
the  place  of  an  ass  and  her  foal,  would 
not  fail  to  observe  the  position  of  the 
poor  fishermen,  his  followers ;  he  who 
could  influence  those  who  saw  him  not 
to  surrender  their  property,  would  put 
forth  control  over  persecutor's  when 
he  had  returned  to  the  heavens. 

And  therefore  do  we  call  upon  you 
to  admire  the  transaction  under  review, 
not  only  because  it  displayed  super- 
human knowledge  and  power,  but  dis- 
played them  in  the  manner  best  adapt- 
to  the  circumstances  of  those  for  whose 
benefit  it  took  place.  Our  blessed  Sa- 
vior repeated  the  kind  of  display,  as 
though  feeling  its  special  suitableness 
to  his  disciples,  when  he  indicated  the 
place  for  eating  the  passover,  by  the 
meeting  a  man  "bearing  a  pitcher  of 
water."  The  ass  and  the  colt  might 
have  been  procured  without  all  this 
labored  and  circuitous  process.  But 
Jesus,  contemplating  the  fulfilment  of 
an  ancient  prediction,  would  have  it 
fulfilled  through  such  means  as  should 
strengthen  the  faith  of  the  dejected 
followers,  who  were  soon  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  him.  He  might  in  a  mo- 
ment, by  an  act  of  creative  power, 
have  produced  the  creatures  of  which 
he  stood  in  need.  Or  he  might  have 
summoned  the  chief  priests  and  scribes, 
and  constrained  them,  however  much 
against  their  will,  to  provide  for  his 
triumphant,  yet  humiliating,  entry. 
And  in  such  methods  there  might 
have  been  more  that  was  calculated  to 
dazzle  and  amaze.  But  if  the  despised 
were  to  be  taught  that  meanness  could 


not  hide  from  his  notice,  and  the  de- 
serted that  distance  could  not  with- 
draw from  his  protection,  then,  indeed, 
nothing  could  have  been  more  appro- 
priate than  the  transaction  before  us. 
It  might  have  been  a  loftier  bidding, 
Go  ye  to  the  wilderness  and  command 
hither  the  untamed  thing  which  "  scorn- 
eth  the  multitude  of  the  city,  neither 
regardeth  he  the  crying  of  the  driver  ;" 
or,  "  Go  ye  to  the  Sanhedrim,  and  de- 
mand of  the  haughty  assembly  that 
they  furnish  my  humble  equipage,  and 
so  enable  me  to  fulfil  prophecies  which 
shall  witness  against  them  ;"  but  there 
was  immeasurably  more  of  regard  for 
the  wants  of  his  disciples,  more  of  ten- 
der consideration,  more  of  gracious 
forethought,  in  the  directions  before 
us,  "Go  ye  into  the  village:  ye  shall 
find  an  ass  tied,  and  a  colt  with  her  : 
loose  them,  and  say,  The  Lord  hath 
need  of  them." 

Now,  up  to  this  point  we  have  ex- 
amined the  transaction  with  reference 
to  our  Savior,  considering  only  the 
prescience  and  power  displayed,  to- 
gether with  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
that  may  be  traced  in  the  mode  of  dis- 
play. Let  us  now  turn  to  the  conduct 
of  the  disciples,  and  see  whether  there 
be  not  much  to  deserve  our  imitation. 

It  does  not  appear  that  there  was 
any  hesitation  as  to  the  obeying  a 
command  which  might  naturally  have 
been  heard  with  some  measure  of  re- 
pugnance. The  disciples  were  to  go 
on  what  might  have  passed  for  a  wild 
errand.  Was  it  likely  that  they  should 
find  the  ass  and  the  colt  just  where 
Christ  said  "?  If  they  did,  how  were 
they  to  obtain  possession  1  what  was 
it  but  robbery  to  attempt  to  remove 
them  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
owners!  and  if  the  owners  should  be 
standing  by,  what  could  be  expected 
from  them  but  insult  and  violence  % 
what  probability  was  there  that  they 
would  be  influenced  by  such  words  as 
Christ  directed  to  be  used  ]  It  can 
hardly  be  questioned  that  most  of  us 
would  have  been  ready  with  these 
doubts  and  objections.  Vve  iavent  rea- 
sons enough  for  hesitating,  or  refus- 
ing to  obey,  when  there  is  not  half  so 
much  of  plausible  excuse  for  avoid 
ing  a  prescribed  path  of  duty.  How 
difficult  do  we  find  it  to  take  God  at 
his  word,  to  show  our  faith  in  a  pro- 
68 


5  33 


THE    LOWLY    EIIKAKD, 


iriise  by  fulfilling'  its  condition  !  We 
will  not  go  to  the  place  where  the  two 
Avays  meet,  on  the  simple  assurance 
that  we  shall  there  find  what  we  seek  ; 
we  want  some  more  sensible  evidence 
us  to  the  animals  being  there,  before 
we  adventure  on  what  may  only  dis- 
appoint. And  if  we  are  to  be  exposed 
to  misconstruction  or  opprobrium,  if 
the  thing  which  we  are  called  upon  to  ' 
do  be  likely  to  bring  reproach,  or  pive 
occasion  for  calumny,  what  a  shrink- 
iug  is  there  !  what  a  reluctance  !  The 
positive  command  of  Christ  would 
hardly  suflice,  if  it  required  what  an 
ill-natured  world  might  liken  to  rob- 
bery. Not  that,  ia  obeying  the  Divine 
law,  we  shall  ever  give  just  cause  for 
opprobrious  reflection  ;  the  command 
might  be  to  take  the  ass  and  the  foal, 
but  God  v/ould  provide  that  the  taking 
them  should  not  bring  disgrace  upon 
religion.  But  this  it  is  for  which  we 
cannot  trust  him  :  we  doubt  whether 
there  will  be  any  such  power  in  the 
words,  ''  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them," 
as  will  secure  us  from  violence  or 
malice  ;  and  therefore,  we  either  de- 
cline the  duty  altogether,  or  enter  on 
it  with  a  hesitation,  and  want  of  faith, 
which  may  themselves  produce  the  re- 
sults of  which  we  are  in  dread. 

It  was  not  thus  with  the  first  disci- 
ples j  and  we  shou.ld  do  well  to  en- 
deavor to  imitate  thejr  obedience.  It 
seems,  with  them,  to  have  been  enough 
that  the  duty  was  clear,  as  enjoined  by 
a  plain  command  of  their  Master  ;  and 
3uunediately  they  "conferred  not  with 
liesh  and  blood,"  hearkened  not  to  car- 
nal suggestions,  but  acted  as  men  who 
knew  that  compliance  was  their  part, 
and  the  removal  of  difficulties  God's. 
Thus  should  it  be  with  us;  we  should 
have  but  one  object,  that  of  satisfying 
ourselves,  from  the  prayerful  study  of 
.Scripture,  whether  this  action  be  right 
or  tiiat  action  wrong;  when  the  deci- 
sion is  reached,  there  should  be  no  he- 
sitation in  regard  either  of  consequen- 
ces or  means ;  what  God  has  made  it 
incumbent  on  us  to  do,  he  will  enable 
us  to  perform  ;  what  he  requires  us  to 
srive  up,  he  will  not  suiler  us  to  want. 
]f  he  send  us  to  the  place  where  the 
two  ways  meet,  it  shall  be  only  our 
faithlessness  whicli  can  prevent  our 
there  finding  what  Ave  seek  ;  and  if 
his  bidding  seem  to  expose  us  to  the 


being  called  robbers,  he  will  see  his 
will  so  executed  as  to  silence  the  ad- 
versary. 

And  then  it  is  well  worthy  of  re- 
mark that  it  looked"^like  an  ignoble  er- 
rand on  which  the  disciples  were  dis- 
patched. When  sent  to  preach  the 
Gospel  in  the  cities  of  Judea,  there 
was  something  illustrious  in  the  com- 
mission; we  can  imagine  them  going 
forth,  sustained  in  part  by  the  lofty  con- 
sciousness of  being  messengers  from 
heaven,  charged  with  tidings  of  unri- 
valled importance.  But  to  be  sent  to  a 
village  in  quest  of  an  ass  and  her  foal; 
what  an  indignity,  it  might  almost  have 
been  said,  for  men  on  whom  had  been 
bestowed  supernatural  powers,  who 
had  been  intrusted,  not  only  with  the 
preaching  of  the  Gospel,  but  with  the 
ability  to  work  wonders  in  proof  of  its 
truth.  Probably  they  were  not  av/are 
of  Christ's  reasons  for  sending  them 
on  such  an  errand;  it  might  have 
thrown  a  sort  of  splendor  about  the 
commission,  had  they  known  that  an- 
cient prophecy  was  to  be  thereby  ac- 
complished. But  it  wa?  not  until  after 
his  resurrection  that  Christ  expounded 
unto  his  disciples  "in  all  the  Scrip- 
tures the  things  concerning  himself." 
It  may,  therefore,  have  been  that  they 
whom  he  dispatched,  had  no  idea  what- 
soever of  being  instrumental  to  fulfil- 
iho-  a  famous  prediction,  but  went  about 
tlie  business  in  ignorance  of  all  that 
might  have  redeemed  it  from  apparent 
ignoblenes;8.  The  opinion  of  many  is, 
that  the  two  disciples  were  Peter  and 
John,  men  who  had  accompanied  the 
Redeemer  to  Tabor,  and  witnessed  the 
wondrous  scene  of  his  transfiguration. 
What  a  change  was  here  !  to  have  been 
selected,  at  one  time,  to  go  to  meet 
Moses  and  Elias,  emerging  ia  glory 
from  the  invisible  world  ;  and  at  ano- 
ther, to  go  into  a  village,  and  find  an 
ass  and  her  foal  for  their  Master.  But 
it  was  for  their  J-Iaster :  and  this  suf- 
ficed. It  mattered  nothing  to  them  on 
what  they  were  employed,  provided 
only  it  was  Christ  by  whom  they  wen- 
employed.  That,  they  felt,  could  not 
be  degrading  which  he  commanded  ; 
nor  tliat  unimportant  by  which  he 
might  be  served.  Oh  for  something 
of  the  like  spirit  amongst  ourselves — 
a  readiness,  to  fill  the  lower  offices  as 
well   as    the    chief,    a    disposition    lu 


THE    LOWLY    ER1^\ND. 


53E) 


.ctjunt  it  honor  enough  to  be  useful 
to  Christ,  in  whatever  capacity!  How 
many  are  there  v.'ho  can  be  active  and 
earnest  in  what  is  great  and  imposing, 
and  take  the  lead  in  enterprises  for  the 
spread  of  the  Gospel,  who,  neverthe- 
less, have  no  taste  for  humbler  duties, 
duties  to  be  discharged  in  the  hovel  of 
poverty,  and  at  the  bedside  of  sickness ! 
This  is  willingness  to  be  the  disciple, 
whilst  Judea  has  to  be  traversed,  with 
all  the  insignia  of  an  ambassador  from 
God,  and  unwiliingncF,;^,  when  the  ass 
and  the  colt  are  to  bo  fetched  from  the 
village.  How  many  can  hearken  gladly 
to  religion,  whilst  discourse  turns  only 
on  lofty  things,  on  communings  with 
Deity,  on  manifestations  of  heaven, 
who  yet  feel  impatience,  and  even  dis- 
gust, when  there  is  mention  of  a  cross 
to  be  borne,  and  reproach  to  be  braved. 
.\nd  what  is  this  but  readiness  to  fol- 
low Christ  to  the  mount,  when  he  is 
about  to  assume  glorious  apparel,  and 
shine  forth  in  the  majesty  which  is  es- 
sentially his  own,  but  refusal  to  act  in 
his  service  when  he  requires  the  mean 
animal,  which  is  likely  to  procure  him 
the  scorn  of  the  proud  1 

Indeed  it  is  a  prime  truth,  but  one 
which  we  are  all  slow  to  learn,  that 
there  is  no  employment  which  is  not 
ennobled  through  being  employment 
for  Christ,  and  that  it  is  not  genuine 
Christianity  Vv'hich  selects  what  it  likes, 
and  leaves  what  it  dislikes.  If  we  have 
the  love  of  Christ  in  our  hearts,  it  will 
be  our  dominant  desire  to  promote  his 
cause  and  perforui  his  will ;  and  though 
the  dominance  of  this  desire  may  not 
prevent  our  feeling  that  we  should  pre- 
fer one  sphere  of  labor  to  another,  or 
enter  with  greater  alacrity  on  this 
course  than  on  that,  it  will  certainly 
produce  readiness  for  every  variety  of 
duty,  for  fetching  the  colt  on  which 
Christ  may  ride,  as  well  as  for  rear- 
ing the  temple  in  u'hich  he  may  dwell. 
And  we  sot  before  you  the  example  of 
the  Apostles  in  a  particular,  in  which, 
possibly,  it  is  often  overlooked.  We 
show  you  how,  without  the  least  hesi- 
tation, these  holy  men  set  themselves 
to  the  obeying  a  command,  against 
which  they  might  have  offered  very 
plausible  objections,  objections  drawn 
not  only  from  the  little  likelihood  of 
success,  but  from  the  almost  certain 
exposure    to    reproach   and    disgrace. 


We  show  you  also  how  it  was  re- 
quired of  them  to  come  down,  so  to 
speak,  from  their  loftier  occupation, 
and  perform  what  might  be  called  a 
menial  service  ;  and  with  what  alacrity 
they  complied  ;  the  very  men  to  whom 
spirits  were  subject,  and  who  had  been 
ordained  to  wage  God's  war  with  the 
powers  of  darkness,  being  directed, 
and  being  willing,  to  go  on  an  errand 
to  which  the  meanest  were  equal.  The 
disciples  were  never  worthier  of  imita- 
tion than  in  this.  Think  of  them  when 
a  duty  is  proposed  to  you  from  which 
you  recoil,  because  there  seems  but  lit- 
tle to  encourage,  and  you  must,  more- 
over, be  liable  to  opposition  and  ca- 
lumny. Is  it  appai'ently  a  less  hopeful 
thing  which  you  have  to  take  in  hand, 
than  the  finding  so  many  contingencies 
satisfied  as  were  to  meet,  if  the  two 
disciples  succeeded '?  the  animals  of 
the  right  kind,  standing  at  a  certain 
place,  and  at  a  certain  time,  the  own- 
ers consenting  to  their  removal,  with- 
out receiving  price  or  security.  And 
can  the  doing  what  is  bidden  expose 
you  to  more  of  opposition  and  calum- 
ny than  seemed  to  threaten  the  disci- 
ples, who  were  to  take  the  property 
of  others,  and  thus  run  the  risk  of  be- 
ing regarded  and  treated  as  robbers'? 
Think,  moreover,  of  these  disciples 
when  you  either  long  for  more  honor- 
ed employment  than  has  been  allotted 
you  by  God,  or  are  tempted  to  decline 
any  duty  as  beneath  you,  and  fitted 
only  for  such  as  are  inferior  in  office. 
They  were,  probably,  among  the  migh- 
tiest of  Apostles  who  went  into  a  vil- 
lage to  loosen,  and  lead  away  an  ass 
and  her  foal,  at  the  bidding  of  Christ. 
Ah,  it  were  easy  to  exhibit  the  disci- 
ples under  a  more  imposing  point  of 
view,  and  you  might  feel  it  a  stirring 
thing  to  be  bidden  to  imitate  these 
first  preachers  of  Christianity,  as  they 
throw  themselves  into  combat  with  the 
idolatries  of  the  world.  But  the  hard 
thing  is  to  obey  Christ  on  the  simple 
warrant  of  his  word,  without  object- 
ing the  difficulties,  or  computing  the 
consequences.  The  hard  thing  is,  to 
be  willing  to  be  as  nothing,  so  long  as 
you  may  be  useful  in  the  church;  to 
be  content  with  the  lowest  place  in 
the  household  of  the  Lord,  yea,  to 
think  it  honor  to  be  vile,  if  it  be  in- 
deed in  Christ's  cause.    And  wishing 


5i0 


THE   LOWLY    ERRANT. 


to  urg'C  you,  by  the  example  of  Apos- 
tles, to  what  is  hardest  in  duty,  we  do 
not  array  these  men  before  you  in  their 
lofty  enterprise  of  enlightening  igno- 
rance, and  overthrowing  superstition  ; 
we  remind  you  who  they  were,  how 
commissioned,  how  endowed,  and  how 
exalted;  and  then  we  bid  you  ponder 
their  instant  obedience  to  the  com- 
mand, "Go  into  the  village;  straight- 
way ye  shall  find  an  ass  tied,  and  a  colt 
with  her;  loose  them  and  bring  them 
unto  me." 

But  if  there  were  much  worthy  of 
being  admired  and  imitated  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  disciples,  what  are  we  to 
say  to  that  of  the  owners  of  the  ass  and 
the  colt  1  It  were  beside  our  purpose 
to  inquire  into  the  circumstances  or 
character  of  these  men.  Indeed  we 
have  no  material  for  such  an  inquiry, 
as  we  are  not  told  whether  they  had 
any  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  can  there- 
fore but  conjecture  their  treatment  of 
his  pretensions.  Thus  much,  however, 
is  certain — they  opposed  the  removal 
of  their  property,  but  immediately  with- 
drew their  opposition,  on  hearing  the 
words,  "  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them." 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  they  un- 
derstood the  disciples  as  referring  to 
Christ  under  the  name  of  ''  the  Lord," 
or  whether  they  applied  the  name  to 
God ;  for  the  disciples  were  not  in- 
structed to  say,  "  Our  Lord  hath  need 
of  them" — which  would  have  fixed  the 
message  to  Christ — but  "  The  Lord," 
a  form  of  expression  which  is  used  ab- 
solutely of  Deity,  as  well  as  of  the  Me- 
diator. It  is  not  improbable,  therefore, 
that  the  owners  considered  that  their 
property  was  demanded  from  them  in 
the  name  of  the  Almighty,  and  that, 
secretly  influenced  to  regard  the  de- 
mand as  having  actually  proceeded  from 
God,  they  immediately  and  unhesita- 
tingly complied.  At  all  events,  if  it 
were  to  Christ  that  they  made  the  sur- 
render, they  made  it  to  him  under  the 
title  of  "  the  Lord" — thus  recorjnizinaf 
a  right  superior  to  their  own,  and  con- 
fessing in  him  that  authority  v/hich  be- 
longs only  to  God.  So  that,  in  what- 
ever measure  these  men  may  have  been 
acquainted  with  Christ,  they  clearly 
acted  on  the  principle  of  their  being 
stewards  rather  than  proprietors,  hold- 
ing possessions  at  the  will  of  the  Al- 
mighty, and  prepared  to  give  them  up 


so  soon  as  he  should  ask  them.  It  was  . 
enough  for  them  to  receive  an  intima- 
tion that  God  had  employment  for  that 
which  he  had  deposited  with  them,  and 
instantly  thej^  surrendered  it,  as  though 
no  longer  their  own. 

Were  they  not  herein  a  great  exam- 
ple to  ourselves  1  Every  one  of  us  is 
ready  to  acknowledge  in  God  the  uni- 
versal proprietor,  to  confess,  at  least 
with  the  mouth,  that  every  good,  which 
is  delivered  into  our  keeping,  "  cometh 
down  from  the  Father  of  lights."  The 
infidelity  on  such  points  is  almost  ex- 
clusively a  practical  infidelity:  there 
may  be  some,  but  they  are  few,  so 
blinded  by  sensuality,  or  besotted  with 
pride,  that  they  will  boldly  ascribe  to 
their  own  skill  what  they  acquire,  and 
speak  and  think  as  though  there  were 
no  ruler  above  who  both  has  bestowed 
and  may  reclaim  every  tittle  of  their 
possessions.  It  is  virtually  little  more 
than  acknowledging  the  existence  of 
God,  to  acknowledge  that  the  universe, 
in  its  every  department,  is  subject  to 
the  control  and  disposal  of  its  Maker  ; 
that  he  orders,  with  absolute  authority, 
the  portion  of  every  creature,  dimin- 
ishing or  augmenting  it,  making  it  per- 
manent or  variable,  at  his  own  good 
pleasure.  And  if  the  acknowledgment 
were  any  thing  more  than  in  theory,  it 
would  follow  that  men,  conscious  of 
holding  their  property  in  trust,  would 
strive  to  employ  it  in  the  service  of 
the  actual  owner,  and  be  ready  to  part 
with  it,  on  his  indicating  the  least  wish 
for  its  removal.  But  here,  alas,  it  is 
that  the  infidelity  comes  into  action  ; 
and  men,  who  are  most  frank  with  the 
confession  of  not  being  their  oumi,  and 
of  holding  nothing  which  belongs  not 
to  another,  will  be  as  tenacious  of  pos- 
sessions as  though  there  were  no  su- 
perior title  ;  as  reluctant  to  give  up 
any  portion,  even  when  God  himself 
asks,  as  though  stewardship  implied  no 
accountableness. 

The  owners  of  the  ass  and  the  colt 
proceeded  on  the  right  principle,  and 
should  therefore  be  taken  as  examples 
by  ourselves.  They  used  the  animals 
for  their  own  pleasure  or  profit,  so  long 
as  they  were  not  required  by  God,  but 
surrendered  them,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  so  soon  as  they  heard  "  The 
Lord  hath  need  of  them."  And  this 
should  be  the  case  with  every  one  on 


THE    LOWLY    ERRAND. 


541 


whotnGoJ  has  bestowed  earthly  wealth. 
There  is  nothing  to  forbid  the  temper- 
ate enjoyment  of  that  wealth — but  it  is 
held  only  in  trust;  and  a  due  portion 
should  be  cheerfully  given  up,  whenso- 
ever there  is  a  clear  intimation  of  its 
being  needed  by  the  Lord.  Ancient 
prophecy  was  to  be  accomplished.  The 
liedeemer  had  to  make  his  way  into  Je- 
rusalem, as  the  King  of  Zion,  "meek, 
and  sitting  upon  an  ass,  and  a  colt  the 
foal  of  an  ass."  Here  was  the  need : 
and  he,  whose  are  "  the  cattle  on  a 
thousand  hills,"  and  who  could  have 
commanded  the  attendance  of  swarm- 
ing troops  of  the  beasts  of  the  field, 
chose  to  send  to  men  who  had  but 
scanty  possessions;  and  these  men, 
admitting  at  once  his  rights,  gladly 
surrendered  what  they  owned  at  his 
bidding.  Ancient  prophecy  has  yet  to 
be  accomplished  :  the  Redeemer  has  to 
make  his  way  into  districts  of  the 
earth  which  have  not  bowed  at  his 
sceptre,  into  households  and  hearts 
which  have  closed  themselves  against 
him.  And  though  he  might  command 
the  legions  of  angels,  and  cause  a  mi- 
raculous proclamation  of  his  Gospel,  it 
pleases  him  to  work  through  human 
instrumentality — not  indeed  that  the 
instrumentality  can  be  effectual,  ex- 
cept through  his  blessing,  but  that  it  is 
not  his  course  to  produce  results,  save 
through  the  use  of  instituted  means. 
Here  then  is  the  need  :  and  it  may  just- 
]y  be  said,  that,  through  every  state- 
ment of  spiritual  destitution,  every  ac- 
count how  souls  are  perishing  through 
"  lack  of  knowledge,"  and  how  the 
kingdom  of  darkness  is  opposing  it- 
self to  the  kingdom  of  light,  there 
comes  a  message  to  the  owners  of 
riches,  "  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them." 
But  who  will  say  that  the  message 
ordinarily  finds  that  ready  compliance 
which  followed  it  when  delivered  by 
the  first  disciples  of  Christ  ?  Indeed, 
it  will  be  the  commencement  of  a 
new  era  in  the  church,  when  to  show 
that  '■  the  Lord  hath  need"  of  this  or 
that  thing,  shall  suffice  to  procure  its 
cheerful  bestowment.  Yet  assuredly 
this  is  the  just  ground  on  which  to 
rest  every  charitable  appeal :  let  it  be 
an  appeal  in  the  cause  of  God  and  of 
Christ,  and  it  is  not  so  much  a  request 
for  liberality  as  a  demand  for  justice. 
The  Almighty  does  but  ask  his  own : 


you  may  sin  in  withholding,  but 
can  claim  no  merit  for  surrendering. 
Neither  is  it  exclusively  as  pointing 
out  the  tenure  by  which  we  hold  our 
possessions,  that  there  is  a  lesson  in 
Christ's  message  to  the  owners  of  the 
ass  and  the  colt.  It  is  a  message 
which  should  be  heard  through  every 
afflictive  dispensation  ;  for,  in  one  way 
or  another,  it  may  be  said  that  the 
Lord  has  need  of  whatsoever  he  with- 
draws from  our  keeping.  If  he  strip 
us  of  property,  it  may  be  that  we  had 
not  made  a  right  use  of  that  property  ; 
and,  having  need  of  it,  he  has  trans- 
ferred it  to  another  who  will  be  more 
faithful  in  his  stewardship.  Or,  if  we 
be  not  chargeable  with  the  abuse  of 
our  trust,  we  may  be  sure  that  God 
has  taken  the  earthly  riches,  in  order 
to  attach  us  more  closely  to  heaven- 
ly ;  and  he  may  be  said  to  have  needed 
what  he  took,  if  he  took  it  that  he 
might  carry  on  his  great  work  of  mor- 
al discipline. 

It  is  thus  also  with  the  removal  of 
what  we  love  and  miss  more  than 
riches — kinsmen,  and  children,  and 
friends :  "  The  Lord  hath  need  of 
them."  Perhaps  they  have  been  fully 
prepared  for  the  glories  of  heaven  : 
there  were  places  in  the  celestial 
temple  which  awaited  them  as  occu- 
pants ;  and  God,  with  reverence  be  it 
spoken,  could  no  longer  spare  them 
from  his  presence.  Oh,  there  is  many 
a  death-bed,  over  which  angels  might 
be  thought  to  whisper  the  words  now 
before  us;  and  if  they  who  stand 
round  the  bed  should  be  tempted  to 
ask,  ''Why  is  one  so  excellent  to  be 
taken  1  why  are  we  to  be  parted  from 
so  rare  an  example  of  all  that  is  most 
precious  and  beautiful  in  religion  1" 
the  best  answer  might  be,  "  The  Lord 
hath  need  of  him  :"  the  light  which 
has  shone  so  brilliantly  below,  is  now 
wanted  to  add  to  the  radiance  above. 
And  even  if  we  may  not  venture  on 
such  a  statement  as  this,  we  may  still 
say  that  the  dead  are  taken,  that  the 
living  may  be  warned  :  God  breaks 
our  earthly  ties,  to  lead  us  to  the 
commencing  or  strengthening  friend- 
ship with  himself;  and  there  can  be 
nothing  strained  or  exaggerated  in  the 
saying  that  "  the  Lord  hath  need  "  of 
that  which  he  removes,  that  he  may 
correct  and  benefit  his  creatures.    ^  , 


542 


THE    LOAVLY    ERRAND. 


In  how  many  ways  then,  and  throngfh 
how  many  voices,  is  the  message  syl- 
labled,   which    Christ    sent    to    them 
whose  property  he  required.     Heark- 
en   for    it,    and   it  will    come    to    you 
through  all  the  wants  of  your  fellow- 
men,  through  the  prevalence  of  igno- 
rance,  through   the    pressure  of  indi- 
gence, through  the  accidents,  sorrows, 
and  bereavements  of  life.     In  a  thou- 
sand ways  is  God  saying  to  us  that  he 
has  need  of  our  property,  need  of  our 
talents,  need  of  our  time,  need  of  those 
whom  we  love,  and  of  that  which  we 
clicrish.     Shall    we    refuse    him"?    or, 
where   we    have    no    option,    shall   we 
yield  up  grudgingly,  in  place  of  cheer- 
fully, what  he  requires  I     Nay,  let  us 
take  pattern  from  men  to  whom  pro- 
bably   but   little    had   been    intrusted, 
but  who  readily  gave  up  that  little  so 
soon  as  it  was  needed  for  the  service 
of  God.     It  may  be,  that  we  are  often 
inclined  to  excuse  ourselves  from  imi-  j 
tating  scriptural  examples,   by   plead- 
ing   that    the    saints    of   old    were    of 
extraordinary  character,  and  in  extra- 
ordinary   circumstances,    and    cannot 
therefore  with  justice  be  set  before  us  , 
as  models.     If  I  hold  up  the  patriarch  i 
.lob  to  those  on  whom  sorrow  presses 
hard,  and  bid  them  observe  how,  when  ! 
children   were   dead,   and  possessions  j 
destroyed,   this   man   of   God    meekly  1 
said,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  ' 
hath  taken  away:  blessed  be  the  name  j 
of  the  Lord" — Yes,  is  the  feeling,  if 
not  the  answer;  but  Job  was  no  com- 
mon man:  his  name  has  passed  into  a 
proverb:  and  it  is  not  to  be  expected 
that   such   as   we   should   emulate   his  i 
marvellous  patience.     If  again,   when  | 
I  would  urge  men  to  sacrifices  and  en-  j 
durances  in    the  cause  of  Christ  and  ' 
his  Gospel,  I   dwell   on  the   example  | 
of  St.  Paul,  who  counted  "  all  things  | 
but   loss,"   that   he    might    know    and  ! 
serve  the  Redeemer,  "in  journeyings 
often,  in  weariness  and  painfulness,  in 
watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst, 
in  cold  and  nakedness" — Yes,  is  the  | 
sentiment,  if  not  the  expression  ;  but 
St.  Paul  has  never  had  his  equal;  the 
wonder  of  his  own  and  every  succeed-  j 
ing  generation,  we  may  not  think  to  '. 
reach  so  lofty  a  standard. 

Thus  there  is  a  way  of  evading  the  [ 
force  of  scriptural  examples :  men  ! 
imasrine  circumstances  of  distinction 


between  themselves  and  eminent  saints, 
and  give  those  circumstances  in  apo- 
logy for  coming  far  behind  them  iu 
piety.  Let  us  then  learn  from  the  mean 
and  unknown,  of  whom  we  may  not 
plead  that  they  were  separated  from 
us  by  any  thing  rare  in  endowment  or 
position.  Men  who  are  reluctant  to 
part  with  property,  that  it  may  be  em- 
ployed in  the  cause  of  God;  parents 
who  would  withhold  their  children 
from  missionary  work,  or  murmur  at 
their  being  transplanted  from  earth  to 
heaven  ;  sufferers,  to  whom  is  allotted 
one  kind  or  another  of  afflictive  dis- 
pensation, and  who  rebel  under  the 
chastisement,  as  though  it  were  not  for 
good — come  ye  all,  and  learn,  if  not 
from  exalted  persons  such  as  Job  and 
St.  Paul,  yet  from  the  owners  of  the 
ass  and  the  colt  which  Christ  sent  for, 
when  designing  his  last  entry  to  Jeru- 
salem. Tliere  is  virtually  the  same 
message  to  every  one  of  you  as  was 
brought  to  these  poor  and  unknown 
individuals.  The  motive  to  your  sur- 
rendering what  is  asked,  or  bearing 
what  is  imposed,  is  precisely  the  same 
as  was  urged  upon  them.  And  they 
will  rise  up  in  the  judgment  and  con- 
demn you,  if,  with  all  your  superior 
advantages — the  advantages  of  Chris- 
tianity above  Judaism,  of  an  imperfect 
over  an  introductory  dispensation — 
you  show  yourselves  less  compliant 
than  they  were  with  a  summons  from 
the  universal  Proprietor.  Christ,  who 
knoweth  the  heart,  could  reckon  on 
readiness,  so  soon  as  the  owners  should 
be  told  of  his  requiring  the  ass  and  the 
colt.  May  he  reckon  on  the  same  with 
us!  Ah,  let  us,  when  we  go  hence, 
consider  what  we  have  which  God  may 
speedily  require  at  our  hands;  let  us 
search,  and  see  whether  we  are  prepa- 
red to  resign  it,  when  asked  for  by 
God — be  it  wealth,  or  child,  or  honor, 
or  friend— and  let  us  observe  how  re- 
luctance is  rebuked  now,  and  will  be 
witnessed  against  hereafter,  by  the  wil- 
lingness of  the  owners  of  the  ass  and 
the  colt,  of  whom  Christ  could  affirm, 
"Say  ye,  tlie  Lord  hath  need  of  them, 
and  straightway  they  will  send  them." 
We  have  thus  considered  the  inci- 
dents to  which  our  text  has  respect, 
with  reference  to  Christ  himself,  to  his 
disciples,  and  to  the  owners  of  the  ass 
and  the  colt.    We  have  endeavored  to 


THE    LOAVLV    ERRAND. 


543 


fHow  j'Ou  that  our  Lord  added  to  the 
witness  for  his  being  the  Messiah,  by 
tlie  prescience  and  power  disphtyed; 
and  that  the  manner  of  the  display  [ 
was  admirably  appropriate  to  the  wants  , 
and  circumstances  of  his  followers. 
We  have  set  before  you  the  disciples  | 
as  worthy  of  your  close  imitation,  in  i 
that  they  unhesitatingly  obeyed  where  I 
ihey  might  have  plausibly  objected,  ; 
and  were  as  ready  for  a  menial  service  j 
as  for  the  most  honored  and  illustri-  I 
ous.  And  then  the  owners  have  been  ! 
considered,  as  exemplifying  a  great  : 
])rinciple  of  which  we  are  apt  to  lose  ! 
sight — the  principle,  that,  in  the  mat-  j 
ter  of  our  possessions,  we  are  not  : 
proprietors,  but  stewards,  and  should  I 
therefore  hold  ourselves  ready  to  part  i 
with  what  we  have,  so  soon  as  we  , 
know  that  it  is  needed  by  the  Lord. 

They  are  great  lessons,  and  striking  i 
truths,  which  have  thus  been  derived  1 
and  illustrated  from  our  text  and  the 
context.  But,  before  we  conclude,  let  i 
lis, dwell  for  a  moment  on  the  vast  ho- 
nor given  to  humble  individuals,  in  that, 
they  were  allowed  to  contribute  to  tiie 
progress  of  the  Savior,  when,  accom- 
plishing ancient  prediction,  he  advan- 
ced towards  the  city  where  he  was  to 
sacrifice  himself.  I  think,  that,  if  the 
men  saw  the  triumphal  procession,  the 
multitude  spreading  their  garments, 
strewing  the  way  with  branches,  and 
burdening  the  air  with  hosannahs,  they 
must  have  felt  an  elation  of  heart,  that 
their  beasts  should  have  been  chosen 
for  a  personage  whom  thousands  thus 
combined  to  reverence  and  honor.  The 
v.oblest  and  wealthiest  might  justly 
have  exulted,  had  they  been  allowed 
to  aid  the  glorious  advance:  but,  as 
though  to  show  how  the  mean  may 
serve  him,  and  how  their  service  shall 
be  owned,  Christ  openly  used  the  pro- 
])erty  of  the  poor,  on  the  single  occa- 
sion vvhen  there  was  any  thing  like 
pomp  in  his  earthly  career. 

And  why  should  we  not  gather  from 
this,  that,  when  he  shall  come  in  pow- 
er and  great  majesty — not  the  lowly 
man,  entering  Jerusalem  in  a  triumph 
which  was  itself  almost  humiliation, 
but  the  "King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of 
lords" — he  will  acknowledge  and  ex- 
hibit the  services  rendered  him  by  the 
poor  and  despised,  as  well  as  those 
wrought  by  the  great  ones  of  the  earth  1 


It  ought  to  encourage  them  who  have 
but  little  in  their   power,  that  it  was 
"  the  foal  of  an  ass  "  on  which  Christ 
rode,  and  that  this  foal  in  all  probabi- 
lity, belonged  to  the   poor.    We  may 
all  do  something  towards  that  sublime 
consummation   for  Avhich   the  church 
watches  and  prays,  when,  not   from  a 
solitary  city,  and  not  from  a  single  and 
inconstant  people,  but  from  ten  thou- 
sand times  ten  thousand  voices,  from 
every    clime,    and   land,    and    tongue, 
shall  be  heard  the  shout,  "  Hosanna  to 
the  Son  of  David  :  blessed  is  he  that 
cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  ;  ho- 
sanna in  the  highest."  "  The  Lord  hath 
need  "  of  the  strength  of  the  mighty 
and  of  the  feebleness  of  the  weak  ;  of 
the  abundance  of  the  rich  and  of  the 
mites  of  the  impoverished;  and  if  we 
will  go  forth  to   his  help,  if  each,  ac- 
cording to  his  means  and  ability,  will 
strive  to  accelerate  the  day  when  "  all 
shall  know  the  Lord,  from  the  least  to 
I  the  greatest,"  we  may  be  sure  that  our 
labor  shall  not  be  forgotten,  when  "  the 
Son  of  man  shall  come  in  his   glory, 
and  all  the  holy  angels  with  him."  Oh, 
I  if  there  be  some  of  whom  it  shall  then 
!  be  told  that  they  contributed  the  rich 
;  and  the  costly  towards  preparing  the 
way  for  the  advancing  Redeemer,   of 
j  others  it  may  be  said  that  they  had  not 
!  the  rich  and   the   costly  to  give,  but 
I  that,  with  a  willing  heart,  they  offered 
I  their  best,  though  that  best  was  only 
;  the  refuse  and  mean.    And  we  do  not 
I  merely  say  that  the  poorness  of  the 
1  gift  shall  not  cause  it  to  be  overlook- 
j  ed  :    the   inconsiderable  offering  may 
'  be  shown  to  have  been  as  instrumental 
!  as  the  magnificent   in    furthering   the 
;  progress  of  the  Gospel :  he  who,  when 
j  he  would  accomplish  prophecy,  enter- 
!  ed  Jerusalem,  not    in   the  rich  man's 
'  chariot,  but    on   the  poor  man's   ass, 
[  may  prove  that  he  went  forwards  to 
j  his  kingdom,   as  much  through  what 
I  the  feeble  wrought  in  their  weakness, 
'  as  what  the  mighty  effected  in  their 

strength. 
t  Let  this  encoiirage  all,  that  they  1  e 
not  weary  in  weli-doing.  May  all  make 
a  practical  use  of  the  great  doctrine 
of  Christ's  second  coming.  Anticipate 
that  coming  :  realize  your  own  per- 
sonal share  in  that  coming.  He  will 
come  "to  take  account  of  his  servants" 
— are  you  ready  with  your  account  1 


544 


NEUEMIAH    BEFORE    ARTAXERXES. 


have  you  improved  your  talents'?  have 
you  acted  up  to  your  ability  in  further- 
ing the  great  cause  of  truth  upon  earth  1 
Let  none  think  himself  either  excused 
or  injured  by  insignificance.  There  was, 
you  remember,  a  servant  to  whom  but 
one  talent  had  been  given;  and  he  was 
bound  hand  and  foot  and  cast  to  "out- 
er darkness,"  because  that  one  had 
been  hidden,  when  it  might  have  been 


put  "  to  the  exchangers."  There  were 
men  who  perhaps  owned  little  more 
than  an  ass  and  a  colt,  but  they  were 
ready  to  surrender  what  they  had,  when 
needed  by  Christ;  and  lo,  they  were 
honored  to  the  cflecting  what  prophe- 
cy had  announced  in  one  of  its  loftiest 
strains,  they  were  instrumental  to  the 
bringing  and  displaying  her  King  to 
"  the  daughter  of  Zion." 


SERMON    XIII. 


NEHEMIAH    BEFORE    ARTAXERXES. 


"  I  said  unto  the  king,  Let  thfe  king  live  for  ever :  ^^hy  should  not  my  countenance  be  sad,  when  the  city, 
the  place  of  my  fathers'  sepulchres,  lieth  waste,  and  the  gates  thereof  are  consumed  with  fire?  Then 
the  king  said  unto  me,  For  what  dost  thou  make  request  ?  So  I  prayed  to  the  God  of  heaven.  And  I 
said  unto  the  king,  If  it  please  the  king,  and  if  thy  servant  have  found  favor  in  thy  sight,  that  thou 
wouldest  send  me  unto  Judah,  unto  the  city  of  my  fathers'  sepulchres,  that  I  may  build  it." — Nehe- 
miah,  2  :  3,  4,  5. 


When  the  seventy  years  had  expir- 
ed, during  which  God,  in  just  judg- 
ment for  their  many  offences,  had  sen- 
tenced the  Jews  to  captivity  in  Baby- 
lon, he  graciously  remembered  his  pro- 
mise, and  raised  them  up  a  deliverer 
in  the  person  of  Cyrus.  In  the  first 
year  of  that  monarch's  reign,  "  that 
the  word  of  the  Lord,  spoken  by  the 
mouth  of  Jeremiah,  might  be  accom- 
plished," a  royal  edict  was  issued, 
which  not  only  permitted  the  captives 
to  return  to  their  own  land,  but  enjoin- 
ed that  every  facility  should  be  afford- 
ed to  their  march,  and  every  fissistance 
rendered  them  in  the  rebuilding  their 
city  and  temple. 

It  does  not  appear  that  immediate 
and  general  advantage  was  taken  of 
this  edict  ;  the  Jews  did  not  rise  as 
one  man,  under  the  influence  of  a  de- 
sire to  resettle  themselves  in  Pales- 
tine.   And  this  is  little  to  be  wondered 


at,  if  you  remember  the  utter  desola- 
tion in  which  Jerusalem  and  Judea 
then  lay,  the  arduousness  and  perils 
of  the  journey,  and  the  fact  that  the 
captivity  had  continued  so  long  that 
few,  and  those  only  men  fast  advanc- 
ing in  years,  had  ever  seen  the  land  of 
their  fathers,  or  were  bound  to  it  by 
the  ties  of  remembrance  or  acquaint- 
ance. No  marvel  if  there  was  some- 
thing of  pause  and  hesitation,  if  piety 
and  patriotism  did  not  instantly  nerve 
all  the  exiles  to  abandon  the  country 
which  had  almost  become  theirs  by 
adoption,  and  to  seek  a  home  where, 
though  they  had  once  been  possessors, 
they  would  only  find  themselves  stran- 
gers. But  God  purposed  the  restora- 
tion of  the  people,  and  therefore,  as 
we  read,  he  raised  the  spirit  of  "  the 
chief  of  the  fathers  of  Judah  and  Ben- 
jamin, and  the  priests  and  the  Levites', 
to    go   up   to   build  the   house   of   the 


NKHEMIAH    BEFOKE    AKTAXEnXES. 


5i3 


Lord  which  is  at  Jerusalem."  And 
soon,  under  the  guidance' of  Zerubba- 
bel,  there  went  forth  a  mixed  compa- 
ny of  the  old  and  the  young,  bearing 
with  them  not  only  their  own  riches, 
but  "  the  vessels  of  the  house  of  the 
Lord :"  obstacles  were  surmounted, 
dangers  escaped,  through  the  assist- 
ance and  protection  of  God  ;  and  in 
due  time  the  wanderers  reached  the 
spot,  hallowed  by  so  many  magnificent 
recollections,  and  which  was  yet  to  be 
the  scene  of  mightier  things  than  past 
days  had  witnessed. 

But  the  difficulties,  as  you  well  re- 
member, of  the  Jews  did  not  terminate 
with  their  arrival  in  Judea ;  their  city 
and  temple  were  to  be  rebuilded  ;  and 
in  this  great  work,  they  found  invete- 
rate   adversaries    in    the     Samaritans, 
who  had  been  settled  in  the  land  by 
Esarhaddon,    and   who,    professing    a 
mixed  and   spurious  religion,   wished 
not  the  revival  of  the  pure  worship  of 
Jehovah.     The  opposition  of  these  ad- 
versaries  was  so  far   successful,  that 
Cyrus,  the  patron  of  the  Jews,  being 
dead,  "  the  work  of  the  house  of  God  " 
was  made  to  cease  "  until  the  second 
year  of  the  reign   of  Darius."     Then, 
however,    it   recommenced,    the    pro- 
phets Haggai  and  Zechariah  stirred  up 
the  people,  and  God  inclined  the  new 
monarch  to  re-enact  the  decree  which 
had    been   issued   by    Cyrus.      Under 
these  altered  circumstances,    Jerusa-  j 
lem  had  soon  again  a  temple,  which,  j 
if  inferior  to  that  of  Solomon  in  state- 1 
iiness   of  structure,    and    richness  of! 
adornment,  was  yet  prophetically  de- ! 
clared  destined  to  far  higher  dignity,  i 
inasmuch  as  it  should  receive  the  pro-  ] 
mised  Messiah :    "  The   glory  of  this 
latter  house  shall  be  greater  than  of 
the  former,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts ; 
and  in  this  place  will  I  give   peace, 
saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

But  when  the  temple  had  thus  risen, 
and  the  inspired  men  were  dead  whom 
God  had  raised  up  for  the  instruc- 
tion and  encouragement  of  the  people, 
there  appears  to  have  been  great  un- 
settlement  in  both  the  civil  and  ec- 
clesiastical policy  of  the  Jews ;  as  a 
nation,  their  position  was  made  preca- 
rious by  surrounding  enemies  and  in- 
ternal confusion  ;  whilst,  as  the  people 
of  God,  they  had  mingled  themselves 
with   the    people    of    the   lands,    and 


thereby  exposed  themselves  to  his 
wrath.  In  this  crisis,  Ezra  was  rais- 
ed up,  "  A  ready  scribe  in  the  law  of 
Moses:"  having  obtained  sanction  and 
assistance  from  king  Artaxerxes,  he 
visited  Jerusalem  that  he  might  "  teach 
in  Israel  statutes  and  judgments."  It 
would  seem  to  have  been  almost  ex- 
clusively to  religious  matters  that  Ez- 
ra directed  his  attention  ;  he  accom- 
plished a  great  work  in  dissolving  the 
unlawful  connexions  which  the  Jews 
j  had  formed  with  the  people  of  the 
land  ;  but  he  did  little  or  nothing  to- 
!  wards  reinstating  his  country  in  the  po- 
I  sition  which  it  had  once  held  amongst 
j  nations.  Jerusalem  appears  to  have 
remained  without  defences,  exposed  to 
the  assault  of  every  enemy,  and  liable 
at  any  moment — so  ill  was  it  provided 
with  the  munitions  of  war — to  be  re- 
duced to  the  ruins  from  which  it  had 
so  lately,  and  as  yet  so  imperfectly, 
sprung. 

Here  we  come  to  the  actions  of  an- 
other v/orthy,  whose  history  furnishes 
the  latest  canonical  records  of  the 
Jews  till  the  days  of  our  Lord.  When 
about  twelve  years  had  elapsed  from 
the  events  commemorated  in  the  close 
of  the  book  of  Ezra,  we  find  a  Jew, 
named  Nehemiah,  residing  in  Shushan, 
the  capital  of  Persia,  and  filling  the 
office  of  cup-bearer  to  Artaxerxes  the 
king.  His  father,  Hachaliah,  was  pro- 
bably one  of  them  who  had  declined 
to  take  advantage  of  the  decree  of  Cy- 
rus, preferring  to  remain  where  he 
had  made  himself  a  home,  to  return- 
ing to  a  country  where  he  must  feel 
himself  an  alien.  The  son,  Nehemiah, 
occupying  a  post  of  great  honor  in  the 
Persian  court,  may  never  have  had  an 
opportunity  of  visiting  Jerusalem,  but 
his  heart  yearned  towards  the  land 
and  city  of  his  fathers;  with  the  spirit 
of  a  true  patriot,  he  sought  eagerly 
for  information  as  to  the  condition  of 
his  countrymen,  and  longed  to  be  in- 
strumental in  advancing  their  prosper- 
ity. The  information  came  :  Hanani, 
one  of  his  brethren,  and  certain  men 
of  Judah,  reached  Shushan  from  Jeru- 
salem, perhaps  disheartened  by  the 
difficulties  which  they  had  experien- 
ced, and  accounting  it  better  to  re- 
settle in  the  land  in  which  they  had 
been  captives.  They  gave  Nehemiah 
a  melancholy,  though  not,  as  it  would 
C9 


546 


^•SHEJIIAH    BEFORE    AKTAXEKXES. 


seem,  an  exaggerated  account.  "  The  j 
remnant  that  are  left  of  the  captivity  ' 
there  in  the  province  are  in  great  j 
affliction  and  reproach  ;  the  wall  of  i 
Jerusalem  also  is  broken  down,  and  ' 
the  gates  thereof  are  burned  with  ! 
fire."  I 

And  now  it  was  that  the  man  of  i 
piety  appeared  in  the  man  of  patriot- 
ism ;  and  admirably  does  Nehemiali 
stand  forth  as  an  example  to  them  who 
profess  to  have  at  heart  their  coun- 
try's good,  and  to  be  stricken  by  its 
calamities.  He  did  not  immediately 
call  a  meeting  of  the  Jews,  to  consult 
what  might  be  done  for  their  afflicted 
countrymen.  He  did  not  gather  round 
him  a  knot  of  politicians,  that  plans 
might  be  discussed,  and  assistance 
levied.  But,  as  one  who  knew  in  ca- 
lamity the  offspring  of  sin,  and  in  the 
Almighty  the  single  patron  of  the 
distressed,  Nehemiah  "  sat  down,  and 
wept,  and  mourned  certain  days,  and 
fasted,  and  prayed  before  the  God  of 
heaven."  \ 

But    Nehemiah    did    not    count    his  i 
part  done  when  he  had  thus,  in  all  hu-  ] 
mility,  confessed  the  sins  of  his  nation,  ; 
and  entreated  the  interference  of  God.  { 
He  was  not  one  of  them  who  substi-  j 
tute  prayer  for  endeavor,   though  he  | 
would  not  make  an  endeavor  until  he  ; 
had  prepared  himself  by  prayer.    For-  j 
tified  through  humiliation  and  suppli-  I 
cation,  he  now  sought  to  take  advan-  ' 
tage  of  his  position  with  the  king,  and,  j 
true  patriot  as  he  was,  to  render  that  j 
position    useful    to    his    countrymen,  j 
Nearly  four  months  elapsed  from  his, 
interview  with  Hanani,  before  an  op- 
portunity occurred  for  his  addressing 
Artaxerxes.      There    was    probably    a 
rotation   in   the    office    of  cup-bearer, 
which  obliged  him  to  await  liis  turn  ;  : 
and  it  was  at  the  hazard  of  life  to  any 
one  to  enter,  unbidden,  into  the  pre- 
sence  of  the  Persian  monarch.     But 
in  the  month  of  Nisan  he  stood  before 
Artaxerxes,  and  he  "  took  up  the  wine, 
and  gave  it  unto  the  king."     He  was 
now,  however,  heavy  at  heart,  and  the 
handing  the  sparkling  draught  to  the 
monarch  at   his   banquet,   ill  assorted 
with  a  mind  distracted  and  sad.     He 
had    not    the    skill,    indeed    he    could 
Tiot    have    had    the   wish,  to    disguise 
liis  feelings,  and  affect  a  cheerfulness 
which  he  did  not  experience.     It  was 


his  object  to  attract  the  attention  o{ 
the  king;  to  do  this  he  had  only  la 
allow  his  countenance  to  betray  what, 
perhaps,  he  could  hardly  have  forced 
it  to  conceal — for  we  are  expressly 
told  that  he  had  never  "beforetime 
been  sad  in  his  presence" — so  that 
the  altered  demeanor  was  immediate- 
ly observed,  and  its  reason  demanded 
with  all  the  quickness  of  eastern  sus- 
picion. 

And  here  it  is  that  we  reach  the 
verj^  simple,  but  touching,  narration  of 
our  text.  Nehemiah  was  sore  afraid, 
when  Artaxerxes,  struck  with  the  sor- 
row depicted  on  his  features,  impe- 
riously asked  the  cause  of  the  too  evi- 
dent grief.  It  was  the  moment  for 
which  he  hud  wished,  yea,  for  which 
he  had  prayed,  yet,  now  that  it  had 
come,  he  felt  so  deeply  what  con- 
sequences hung  upon  a  word,  that 
he  was  almost  unmanned,  and  could 
scarce  venture  to  unburden  his  heart. 
He  spake,  however,  and,  first  offering 
the  customary  wish  on  behalf  of  the 
king,  asked  how  he  could  be  other 
than  sad,  whilst  the  city,  and  the  place 
of  the  sepulchres  of  his  fathers,  lay 
desolate  and  waste,  and  the  gates 
thereof  were  consumed  with  fire  1 
Upon  this,  Artaxerxes  demanded  what 
request  he  had  to  make  ;  and  Nehe- 
miah, though  his  answer  had  of  course 
to  be  immediately  given,  gave  it  not 
till  he  had  strengthened  himself  by  si- 
lent petition  to  one  greater  than  the 
king;  he  "prayed  to  the  God  of  hea- 
ven," and  then  entreated  permission 
to  go  unto  Judah,  and  build  up  the 
city  of  the  sepulchres  of  his  fathers. 

The  request  was  successful,  though 
the  passage,  which  we  have  selected 
as  our  subject  of  discourse,  does  not 
require  us  to  refer  to  subsequent  events 
in  the  history  of  Nehemiah.  There  is 
enough  in  this  passage  itself  to  require 
and  repay  the  uiost  serious  attention; 
and  we  have  but  engaged  you  with  a 
somewhat  lengthened  review  of  fore- 
going circumstances,  that  you  might 
the  better  appreciate  what  is  here  re- 
corded of  the  conduct  of  Nehemiah. 
The  two  prominent  facts  on  which  we 
wish  to- seize,  do  indeed  widely  difi'er 
the  one  from  the  other,  so  that,  in 
making  them  the  subject  of  a  single 
discourse,  we  cannot  hope  to  preserve 
that  continuousness  of  thought  which 


KEHEMIAH    BEPOUE    ARTAXERXES. 


n-r/ 


«s  generally  to  be  desired  in  addresses 
from  the  pulpit.  But  forasmuch  as  the 
facts  come  together  in  Scripture,  it 
must  be  every  way  right  that  they  be 
gathered,  as  we  now  propose,  into  one 
and  the  same  sermon.  The  facts  are 
these;  the  first,  that  it  was  as  the  city 
of  his  fathers'  sepulchres  that  Jeru- 
salem excited  the  solicitude  of  Ne- 
hemiah ;  the  second,  that  Nehemiah 
found  a  moment  before  answering  the 
king,  to  offer  petition  to  the  Almighty. 
Let  us  have  your  close  attention  to 
these  very  interestiu'^'-,  thouijh  uncon- 
nected topics;  our  lirst  topic  is,  the 
peculiar  plea  which  Nehemiah  urges 
with  Artaxerxes  ;  our  second,  the  eja- 
culatory  prayer  which  went  up  from 
Nehemiah  to  God. 

Now  Jerusalem  had  not  yet  received 
jts  most  illustrious  distinction,  for- 
nsmuch  as  ''the  fulness  of  time"  had 
not  arrived,  and,  theref^ore,  there  had 
3iot  yet  been  transacted  within  her  cir- 
cuits the  wondrous  scenes  of  the  re- 
demption of  the  world.  She  was  re- 
tserved  for  more  stupendous  and  start- 
ling things  than  past  days  had  witness- 
ed, fraught  though  her  history  had 
been  with  miracles  and  prodigy:  her 
•streets  were  to  be  trodden  by  the  in- 
■carnate  God,  and  on  the  summit  of 
Moriah  was  the  promised  seed  of  the 
woman,  bruised  himself  in  the  heel,  to 
;iccomplish  the  first  prophecy,  and 
bruise  the  serpent's  head.  Neverthe- 
less, to  every  man,  especially  to  a  de- 
vout Jew,  there  were  already  reasons 
in  abundance  why  thought  should  turn 
to  Jerusalem,  and  centre  there  as  on  a 
place  of  peculiar  sanctity  and  interest. 
There,  had  a  temple  been  reared, 
''  magnifical  "  beyond  what  earth  be- 
foretime  had  seen,  rich  with  the  mar- 
ble and  the  gold,  but  richer  in  the  visi- 
ble tokens  of  the  presence  of  the  uni- 
versal Lord,  1'here  had  sacrifices  been 
continually  offered,  whose  efficacy  was 
manifest  even  to  them  who  discerned 
not  their  typical  import,  forasmuch  as 
at  times  they  prevailed  to  the  arrest 
of  temporal  visitations,  and  pestilence 
was  dispersed  by  the  smoke  of  the  ob- 
lation. There,  had  monarchs  reigned 
of  singular  and  wide-spread  renown  ; 
the  fame  of  one,  at  least,  had  gone  out 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  nations 
had  flocked  to  hear  the  wisdom  which 
fell   from   his   lips.    There,   had  been 


enacted  a  long  series  of  judgments 
and  deliverances  ;  the  chastisements  of 
heaven  following  so  visibly  upon  wick- 
edness, and  its  protection  on  repen- 
tance, that  the  most  casual  beholder 
might  have  certified  himself  that  the 
supreme  Being  held  the  reins  of  go- 
vernment, and  was  carrying  out  the 
laws  of  a  rigid  retribution. 

Hence,  it  might  easily  have  been 
accounted  for  why  Nehemiah  should 
have  looked  with  thrilling  interest  to 
Jerusalent,  even  if  you  had  kept  out 
of  sight  his  close  connexion  with  those 
who  were  striving  to  reinstate  it  in 
strength,  and  had  not  supposed  any 
travelling  onwards  of  his  mind  to  the 
wonders  with  which  prophecy  yet 
peopled  its  walls.  But  the  observable 
thing  is,  that  Nehemiah  fixes  not  on 
any  of  these  obvious  reasons,  when  he 
Avould  explain,  or  account  for,  his  in- 
terest in  Jerusalem.  He  describes  the 
city  ;  but  he  describes  it  only  as  "the 
place  of  his  fathers'  sepulchres :"  and 
this  he  insists  upon,  as  of  itself  suffi- 
cient to  justify  his  urgency,  pleading 
it  alike  when  he  would  explain  why 
his  countenance  was  sad,  and  when  he 
stated  to  the  king  the  favor  which  he 
sought  at  his  hands.  Before  he  ofl^er- 
ed  his  silent  prayer  to  God,  and  after- 
wards, when  he  might  be  supposed 
to  have  received  fresh  wisdom  from 
above,  he  spake,  you  observe,  of  the 
city  merely  as  of  the  place  of  the  se- 
pulchres of  his  fathers,  as  though  no 
stronger  reason  could  be  given  why 
he  should  wish  to  rebuild  it  ;  none, 
at  least,  whose  force  was  more  felt 
by  himself,  or  more  likely  to  be  con 
fessed  by  the  king.  The  language  of 
Nehemiah  is  too  express  and  too  per- 
sonal, to  allow  of  our  supposing  that 
he  adopted  it  merely  from  thinking 
that  it  would  prevail  with  Artaxerxes  : 
if  there  were  truthfulness  in  this  wor- 
thy, it  was  the  desecration  of  his  fa- 
thers' sepulchres  which  chiefly  dis- 
quieted him ;  it  was  the  wish  of  re- 
storing these  sepulchres  which  mainly- 
urged  to  his  visiting  Jerusalem.  Pon- 
der these  facts  for  a  few  moments ; 
they  are  full,  we  think,  of  beauty  and 
interest. 

If  we  may  argue  from  the  expres- 
sions of  Nehemiah,  then,  it  is  a  melan- 
choly sight — that  of  a  ruined  town,  a 
shattered  navy,  or  a  country  laid  waste 


548 


T<EHEMIAn    BEFOnE    AKTAXERXES. 


by  famine  and  war  ;  but  there  is  a  more 
melancholy  sight  still,  that  of  a  cliurch- 
yard,  where  sleeps  the  dust  of  our  kin- 
dred, desecrated  and  destroyed,  whe- 
ther by  violence  or  neglect.  You  know, 
that  if  poetry  or  fiction  would  place  its 
hero  in  a  position  to  draw  upon  himself 
the  pity  and  sympathy  of  the  reader, 
there  is  nothing  in  which  it  more  de- 
lights that  in  the  bringing  him,  after 
long  wanderings  as  an  exile,  to  the 
scenes  where  his  childhood  was  pass- 
ed, and  making  him  there  (ind  the 
home  of  his  ancestry  deserted  and  ru- 
ined. And  as  the  lonely  man  makes 
painfully  his  way  through  the  scene  of 
desolation,  the  wild  winds  syllabling, 
as  it  would  seem,  the  names  of  other 
days,  there  is  felt  to  be  a  depth  and 
sacredness  in  his  misfortunes,  which 
must  insure  his  being  the  object  of  a 
more  than  common  compassion. 

But,  according  to  Nehemiah,  there 
is  another  position  which  is  yet  more 
deserving  of  sympathy.  Let  us  sup- 
pose a  man  to  have  paid  the  last  sad 
offices  to  parents  whom  he  justly  re- 
vered 5  he  has  laid  them  in  a  decent 
grave,  and,  with  filial  piety,  erected  a 
simple  monument  over  their  remains. 
And  then  he  has  gone  to  distant  lands, 
and  worn  away  many  years  in  separa- 
tion from  all  kinsmen,  though  not  with- 
out frequent  turnings  of  the  heart  to 
the  home  of  young  days.  At  length  he 
revisits  his  native  shore,  and  finds,  as 
in  such  cases  is  commonly  found,  that 
of  the  many  friends  whom  he  had  left, 
scarcely  one  remains  to  welcome  him 
back.  Disappointed  at  not  being  known 
by  the  living,  he  seeks  the  companion- 
ship of  the  dead;  he  hastens  to  the 
village  churchyard  where  his  parents 
sleep;  they  will  speak  to  him  from  the 
grave,  and  he  shall  no  longer  seem 
lonely.  But  he  can  hardly  find  the 
grave;  the  monuments  are  levelled; 
with  difficulty  can  he  assure  himself 
that  the  tombs  themselves  have  not 
been  profaned,  and  the  bones  of  the 
dead  sacrilegiously  disturbed.  Oh,  will 
not  this  be  the  most  heartbreaking 
thing  of  all  1  There  is  something  so 
ungenerous  in  forgetfulness  or  con- 
tempt of  the  dead — they  cannot  speak 
for  themselves;  thev  so  seem,  in  dvinp-, 

,  1        1       •        1  '    _         J        to' 

to  bequeath  their  dust  to  survivors,  as 
though  they  would  give  affection  some- 
thing to  cherish,  and  some  kind  office 


still  to  perform ;  that,  from  graves 
wantonly  neglected  or  invaded,  there 
might  always  appear  to  issue  the  pa- 
tlielic  complaint,  "  We  have  nourished 
and  brought  up  children,  and  they  have 
rebelled  against  us." 

And  we  cannot  but  think  that  the 
feelings  of  the  man  Avhom  we  have 
thus  carried,  not  to  the  ruined  mansion, 
but  to  the  ruined  mausoleum  of  his 
ancestry,  would  be  a  full  explanation 
why  Nehemiah  laid  such  emphasis  on 
tlie  fact  which  he  selected,  when  he 
sought  to  move  Artaxerxes;  why  he 
omitted  all  reference  to  Jerusalem  in 
its  magnificence,  to  the  thrones  of  mo- 
narchs,  the  schools  of  prophets,  the 
altars  of  sacrifice ;  and  simply  said, 
"  Why  should  not  my  countenance  be 
sad,  when  the  city,  the  place  of  my 
fathers'  sepulchres,  lieth  waste,  and  the 
gates  thereof  are  consumed  with  fire  V 

We  do  not,  however,  suppose  that 
the  strong  marks  of  respect  for  the 
dead,  which  occur  so  frequently  in  the 
Bible,  are  to  be  thoroughly  accounted 
for  by  the  workings  of  human  feelings 
and  alTections.  We  must  have  recourse 
to  the  great  doctrine  of  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  body,  if  we  would  fully  un- 
derstand why  the  dying  Joseph  "gave 
commandment  concerning  his  bones," 
and  Nehemiah  offered  no  description 
of  Jerusalem,  but  that  it  was  the  place 
of  the  sepulchres  of  his  fathers.  And 
there  is  no  need  here  for  entering  into 
any  inquiry  as  to  the  degree  of  ac- 
quaintance with  the  doctrine  of  the  re- 
surrection which  was  possessed  under 
the  old  dispensation.  If  you  find  lan- 
guage used  which  cannot  be  adequately 
interpreted  but  by  supposing  a  know- 
ledge of  the  body's  resurrection,  it 
must  rather  become  us  to  infer  that 
men  were  then  informed  of  this  truth, 
than  to  conclude,  on  any  other  grounds, 
that  it  was  altogether  hidden. 

But  v.'hen  you  bring  into  the  account 
the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection,  it  is 
no  longer  merely  as  a  man  of  strong 
natural  feelings,  but  as  an  ardent  be- 
liever in  the  loftiest  truths,  that  the 
supposed  visiter  to  the  desecrated 
churchyard  might  be  confounded  and 
overcome.  The  doctrine  of  the  resur- 
rection throws,  as  you  must  all  admit, 
a  sacredness  round  the  remains  of  the 
dead,  because  it  proves,  that,  though 
we  have  committed  the  bodv  to  the 


NEHEMIAH    BEFORE    ARTAXERXES. 


54.9 


ground,  "  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust," 
that  body  is  reserved  for  noble  allot- 
ments, destined  to  reappear  in  a  loftier 
scene,  and  discharge  more  glorious 
functions.  It  were  a  light  spirit  which 
should  not  be  overawed  amid  the  ruins 
of  a  temple,  which  should  recognize 
nothing  solemn  in  the  mouldering  piles 
which  it  knew  to  have  once  canopied 
the  more  immediate  presence  of  God; 
especially  if  it  further  knew,  that,  on 
some  approaching  day,  the  ruins  would 
be  reinstated  in  symmetry  and  strength, 
forminor  again  a  structure  whose  walls 
should  be  instinct  with  Deity,  and  from 
whose  recesses,  as  from  awful  shrines, 
should  issue  the  voice  of  the  Eternal. 
The  dead  body  is  that  fallen  temple  : 
consecrated  upon  earth  as  the  habita- 
tion of  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  decays  only 
that  it  may  be  more  gloriously  rebuilt, 
and  that  God  may  dwell  in  it  for  ever 
above.  Therefore  is  it  no  slight  impie- 
ty to  show  contempt  or  neglect  of  the 
dead.  It  is  contempt  or  neglect  of  a 
sanctuary ;  and  how  can  this  be  shown 
but  with  contempt  or  neglect  of  the 
Being  to  whom  it  is  devoted  1 

And  there  is  yet  more  to  be  said ; 
the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  is  the 
crowning  doctrine  of  revelation;  Christ 
was  "raised  again  for  our  justifica- 
tion:" ''if  the  dead  rise  not,  then  is 
not  Christ  raised  ;  and  if  Christ  be  not 
raised,  your  faith  is  vain,  ye  are  yet  in 
your  sins.  Then  they  also  which  are 
fallen  asleep  in  Christ  are  perished." 
He,  therefore,  who  would  forget,  make 
light  of,  or  deny  the  doctrine  of  the 
resurrection,  sets  himself  against  no 
solitary  article  of  the  faith  ;  it  is  Chris- 
tianity in  its  integrity  which  is  at  stake  ; 
it  is  all  that  is  comforting,  all  that  is 
saving  in  its  tenets,  which  is  displaced 
or  disputed.  He,  on  the  other  hand, 
who  is  earnest  in  defence  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  resurrection,  and  eager  to 
show  that  he  values  it  as  well  as  be- 
lieves, does  not,  therefore,  confine  him- 
self to  a  single  truth  of  our  holy  reli- 
gion :  the  sufliciency  of  the  atonement, 
the  completeness  of  redemption,  the 
pardon  of  every  sin,  the  opening  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers, 
these  he  sees  written,  as  they  nowhere 
else  are,  in  that  general  emptying  of  the 
sepulchres  which  he  is  taught  to  an- 
ticipate— these  are  preached  to  him 
most  convincingly  by  the  trumpet  of 


the  archangel,  whose  peal  already  falls 
on  the  watchful  ear  of  faith.  Then  the 
well-kept  churchyard,  with  its  various 
monuments,  each  inscribed  with  lines 
not  more  laudatory  of  the  past  than 
hopeful  of  the  future,  what  is  it  but  the 
public  testimony  to  all  that  is  precious 
in  Christianity,  forasmuch  as  it  is  the 
public  testimony  that  the.  dead  shall 
live  again  1  Whereas,  if  tablets  be  de- 
faced, graves  desecrated,  and  the  sol- 
emn enclosure  surrendered  to  insult 
and  neglect,  it  is  not  merely  that  the 
dead  are  dishonored,  and  that  violence 
is  thus  done  to  the  best  feelings  of  our 
nature  ;  it  is  that  great  slight  is  thrown 
on  all  which,  as  immortal  beings,  we 
are  most  bound  to  hold  dear,  a  great 
acknowledgment  apparently  withdrawn 
of  truths  without  which  "  we  are  of  all 
men  most  miserable."  It  is  easy  and 
specious  to  enlarge  on  the  folly  of  pay- 
ing honor  to  the  prey  of  the  worm, 
conveying  with  so  much  parade  to  the 
grave  that  which  is  turning  into  a  mass 
of  corruption,  and  then,  perhaps,  erect- 
ing a  stately  cenotaph  to  perpetuate  the 
name  of  a  certain  portion  of  dust.  And 
satire  may  readily  point  bitter  and 
caustic  lines,  as  the  corpse  of  the  own- 
er of  princely  estates  is  borne  along 
to  the  ancient  mausoleum,  in  ail  the 
gloomy  magnificence  which  distin- 
guishes the  obsequies  of  the  great ; 
and  ask,  with  a  sort  of  cutting  severi- 
ty, whether  it  be  not  almost  like  up- 
braiding the  dead,  to  pour  this  stern 
gorgeousness  round  the  most  humbling 
of  earthly  transactions  ?  But  we  have 
no  sympathy  whatsoever  with  this  com- 
mon feeling,  that  there  t^hould  be  no- 
thing of  solemn  pomp  in  consigning 
the  human  body  to  the  grave.  We 
might  have,  if  we  knew  nothing  of  a 
resurrection.  But  not  whilst  we  be- 
lieve in  the  general  Easter  of  this  crea- 
tion. Not  whilst  we  believe  that  the 
grave  is  but  a  temporary  habitation, 
and  that  what  is  "  sown  a  natural  bo- 
dy" is  to  be  "raised  a  spiritual."  The 
funeral  procession  attests,  and  does 
homage  to,  the  doctrine  of  the  resur- 
rection. It  is  not  in  honor  of  the  body- 
as  mouldering  into  dust  that  we  would 
have  decent  rites,  or  even,  where  con- 
sistent with  rank,  a  sumptuous  cere- 
monial attending  its  interment;  but  in 
honor  of  the  body  as  destined  to  come 
forth  gloriously  and  indissolubJy  recon- 


550 


NEHEMIAH    BEFORE    ARTAIERXES. 


structed.  We  have  no  affection  for  the 
proud  monument,  it"  it  were  only  to 
mark  where  the  foul  worm  has  ban- 
queted ;  but  we  look  with  pleasure  on 
the  towering  marble,  as  indicating  a 
spot  where  "the  trump  of  God"  shall 
cause  a  sudden  and  mysterious  stir, 
and  Christ  win  a  triumph  as  ''  the  Re- 
surrection.and  the  life." 

Then  suppose  Nehemiah  acquainted, 
as  we  are,  with  the  doctrine  of  the  re- 
surrection, and  we  do  but  iind  in  the 
emphasis  laid  upon  the  fact,  that  Jeru- 
salem was  tiie  place  of  his  fathers'  se-  I 
piilchres,  the  testimony  of  his  belief  in 
the  truths  of  redemption,  and  of  his 
desire  to  make  and  keep  those  truths 
known  to  the  world.  "  I  cannot  bear," 
he  seems  to  say,  "  that  my  fathers,  who 
once  witnessed  from  their  graves  to 
the  most  illustrious  of  facts,  should  be 
silent  in  the  dust.  I  long  to  give  again 
a  thrilling  voice  to  their  remains:  I 
would  people  their  cemeteries  with 
heralds  of  futurity.  1  may  well  be  down- 
cast when  I  think  of  their  monuments 
as  levelled  with  the  earth  ;  not  because 
I  ostentatiously  desire  that  proud  mar- 
bles may  certify  the  greatness  of  my 
parentage,  but  because  I  would  fain 
that  men  should  thence  draw  evidence 
of  general  judgment  and  eternal  life. 
I  mourn  not  so  much  that  Jerusalem 
has  ceased  to  be  a  queen  among  cities  ; 
I  loncf  not  so  much  that  she  should  rise 
from  her  ashes,  to  be  again  imperuil  m 
beauty:  I  mourn  that  her  desecrated 
graves  speak  no  longer  of  a  resurrec- 
tion ;  I  long  that,  through  respect  for 
the  dead,  she  may  be  again  God's  wit- 
ness of  the  coming  immortality.  Oh, 
Avhy  should  not  my  countenance  be  sad, 
when  the  city,  the  place  of  my  fathers' 
sepulchres,  lieth  waste"?  If  thy  servant 
have  found  favor  in  thy  sight,  O  king, 
send  me  unto  the  city  of  my  fathers' 
sepulchres,  that  I  may  build  it." 

Now  it  is  a  wholly  different,  but  not 
a  less  interesting  subject,  to  v/hich  we 
have  to  give  the  remainder  of  our  dis- 
course. We  are  now  to  detach  our 
minds  from  Nehemiah  pleading  for  his 
fathers'  sepulchres,  and  fix  them  upon 
Nehemiah  addressing  himself  to  God  in 
ejaculatory  prayer.  It  is  among  the 
most  lemarkable  statements  of  the  Bi- 
ble, "  So  I  prayed  to  the  God  of  hea- 
ven," coming,  as  it  does,  between  the 
question  of  the  king,  "  For  what  dost 


thou  make  request'?"  and  the  answer 
of  Nehemiah,  "  That  thou  wouldest 
send  me  unto  the  city  of  my  fathers' 
sepulchres."  There  is  no  interval  of 
time:  Nehemiah  has  had  no  opportu- 
nity of  retiring,  that  he  might  present 
supplications  to  God.  He  has  not  knelt 
down — he  has  given  no  outward  sign, 
unless  perhaps  a  momentary  uplifting 
of  the  eye,  of  holding  communion  with 
an  invisible  being ;  and  nevertheless, 
there,  in  the  midst  of  that  thronged  and 
brjlliant  court,  and  in  the  seconds  that 
might  elapse  between  a  question  and 
its  answer,  he  has  prayed  unto  God  for 
direction  and  strength,  and  received,  as 
we  may  believe,  assistance  from  hea- 
ven. No  one  can  well  doubt  what  it 
was  for  which  Nehemiah  prayed :  it 
may  justly  be  supposed  to  have  been, 
that  God  would  aid  him  in  preferring 
his  request,  and  dispose  Artaxerxes  to 
grant  it.  And  when  you  observe  that 
the  request  appears  to  have  been  at 
once  successful — for  it  pleased  the 
king  to  send  Nehemiah,  and  to  grant 
him  royal  letters,  which  might  lacili- 
tate  the  repairs  of  Jerusalem — you  must 
allow  that  prayer  was  not  only  ofl'ered, 
but  answered,  in  the  moment  which 
seemed  too  brief  for  all  but  a  thought. 
Under  how  practical  and  comforting 
a  point  of  view  does  this  place  the 
truth  of  the  omnipresence  of  God.  It 
is  a  high  mystery,  one  which  quickly 
bewilders  the  understanding,  and  wea- 
ries even  the  imagination,  that  of  God 
being  every  where  present,  incapable, 
from  his  nature,  of  leaving  this  place 
and  passing  to  that,  but  always  and 
equally  occupying  every  spot  in  im- 
mensity, so  as  never  to  be  nearer  to 
us,  and  never  further  from  us,  continu- 
ally at  our  side,  and  yet  continually  at 
the  side  of  every  other  being  in  the 
measureless  universe.  Yet,  with  all  its 
mysteriousness,  this  is  no  merely  sub- 
lime but  barren  speculation,  no  subject 
to  exercise  the  mind  rather  than  bene- 
fit the  heart.  It  should  minister  won- 
drously  to  our  comfort,  to  know  that, 
whether  we  can  explain  it  or  not,  we 
are  always,  so  to  speak,  in  contact 
with  God;  so  that  in  the  crowd  and 
in  the  solitude,  in  the  retirement  of 
the  closet,  the  bustle  of  business,  and 
the  privacies  of  home,  by  day  and  by 
night,  he  is  alike  close  at  hand,  near 
enough  for  every  M'hisper,  and  plente- 


KEHEMIAH    BEFOEE    ARTAXEUXES. 


551 


ous  enough  for  every  want.  It  is  not 
so  with  a  human  patron  or  friend,  who, 
whatever  be  his  power,  and  his  desire 
to  use  it  on  our  behalf,  cannot  always 
be  with  us,  to  observe  each  necessity, 
and  appoint  each  supply.  We  have  to 
seek  out  this  friend  or  patron,  when 
we  require  his  help:  probably  he  is 
distant  from  us  when  the  most  need- 
ed ;  and  we  have  to  send  a  message, 
which  brings  no  reply  till  the  season 
have  passed  when  it  might  be  of  avail. 
How  different  with  God  !  in  less  time 
than  I  can  count,  the  desire  of  my 
heart  may  be  transmitted  to  this  invisi- 
ble Guardian  and  Guide,  hnd  gracious 
audience,  and  bring  down  upon  me  the 
blessing  which  I  need. 

If  there  be  opportunity,  then  truly 
it   may  become   me   to  seek  audience 
with   greater    and   more    palpable   so- 
lemnity, prostrating  myself  reverently 
before   him,   as  the   allglorious  King, 
and    giving   devout   expression  to  my 
wishes  and  wants.    But  it  is  not  indis- 
pensable to  the  audience,   that   there 
should    be    this   outward    prostration, 
and  this  set  supplication.     The  heart 
has  but  to  breathe  its  desire,  and  God 
is  acquainted  with  it  so  soon  as  form- 
ed, and  may  grant  it,  if  he  will,  before 
the  tongue  could  have  given  it  utter- 
ance.   O  that  there  were  in  us  more  of 
that  habit  of  prayer,  which,   as   with 
Nehemiah,  would  not  sufl'er  us  to  make 
request  to  man,  without  first  sending 
up   a  silent   petition   to  God.    When 
Scripture  speaks  of  praying  ''  without 
ceasing,"  and  of  "  continuing  instant 
in  prayer,"  it  is  generally  thought  to 
prescribe  what  cannot  be  actually  done, 
at  least  not  by  them  who  are  necessa- 
rily much  occupied  with  temporal  con- 
cerns.    And  if  there   were  no  prayer 
but  those  most  solemn  and  stated  acts, 
when,  whether  in  private,  or  in  the  pub- 
lic assembly,  we  set  ourselves  specifi- 
cally to  the  spreading  our  wants  before 
our  Father    in   heaven,   these   expres- 
sions of  Holy  Writ  would  have  to  be 
interpreted  with  certain  restrictions,  or 
would  belong  in  their  fulness  to  such 
only  as  might  abstract  themselves  alto- 
gether from  the  world.  But  forasmuch 
as  God  is  always  so  ready  and  able  to 
liear  that  ejaculatory  prayer,  the  sud- 
den utterance  of  the  heart,  when  there 
is  no  place  for  the  bending  of  the  knee, 
and  no  time  even  for  the  motion  of  the 


lip,  may  obtain  instant  audience  and 
answer,  what  is  to  prevent  there  being 
that  devotional  habit  which  shall  fulfil 
the  injunction  of  praying  "  without 
ceasing,"  even  though,  as  with  num- 
bers of  our  race,  there  be  but  few  mo- 
ments in  the  day  which,  snatched  from 
necessary  toil,  can  be  professedly  con- 
secrated to  communion  with  heaven  1 
You  have  heard  of,  and  are  acquaint- 
ed with,  public  prayer,  and  private  pray- 
er, and  family  prayer:  but  the  prayer 
of  which  we  now  speak,  ejaculatory 
prayer,  differs  from  all  these.  As  the 
name  denotes,  the  heart  should  be  as  a 
bow,  kept  always  strung,  ready  at  any 
moment  to  launch  prayer  as  an  arrow; 
a  dart  which,  if  small,  may  yet  go  fast- 
er and  further  than  the  weightier  im- 
plement of  more  labored  attempt.  The 
man  of  business,  he  need  not  enter  on 
a  single  undertaking  without  prayer ; 
the  mariner,  he  need  not  unfurl  a  sail 
without  prayer  ;  the  traveller,  he  need 
not  face  a  danger  without  prayer ;  the 
statesman,  he  need  not  engage  in  a  de- 
bate without  prayer ;  the  invalid,  he 
need  not  try  a  remedy  without  prayer; 
the  accused,  he  need  not  meet  an  ac- 
cuser without  prayer.  Is  it  that  all  and 
each  of  these  must  make  a  clear  scene, 
ask  time  for  retirement,  and  be  left 
for  a  season  alone  with  the  Almighty! 
That  were  impossible :  as  with  Nehe- 
miah, what  is  to  be  done  must  be  done 
on  the  moment,  and  in  the  presence 
of  fellow-men.  And  it  may  be  done. 
Blessed  be  God  for  this  privilege  of 
ejaculatory  prayer,  of  silent,  secret,  in- 
stantaneous petition  !  We  may  live  at 
the  foot  of  the  mercy-seat,  and  yet  be 
immersed  in  merchandise,  engrossed 
with  occupation,  or  pursued  by  a  crowd. 
We  may  hallow  and  enlighten  every, 
thing  by  prayer,  though  we  seem,  and 
are  engaged  from  morning  to  night 
with  secular  business,  and  thronged 
j  by  eager  adherents.  We  cannot  be  in 
'  a  difficulty  for  which  we  have  not  time 
j  to  ask  guidance,  in  a  peril  so  sudden 
I  that  we  cannot  find  a  guardian,  in  a 
spot  so  remote  that  we  may  not  people 
it  with  supporters.  Thought,  whose 
rapid  flight  distances  itself,  moves  but 
!  half  as  quick  as  prayer  :  earth  to  hea- 
1  ven,  and  heaven  again  to  earth,  the 
j  petition  and  the  answer,  both  are  fin- 
j  ished  in  that  indivisible  instant  which 
I  suffices  for  the  mind's  passage  through 


552 


JABEZ. 


infinite  space.  0  that  you  may  not 
neglect  the  privilege,  that  you  may 
cultivate  the  habit,  of  ejaculatory  pray- 
er !  and  that  you  may,  meditate  on  the 
example  of  Nehemiah.  If  I  would  in- 
cite you  to  habits  of  private  devotion, 
'I  might  show  you  Daniel  in  his  cham- 
ber, "kneeling  upon  his  knees  three 
times  a  day."  If  I  would  commend 
to  you  the  public  gatherings  of  the 
church,  I  might  remind  you  of  what 
David  has  said,  "A  day  in  thy  courts 
is  better  than  a  thousand."  If  I  would 
inculcate  the  duty  of  family  prayer,  I 
might  turn  attention  to  Philemon,  and 
"  the  church  in  his  house."  But,  wish- 
ing to  make  you  carry,  as  it  were,  the 
altar  about  with  yon — the  fire  ever 
burning,  the  censer  ever  ready, — wish- 
ing that  you-  may  resolve  nothing,  at- 
tempt nothing,  face  nothing,  without 
prayer  to  God  for  his  ever-mighty 
grace,  I  give  you  for  a  pattern  Ne- 
hemiah— who,  asked  by  Artaxerxes 
for  what  he  made  request,  tells  you, 
"  So  I  prayed  to  the  God  of  heaven, 
and  I  said  unto  the  king.  Send  me  unto 
Judah,  the  city  of  the  sepulchres  of  my 
fathers." 

There  is  nothing  that  we  need  add 
in  the  way  of  concluding  exhortation. 
The  latter  part,  at  least,  of  our  subject 


has  been  so  eminently  practical,  that 
we  should  fear  to  weaken  the  impres- 
sion by  repetition.  Only,  if  there  be 
any  thing  sacred  and  touching  in  the 
sepulchres  of  our  fathers  j  if  the  spot, 
where  those  dear  to  us  sleep,  seem 
haunted  by  their  memory,  so  that  it 
were  like  forgetting  or  insulting  them 
to  suffer  it  to  be  defiled,  let  us  remem- 
ber that  the  best  monument  we  can 
rear  to  the  righteous  is  our  copy  of 
their  excellence — not  the  record  of 
their  virtues  graven  on  the  marble  or 
on  the  brass,  but  their  example  repeat- 
ed in  our  actions  and  habits.  If  with 
Nehemiah  we  would  show  respect  to 
the  dead,  with  Nehemiah  let  us  strive 
to  be  useful  to  the  living.  Then,  wliea 
sepulchres  shall  crumble,  not  through 
human  neglect,  but  because  the  Al- 
mighty bids  them  give  back  their  prej-, 
we  may  hope  to  meet  our  fathers  in 
the  triumph  and  the  gloriousness  of 
immortality.  Our  countenances  shall 
not  be  sad,  though  "  the  place  of  their 
sepulchres  lieth  waste,  and  the  gates 
thereof  are  consumed  with  fire,"  even 
with  the  last  tremendous  conflagra- 
tion ;  we  shall  exult  in  knowing  that 
they  and  we  "  have  a  building  of  God, 
a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal 
in  the  heavens." 


SERMON    XIV 


JABEZ.* 


'■  And  Jabez  was  more  honorable  than  his  brethren,  and  his  mother  called  his  name  Jabcz,  sar. 
in<',  Because  I  bare  him  with  sorrow.  And  Jabez  called  on  the  God  of  Israel,  saying-,  Oh  ihat 
thou  wouldest  bless  me  indeed,  and  enlarge  my  coa.st,  and  that  thine  hand  might  be  -ui'.h  me, 
and  that  thou  wouldest  keep  me  Irom  evil,  that  it  may  not  grieve  me  !  And  God  granted  him 
that  which  he  requested."—!  Chron.  4  :  9, 10. 


If  we  had  to  fix  on  a  portion  of  Scrip- 
ture which  might  be  removed  from  our 


Bibles  without  being  much  missed,  we 
should  probably  select  the  first  nine 
chapters  of  this  first  Book  of  Chroni- 

n- 


•  This  Sermon  was  preached  on  New  Year  s  ,    |  ^  record  of  name-^   •>  cat- 

dav   and  a  collection  was  afterwards  made  in    ^^^^'     ^  ^^^^  lecoru  oi  names,  ..  cat. 
nid  of  a  District  Visiting  Societv.  'off^e  of  genealogies  j  the  eye  glance 


553 


rapidly  over  them,  and  we  are  inclined 
to  hasten  on  to  parts  which  may  pre- 
sent somethinT  more  interesting'  and 
instructive.  Yet  what  a  startling,  what 
an  impressive  thing,  should  be  a  record 
of  names,  a  catalogue  of  genealogies  ! 
the  chapters  deserve  the  closest  atten- 
tion, even  if  you  keep  out  of  sight  their 
bearing  on  the  descent  and  parentage 
of  the  Christ.  It  is  a  New  Year's  day 
sermon,  this  long  list  of  fathers  and 
their  children.  What  are  all  these 
names  which  fill  page  after  page  1  The 
names  of  beings  who  were  once  as 
warm  with  life  as  ourselves.;  who 
moved  upon  the  earth  as  we  move 
now;  who  had  their  joys,  their  sor- 
rows, their  hopes,  their  fears,  their 
projects ;  who  thought,  perhaps,  as 
little  of  death  as  many  of  us,  but  who 
were  sooner  or  later  cut  down,  even 
as  all  now  present  shall  be.  They  are 
the  names  of  those  who  once  lived; 
nay,  they  are  names  of  those  who  still 
live;  and  this  is  perhaps  even  the 
harder  to  realize  of  the  two.  The 
dead  are  not  dead ;  they  have  but 
changed  their  place  of  sojourn.  The 
mighty  catalogue,  which  it  wearies  us 
to  look  at,  is  not  a  mere  register  of 
those  who  have  been,  of  trees  of  the 
forest  which,  having  flourished  their 
appointed  time,  have  withered  or  been 
cut  down  ;  it  fs  a  register  of  existing, 
intelligent,  sentient  creatures;  not  one 
who  has  been  inscribed  on  the-  scroll 
which,  headed  by  Adam,  looks  like  a 
leaf  from  the  volume  of  eternity,  has 
ever  passed  into  nothingness  :  written 
amongst  the  living,  he  was  written 
amongst  the  immortal ;  earth  might 
receive  his  dust,  but  his  spirit,  which 
is  more  nearly  himself,  has  never 
known  even  a  suspension  of  being: 
thousands  of  years  ago  the  man  was ; 
at  this  moment  the  man  is  ;  thousands 
of  years  to  come  the  man  shall  be. 

We  repeat  it — there  is  something 
very  hard  to  realize  in  this  fact,  that 
all  who  have  ever  lived  arc  still  alive.* 
We  talk  of  an  over-peopled  coun- 
try, even  of  an  over-peopled  globe — 
where  and  what,  then,  is  the  territory 
into  which  s'eneration  after  g-cneration 
has  been  swept,  the  home  of  the  un- 


told myriads,  the  rich,  the  poor,  the 
mighty,  the  mean,  the  old,  the  young, 
the  righteous,  the  wicked,  who,  hav- 
ing once  been  reckoned  amongst  men, 
must  everlastingly  remain  inscribed  in 
I  the  chronicles  of  the  race  ;  inscribed 
in  them,  not  as  beings  which  have  been, 
but  as  beings  which  are^.  We  have  all 
heard  of  the  dissolute  man,  said  to  have 
been  converted  through*  hearing  the 
fifth  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Genesis, 
in  which  mention  is  made  of  the  long 
lives  of  Adam,  Seth,  Enos,  Methuse- 
lah, and  others,  and  each  notice  is 
concluded  with  the  words,  '^  and  he 
died."  It  came  appallingly  home  to 
the  dissolute  man,  that  the  most  pro- 
tracted life  must  end  at  last  in  death  ; 
he  could  not  get  rid  of  the  fact  that 
life  had  to  terminate,  and  he  found  no 
peace  till  he  had  provided  that  it  might 
terminate  well.  But  suppose  that  each 
notice  had  been  concluded,  as  it  might 
have  been,  with  the  words,  "  and  he 
lives,"  would  there  not  have  been  as 
much,  would  there  not  have  been  more 
to  startle  and  seize  upon  the  dissolute 
man  '?  "  He  died,"  does  not  necessa- 
rily involve  a  state  of  retribution  ;  "he 
lives,"  crowds  the  future  with  images 
of  judgment  and  recompense.  You 
hear  men  often  say,  in  regard  of  some- 
thing which  has  happened,  something 
which  they  have  lost,  something  which 
they  have  done,  or  something  which 
they  have  suffered,  "  Oh,  it  will  be  all 
the  same  a  hundred  years  hence !" 
All  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence  ! 
far  enough  from  that.  They  speak  as 
if  they  should  certainly  be  dead  a  hun- 
dred years  hence,  and  as  if,  therefore, 
it  would  then  necessarily  have  become 
unimportant  what  turn  or  course  events 
may  have  taken.  Whereas,  they  will 
be  as  truly  alive  a  hundred  years  hence 
as  they  are  now;  and  it  will  not  be  the 
same  a  hundred  years  hence  whether 
this  thing  happened  or  that,  this  action 
were  performed  or  that.  For  there  is 
nothing  so  trivial  but  that  it  may  affect 
man's  future  being:  in  the  moral  world, 
as  in  the  physicfil,  "  no  motion  im- 
pressed by  natural  causes,  or  by  human 
agency,  is  ever  obliterated  ;"*  of  what, 


*  This  fact  is  excellently  treated  iu  a  striking 
sermon  b}'  Mr.  Newman,  on  "  the  Individuality 
of  the  Soul." 


*  Babbage,the  ninth  Bridge  water  Treatise. — 

"  What  a  strange  chaos  is  this  wide  atmosphere 

■we  breathe  I    Every  atom,  impressed  with  good 

and  with  ill,  retains  at  once  the  motions  which 

70 


iSi 


I  A  B  E  Z  , 


then,  dare  we  affirm,  tliut,  let  it  be  as  it 
may,  it  will  be  all  the  same  a  hun- 
dred, or  a  thousand,  or  a  million  years 
hence  1 

We  recur,  then,  to  what  gave  rise  to 
these  remarks  ;  the  long  lists  of  names 
which  occupy  the  first  nine  chapters 
of  this  First  Book  of  Chronicles.  We 
affirm  of  these  lists,  that,  without  any 
comment,  they  furnish  a  most  appro- 
priate sermon  for  A^ew  Year's  day. 
Names  of  the  dead,  and  yet  names  of 
the  living,  how  should  their  mere  enu- 
)ueration  suggest  the  thought  of  our 
days  upon  earth  being  as  a  shadow, 
and  yet  of  those  days  being  days  of 
probation  for  an  everlasting  existence! 
And  what  thought  is  so  fitted  to  New 
Year's  day,  when,  as  we  commence 
one  of  the  great  divisions  of  time,  the 
very  season  might  seem  to  speak  of 
the  rapid  flight  of  life,  and  of  the  con- 
sequent duty  of  attempting  forthwith 
preparation  for  the  future  1  To  read 
these  chapters  of  the  Chronicles,  is  like 
entering  a  vast  cemetery  where  sleep 
the  dead  of  many  generations.  But  a 
cemetery  is  the  place  for  a  New  Year's 
day  meditation,  seeing  that  we  have 
just  consigned  the  old  year  to  the 
grave,  with  its  joys,  its  sorrows,  its 
plans,  its  events,  its  mercies,  its  sins. 
And  are  they  dead,  the  multitudes 
whose  names  are  inscribed  on  the 
gloomy  walls  and  crowded  stones  of 
the  cemetery,  Gomer,  and  Javan,  and 
Tubal,  and  Nahor  1  Nay,  not  so  :  their 
dust   indeed  is  beneath  our  feet,  but 

philosophers  and  sages  have  imparted  to  it, 
mixed  and  combined  in  ten  thousand  wa3's  with 
all  that  is  worthless  and  base.  The  air  itself  is 
one  vast  library,  on  whose  pages  are  lor  ever 
written  all  that  man  has  ever  said,  or  ever  whis- 
pered. There,  in  their  mutable  but  unerring 
characters,  mixed  with  the  earliest  as  well  as 
the  latest  sighs  of  mortality,  stand  for  ever  re- 
corded, vows  unredeemed,  promises  nnl'uUilled, 
perpetuating,  in  the  united  movements  of  each 
particle,  the  testimony  of  man's  changeful  will. 
"  If  the  Almighty  stamped  on  the  brow  of  the 
earliest  murderer  the  indelible  and  visible 
mark  of  his  guilt,  he  has  also  established  laM's 
by  which  every  succeeding  criminal  is  not 
less  irrevocably  chained  to  the  testimony  of  his 
crime;  for  every  atom  of  his  mortal  fraaie, 
through  whatever  changes  its  severed  particles 
may  migrate,  will  still  retain,  adhering  to  it 
through  every  combination,  some  movement 
derived  from  that  very  muscular  effort  by 
which  the  crime  itseljf  was  perpetrated." — 
Chapter  ix.  "  On  the  Permanent  Impression  of 
our  Words  and  Actions  on  the  Globe  we  in- 
habit." 


even  that  dust  shall  live  again  ;  and  all 
the  while  their  spirits,  conscious  slill, 
sentient  still,  occupy  some  unknown  re- 
gion, miserable  or  happy  beyond  what 
they  €ver  were  upon  earth,  though  re- 
served for  yet  more  of  wretchedness  or 
gladness  at  an  approaching  resurrec- 
tion and  general  judgment.  Neither  is 
the  past  year  dead  :  not  a  moment  of 
it  but  lives  and  breathes,  not  one  of  its 
buried  occurrences  that  has  not  a  pre- 
sent existence,  exercising  some  mea- 
sure of  influence  over  our  actual  con- 
dition, and  reserved  to  exercise  a  yet 
stronger,  when  it  shall  come  forth  as  a 
witness  at  the  last  dread  assize,  bear- 
ing testimony  which  must  help  to  de- 
termine whether  we  are  to  be  for  ever 
with  the  Lord,  or  banished  for  ever 
from  the  light  of  his  presence.  Thus 
these  registered  names  miffht  them- 
selves  serve  as  an  appropriate  sermon, 
God  is  witness  that  it  is  in  perfect  sin- 
cerity, and  with  every  sentiment  of 
christian  afTection,  that,  adopting  the 
customary  language,  1  wish  you  all  a 
happy  new  year.  But  I  must  give  a 
voice  to  the  old  year.  It  must  speak  to 
you  from  its  sepulchre.  No  burying 
of  the  past  as  though  it  were  never  to 
revive.  No  reading  of  names  in  the 
Chronicles  as  though  they  were  names 
of  those  who  have  altogether  ceased  to 
be.  Oh,  I  wish  you  a  happy  new  year  j 
but  happy  it  shall  not,  cannot  be,  in 
any  sueh  sense  as  befits  beings  of  such 
origin,  such  capacity,  such  destiny  as 
yourselves,  unless  you  bear  diligently 
in  mind  that  you  are  mortal,  yet  can- 
not die  ;  that  things  may  be  past,  yet 
cannot  perish;  that  days  may  be  for- 
gotten, but  never  can  forget. 

We  should  receive,  however,  a 
wrong  impression  in  regard  of  these 
chapters  of  the  First  Book  of  Chroni- 
cles, were  we  to  suppose  them  valua- 
ble only  on  such  accounts  as  have  al- 
ready been  indicated.  They  are  not  a 
mere  record  of  names,  though,  on  a 
cursory  glance,  we  might  conclude 
that  they  contained  nothing  else,  and 
that  therefore,  after  one  or  two  gene- 
ral reflections,  we  might  safely  pro- 
ceed to  more-  instructive  portions  of 
Scripture.  Interspersed  with  the  names, 
there  occur,  here  and  there,  brief,  but 
pregnant,  notices  of  persons  and  things, 
as  though  inserted  to  reward  the  dili- 
gent student,  who,  in  place  of  taking 


J  A  B  E  Z  . 


555 


for  granted  that  a  catalogue  of  names 
could  not  be  worth  reading,  should 
go  through  it  with  all  care,  fearing  to 
miss  some  word  of  information  or  ad- 
monition. 

Our  text  is  a  remarkable  case  in 
point.  Here  is  a  chapter  which  seems 
made  up  of  genealogies  and  names. 
Let  me  skip  it,  might  be  the  feeling  of 
the  reader  ;  what  good  can  I  get  from 
learning  that  "  Penuel  was  the  father 
of  Gedor,  and  Ezer  the  father  of  Hu- 
shah  1"  But  if  he  were  to  skip  it  he 
would  miss  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  interesting  passages  in  the  Bible, 
for  such,  we  think  to  show  you,  is  a 
just  description  of  our  text.  We  know 
nothing  whatsoever  of  the  Jabez  here 
commemorated  beyond  what  we  find  in 
these  two  verses.  But  this  is  enough 
to  mark  him  out  as  worthy,  in  no  ordi- 
nary degree,  of  being  admired  and  imi- 
tated. There  is  a  depth,  and  a  compre- 
hensiveness, in  the  registered  prayer 
of  this  unknown  individual — unknown 
except  from  that  prayer — which  should 
suffice  to  make  him  a  teacher  of  the 
righteous  in  every  generation.  And  if 
we  wanted  a  prajj^er  especially  suited 
to  New  Year's  daj^,  where  could  we 
find  more  appropriate  utterances  ?  If 
we  Would  begin,  as  we  ought  to  begin, 
the  year  with  petitions  that  such  por- 
tion of  it  as  God  may  appoint  us  to 
spend  upon  earth  may  be  spent  in 
greater  spiritual  enlargement,  in  deep- 
er purity  of  heart  and  of  life,  and  in 
more  abundant  experience  of  the  good- 
ness of  the  Lord,  than  may  have  mark- 
ed the  past  year,  what  more  copious, 
more  adequate,  expressions  could  any 
one  of  us  use  than  these,  "  Oh  that 
thou  wouldest  bless  me  indeed,  and 
enlarge  my  coast,  and  that  thine  hand 
might  be  with  me,  and  that  thou 
wouldest  keep  me  from  evil  that  it 
may  not  grieve  me  1"  Happy,  happy 
man,  happy  woman,  happy  child,  who 
should  pray  this  prayer  in  faith,  and 
thus  insure  that  it  shall  have  to  be 
said,  as  of  Jabez,  ''  And  God  granted 
him  that  which  he  requested."  But 
this  is  anticipating  our  subject.  Let 
us  now  take  the  several  parts  of  the 
text  in  succession,  commenting  upon 
each,  and  searching  out  the  lessons 
which  may  be  useful  to  ourselves.  The 
first  verse  contains  a  short  account  of 
Jabez  ;  the  second  is  occupied  by  his 


•  prayer.    Come,  and  let  us  see  whether 
I  there  be  not  something  to  instruct  us 
[  even  in  the  brief  narrative  of  his  life, 
,  and  whether,    as  "strangers    and   pil- 
grims   upon  earth,"  with    a  battle   to 
fight,  a  race  to  run,  an  inheritance  to 
possess,  we  can  find  more  appropriate 
'  supplications  than  those  in  which  this 
j  Jabez  called  on  the  Lord  God  of  Israel. 
!      Now  there  is  no  denying — for  it   is 
[  forced    on    us    by    every    day's    expe- 
I  rience — that  we  are   short-sighted  be- 
,  ings,  so  little  able  to  look  into  the  fu- 
I  ture   that  we    constantly   miscalculate 
j  as  to  what  would  be  for  our  good,  an- 
!  ticipating   evil  from  what   is  working 
I  for  benefit,  and  reckoning  upon  bene- 
j  fit  from  that  which  may  prove  fraught 
I  with  nothing  but  evil.     How  frequent- 
ly does  that  which  we  have  baptized 
with  our  tears  make  the  countenance 
sunny    with    smiles!    how   frequently, 
again,  does  that  which  we  have  wel- 
comed   with    smiles    wring    from    us 
tears  !     That  which  has  raised  anxious 
thoughts  proves  often  a  rich  source  of 
joy  ;  and,  as  often,  that  which  hardly 
cost  us  a  care,  so  bright  was  its  pro- 
mise, wounds  to  the  quick,  and  bur- 
dens us  Avith  grief.    We  do  not  know 
the  particular  reasons  which  influenced 
the   mother   of  Jabez   to   call  him  by 
that  name,  a  name  which  means  "Sor- 
rowful."   We  are   merely  told,   ''  His 
mother    called    his   name   Jabez,   say- 
ing, because  I  bare  him  with  sorrow." 
Whether    it    were    that    she    brought 
forth  this  son  with  more  than  common 
anguish,  or  whether,  as  it  may  have 
been,  the  time   of  his  birth  were  the 
time    of  her  widowhood,  so  that  the 
child    came    and   found   no    father   to 
welcome    him — the   mother   evidently 
felt  but  little  of  a  mother's  joy,  and 
looked  on  her  infant  with  forebodings 
and   fears.    Perhaps    it    could   hardly 
have   been    her  own   bodily   suffering 
which  made  her  fasten  on  the  boy  a 
dark  and  gloomy  appellation,  for,  the 
danger  past,   she   would   rather    have 
given  a  name   commemorative  of  de- 
liverance, remembering  "  no  more  her 
anguish  for  joy  that  a  man  was  born 
into  the  world."    Indeed,  when  Rachel 
bare    Benjamin,   she    called  his   name 
Benoni,  that  is,  the  son  of  my  sorrow ; 
but  then  it  was  "  as  her  soul  was  in  de- 
parting, for  she  died."  And  when  there 
pressed  upon  a  woman  in  her  travail 


556 


J  A  B  E  Z  . 


heavier  things  than  her  bodily  pains —  . 
as  with  the  wife  of  Phinehas,  to  whom 
were  brought  sad  "  tidings  that  the  ark 
of  God  was  taken,  and  that  her  father- 
in-law  and  her  husband  were  dead  " — 
the  mind  could  fix  on  the  more  fatal 
facts,  and  perpetuate  their  remem- 
brance through  the  name  of  the  child ; 
she  called — and  it  was  with  her  last 
breath,  for  she  too,  like  Rachel,  died — 
she  called  the  child  Ichabod,  "  saying. 
The  glory  is  departed  from  Israel,  for 
the  ark  of  God  is  taken." 

We  may  well,  therefore,  suppose 
that  the  mother  of  Jabez  had  deeper 
and  more  lasting  sorrows  to  register 
in  the  name  of  her  boy  than  those  of 
the  giving  him  birth.  And  whatsoever 
may  have  been  the  cause,  whether  do- 
mestic affliction  or  public  calamity, 
we  may  consider  the  woman  as  having 
bent  in  bitterness  over  her  new-born 
child,  having  only  tears  to  give  him  as 
his  welcome  to  the  world,  and  feeling 
it  impossible  to  associate  with  hini 
even  a  hope,  of  happiness.  She  had 
probably  looked  with  difTerent  senti- 
ments on  her  other  children.  She  had 
clasped  them  to  her  breast  with  all  a 
mother's  gladness,  and  gazed  upon 
them  in  the  fond  anticipation,  of  their 
proving  the  supports  and  comforts  of 
her  own  declining  years.  But  with 
Jabez  it  was  all  gloom  ;  the  mother 
felt  as  if  she  could  never  be  happy 
again:  this  boy  brought  nothing  but 
an  accession  of  care,  anxiety,  and 
grief;  and  if  she  must  give  him  a 
name,  let  it  be  one  which  may  always 
remind  himself  and  others  of  the  dark 
heritage  to  which  he  had  been  born. 
And  yet  the  history  of  the  family  is 
gathered  into  the  brief  sentence,  "Ja- 
bez was  more  honorable  than  his 
brethren."  The  child  of  sorrow  out- 
stripped all  the  others  in  those  things 
which  are  "  acceptable  to  God,  and  ap- 
proved of  men."  Nothing  is  told  us  of 
his  brethren,  except  that  they  were 
less  honorable  than  himself;  they  too 
may  have  been  excellent,  and  perhaps 
as  much  is  implied,  but  Jabez  took  the 
l'3ad,  and  whether  or  not  the  youngest 
i  1  years,  surpassed  every  other  in  piety 
and  renown.  Oh,  if  the  mother  lived 
to  see  the  manhood  of  her  sons,  how 
strangely  must  the  name  Jabez,  a  name 
probably  given  in  a  moment  of  despon- 
dency and  faithlessness,  have  fallen  on 


her  ear,  as  it  was  woven  into  message 
after  message,  each  announcing  that 
the  child  of  sorrow  was  all  that  the 
most  affectionate  parent  could  wish, 
and  more  than  the  most  aspiring  could 
have  hoped.  She  may  then  have  re- 
gretted the  gloomy  and  ominous 
name,  feeling  as  though  it  reproached 
her  for  having  yielded  to  her  grief, 
and  allowed  herself  to  give  way  to 
dreary  forebodings.  It  may  have  seem- 
ed to  her  as  a  standing  memorial  of  her 
want  of  confidence  in  God,  and  of  the 
falseness  of  human  calculations;  and 
as  she  embraced  Jabez,  whose  every 
action  endeared,  as  it  ennobled  him  the 
more,  she  may  have  felt  that  the  sor- 
row had  to  be  transferred  from  the 
name  to  her  own  heart;  she  herself 
had  to  grieve,  bat  only  that,  through 
mistrust  of  the  Lord,  she  had  recorded, 
her  fear  where  she  should  have  exhi- 
bited her  faith. 

And  is  not  this  brief  notice  of  the 
mother  of  Jabez  full  of  warning  and 
admonition  to  ourselves  1  How  ready 
are  we  to  give  the  name  Jabez  to  per- 
sons or  things,  w^hich,  could  we  but 
look  into  God's  purpose,  or  repose  on 
his  promise,  we  might  regard  as  de- 
signed to  minister  permanently  to  our 
security  and  happiness.  "All  these 
things,"  said  the  patriarch  Jacob,  "  are 
against  me,"  as  one  trial  after  another 
fell  to  his  lot :  if  he  had  been  asked  to 
name  each  event,  the  loss  of  Joseph, 
the  binding  of  Simeon,  the  sending 
away  of  Benjamin,  he  would  have 
written  Jabez  upon  each — so  dark  did 
it  seem  to  him,  so  sure  to  work  only 
wo.  And  yet,  as  you  all  know,  it  was 
by  and  through  these  gloomy  dealings 
that  a  merciful  God  was  providing  for 
the  sustenance  of  the  patriarch  and  his 
household,  for  their  support  and  ag- 
grandizement in  a  season  of  extraordi- 
nary pressure.  As  Joseph  said  to  his 
brethren,  "  God  did  send  me  before 
you  to  preserve  life" — what  man  would 
have  named  Jabez  was  God's  minister 
for  good.  Thus  it  continually  happens 
in  regard  of  ourselves.  We  give  the 
sorrowful  title  to  that  which  is  design- 
ed for  the  beneficen  t  end.  Judging 
only  by  present  appearances,  allowing 
our  fears  and  feelings,  rather  than  our 
I  faith,  to  take  the  estimate  or  fix  the 
I  character  of  occurrences,  we  look  with 
I  gloom  on  our  friends,  and  with  melan- 


J  A  B  E  Z  . 


557 


choly  on  our  sources  of  good.  Sick- 
ness, we  call  it  Jabez,  though  it  may 
be  sent  to  minister  to  our  spiritual 
health  ;  poverty,  we  call  it  Jabez, 
though  coming  to  help  us  to  the  pos- 
session of  heavenly  riches  ;  bereave- 
ment, we  call  it  Jabez,  though  design- 
ed to  graft  us  more  closely  into  the 
household  of  God.  O  for  a  better 
judgment!  or  rather,  O  for  a  simpler 
faith!  We  cannot  indeed  see  the  end 
from  the  beginning,  and  therefore  can- 
not be  sure  that  what  rises  in  cloud 
will  set  in  vermilion  and  gold;  but  we 
need  not  take  upon  ourselves  to  give 
the  dark  name,  as  though  we  could  not 
be  deceived  in  regard  of  the  nature. 
The  mother  of  him  who  proved  "more 
honorable  than  his  brethren"  may  have 
been  unable  to  prognosticate  aught  but 
sorrow  for  and  from  this  child — so 
much  of  threatening  aspect  may  have 
hung  round  his  entrance  upon  life — 
but  she  should  have  called  him  by 
a  name  expressive  of  dependence  on 
God,  rather  than  of  despondency  and 
soreness  of  heart. 

Let  us  derive  this  lesson  from  the 
concise  but  striking  narrative  in  the 
first  verse  of  our  text.  Let  us  neither 
look  con.fidently  on  what  promises  best, 
nor  despairingly  on  what  wears  the 
most  threatening  appearance.  God  of- 
ten wraps  up  the  withered  leaf  of  dis- 
appointment in  the  bright  purple  bud, 
and  as  often  enfolds  the  golden  flower 
of  enjoyment  in  the  nipped  and  blight- 
ed shoot.  Experience  is  full  of  evi- 
dence that  there  is  no  depending  on 
appearances  ;  that  things  turn  out 
widely  different  from  what  could  have 
been  anticipated:  the  child  of  most 
promise  perhaps  living  to  pierce  as 
with  a  sword,  the  child  of  least,  to  ap- 
ply balsam  to  the  wound  ;  events  which 
have  menaced  ministering  to  happi 
ness,  and  those  which  have  come  like 
enemies  doing  the  office  of  friends. 
So  that,  if  there  be  one  duty  more 
pressed  upon  us  by  what  we  might  ob- 
serve than  another,  it  is  that  of  wait- 
ing meekly  upon  the  Lord,  never  che-  1 
rishing  a  wish  that  we  might  choose  { 
for  ourselves,  and  never  allowing  a 
doubt  that  he  orders  all  for  our  good. 
Oh,  be  careful  that  you  pronounce  not 
harshly  of  his  dealings,  that  you  pro- 
voke him  not  by  speaking  as  though 
you  could  see  through   his   purpose, 


and  decide  on  its  being  one  of  unmix- 
ed calamity.  If  you  are  so  ready  with 
your  gloomy  names,  he  may  suspend 
his  gracious  designs.  If,  in  a  spirit  of 
repining  or  unbelief,  you  brand  as  Ja- 
bez what  may  be  but  a  blessing  in  dis- 
guise, no  marvel  if  sometimes,  in  just 
anger  and  judgment,  he  allov/  the  title 
to  prove  correct,  and  suffer  not  this 
Jabez,  this  child  born  in  sorrow,  to 
become  to  you,  as  otherwise  it  might, 
more  honorable,  more  profitable,  than 
any  of  its  brethren. 

But  let  us  now  turn  to  the  prayer  of 
Jabez  :  there  might  be  a  sermon  made 
on  each  petition  ;  but  we  must  con- 
tent ourselves  with  a  brief  comment 
on  the  successive  requests.  Yet  we 
ought  not  to  examine  the  prayer  with- 
out pausing  to  observe  to  whom  it  is 
addressed  .It  is  not  stated  that  Jabez 
called  on  God,  but  on  "the  God  of  Is- 
rael ;"  and,  unimportant  as  this  may 
seem  on  a  cursory  glance,  it  is  a  par- 
ticular which,  duly  pondered,  will  be 
found  full  of  beauty  and  interest. 

There  are  few  things  more  signifi- 
cant than  the  difference  in  the  manner 
in  which  God  is  addressed  by  saints 
under  the  old  and  under  the  new  dis- 
pensation.   Patriarchs  pray  to  God  as 
the    God    of   their    fathers ;     Apostles 
pray  to  him  as  the  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  In  both  forms  of  address 
there  is  an  intimation  of  the  same  fact, 
that  we  need  something  to  encourage 
us  in  approaching  unto  God ;  that,  ex- 
posed as  we  are  to  his  just  Avrath  for 
our  sins,  we  can  have  no  confidence 
in  speaking  to  him  as  to  absolute  Dei- 
ty.   There  must  be  something  to  lean 
upon,  some  plea  to  urge,  otherwise  we 
can  but  -shrink   from  the  presence  of 
One  so  awful  in  his  gloriousness ;  our 
lips  must  be  sealed ;   for  what  can  it 
avail  that  corrupt  creatures  should  ask 
mercies  from  a  Being,  all  whose  attri- 
butes pledge   him  to   the    pouring   on 
them  vengeance  1     They  may  tell  you 
that  prayer  is  the  voice  of  nature — but 
it  is  of  nature  in  utter  ignorance  of  it- 
self and  of  God.  The  savage  offers  his 
petitions  to  the  unknown  spirit   of  the 
mountain  or  the  flood  ;  yes — to  the  un- 
known spirit :  let  the  savage  be  better 
informed  as  to  what  God  is,  let  him  be 
also  taught  as  to  what  himself  is,  and 
he  will  be  more  disposed  to  the  silence 
of  despair  than  to  the  importunity  of 


558 


J  A  EEZ. 


supplication.  We  must,  then,  have 
some  title  with  which  to  address  God 
— some  title  which,  interfering  not 
with  his  majesty  or  his  mysterious- 
ness,  may  yet  place  him  under  a  cha- 
racter which  shall  give  hope. to  the 
sinful  as  they  prostrate  themselves  be- 
fore him.  We  need  not  say,  that,  un- 
der the  Gospel  dispensation,  this  title 
should  be  that  which  is  used  by  St.  Paul, 
"  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
Having  such  a  Mediator  through  whom 
to  approach,  there  is  no  poor  suppli- 
cant who  may  not  come  with  boldness 
to  the  mercy-seat.  But  under  earlier 
dispensations,  when  the  mediatorial  of- 
fice was  but  imperfectly  made  known, 
men  had  to  seize  on  other  pleas  and 
encouragements ;  and  then  it  was  a 
great  thing,  that  they  could  address 
God,  as  you  continually  hnd  him  ad- 
dressed, as  the  God  of  Israel,  the  God 
of  their  fathers,  the  God  of  Abraham, 
of  Isaac,  and  of  Jacob.  The  title  assur- 
ed them  that  God  was  ready  to  hear 
prayer  and  to  answer  it.  They  went 
before  God,  thronged,  as  it  were,  with 
remembrances  of  mercies  bestowed, 
deliverances  vouchsafed,  evils  avert- 
ed: how  could  they  fear  that  God 
was  too  great  to  be  addressed,  too 
occupied  to  reply,  or  too  stern  to 
show  kindness,  when  they  bore  in 
mind  how  he  had  shielded  their  pa- 
rents, hearkened  to  their  cry,  and  prov- 
ed himself  unto  them  ''a  very  present 
help"  in  all  time  of  trouble  1 

Ah,  and  though  under  the  new  dis- 
pensation, ''  the  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ"  be  the  great  character 
under  which  God  should  be  address- 
ed by  us  in  prayer,  there  is  no  need 
for  our  altogether  'dropping  the  title, 
the  God  of  our  fathers.  It  might  of- 
ten do  much  to  cheer  a  sorrowful 
heart  and  to  encourage  a  timid,  to  ad- 
dress God  as  the  God  of  our  fathers. 
The  God  in  whom  my  parents'  trusted, 
the  God  who  heard  my  parents'  cries, 
the  God  who  supplied  my  parents' 
wants — oh,  there  is  many  a  poor  wan- 
derer Avho  would  be  more  encouraged, 
and  more  admonished,  through  such 
a  remembrance  of  God  as  this,  than 
through  all  the  definitions  of  a  rigid 
theology.  There  are  some  here — the 
mother  did  not,  indeed,  give  them  the 
name  Jabez  at  their  birth  ;  she  looked 
on  them  hopefully,  with  eyes  brimful 


of  gladness;  but  they  have  since  sore- 
ly wrung  the  hearts  of  their  parents — 
disobedient,  dissipated,  thankless,  that 
sharper  thing,  it  is  said,  than  the  tooth 
of  the  serpent.  There  are  some  such 
here;  some  who  helped  to  bring  down 
a  father's  "grey  hairs  with  sorrow 
to  the  grave  :"  others,  whose  parents 
still  survive ;  but  if  you  could  look 
in  unexpectedly  on  those  parents,  you 
might  often  find  them  shedding  scald- 
ing tears,  shedding  them  on  account 
of  a  child  who  is  lo  them  a  Jabez,  as 
causing  only  grief,  whatever  brighter 
name  they  gave  him  amid  the  hopes 
and  promises  of  baptism.  AV'^e  speak 
to  those  of  you  whose  consciences 
bear  witness,  that  their  parents  would 
have  predicted  but  truth  had  they 
named  them  Jabez,  that  is,  sorrowful. 
We  want  to  bring  you  to  begin  the 
new  year  with  resolutions  of  amend- 
ment and  vows  of  better  things.  But 
resolutions  and  vows  are  worth  noth- 
ing, except  as  made  in  God's  strength 
and  dependence  on  his  grace.  And. 
therefore  must  you  pray  to  God  :  it 
were  vain  to  hope  any  thing  from  you 
unless  you  will  g;ve  yourselves  to 
prayer.  But  how  shall  you  address 
God,  the  God  whom  you  have  neglect- 
ed, the  God  whom  you  have  provoked, 
the  God  of  whom  you  might  justly 
fear,  that  he  is  too  high,  too  holy,  and 
too  just,  to  receive  petitions  from  such 
as  yourselves^  Oh,  we  might  give 
you  lofty  titles,  but  they  would  only 
bewilder  you ;  we  might  deline  him 
by  his  magnificent  attributes,  but  they 
would  rather  terrify  than  encourage 
you.  But  it  may  soften,  and  at  the 
same  time  strengthen  you;  it  may  aid 
your  contrition,  wring  from  you  tears, 
and  yet  fill  you  with  hope,  to  go  be- 
fore God  with  all  the  imagery  around 
you  of  the  home  of  your  childhood, 
the  mind's  eye  arraying  the  reverend 
forms  of  those  who  gave  you  birth,  as 
they  kneel  down  in  anguish,  and^cry 
unto  the  Lord — ay,  cry  on  your  be- 
half, and  cry  not  in  vain ;  for  it  may 
be  in  answer  to  their  prayer,  that  you 
now  attempt  to  pray.  Oh,  we  shall 
indeed  hope  for  you,  ye  wanderers,  j'e 
prodigals,  if,  when  ye  go  hence,  ye 
will  seek  the  solitude  of  your  cham- 
bers and  fall  upon  your  knees,  and, 
allowing  memory  to  do  its  office,  how- 
ever painful  and  reproachful,  address 


.1  A  B  K  Z 


559 


God,  as  Jabez  addressed  luiti,  as  tlie 
God  of  Israel,  the  God  of  your  parents. 

And  what  did  Jabez  pray  for  ?  for 
great  things — great,  if  you  suppose 
him  to  have  spoken  only  as  an  heir  of 
the  temporal  Canaan,  greater,  if  you 
ascribe  to  him  acquaintance  with  the 
mercies  of  redemption.  "Oh,  that 
thou  wouldest  bless  me  indeed  !"  Lay 
the  emphasis  on  that  word  "  indeed." 
Man.y  things  pass  for  blessings  which 
are  not  j  to  as  many  more  we  deny, 
though  we  ought  to  give  the  charac- 
ter.- There  is  a  blessing  in  appear- 
ance which  is  not  also  a  blessing  in 
reality;  and  conversely,  the  reality 
may  exist  where  the  appearance  is 
wanting.  The  man  in  prosperity  ap- 
pears to  have,  the  man  in  adversity  to 
be  without,  a  blessing — yet  how  often 
does  God  bless  by  withholding  and 
withdrawing!  more  frequently,  it  may 
be,  than  by  giving  and  continuing. 
Therefore,  "  Oh,  that  thou  wouldest 
bless  me  indeed."  Let  me  not  have 
Avhat  looks  like  blessing,  and  perhaps 
is  not,  but  what  is  blessing,  however 
unlike  it  may  appear.  Let  it  come 
under  any  form,  disappointment,  tri- 
bulation, persecution,  only  "bless  me 
indeed !"  bless  me,  though  it  be  with 
the  rod.  I  will  not  prescribe  the  na- 
ture of  the  dealing  j  deal  with  me  as 
Thou  wilt,  with  the  blow  or  v/itli  the 
balm,  only  "  bless  me  indeed  !" 

And  Jabez  goes  on,  "  That  thou 
wouldest  enlarge  my  coast."  He  pro- 
bably speaks  as  one  who  had  to  win 
from  the  enemy  his  portion  of  the 
promised  land.  He  knew  that,  as  the 
Lord  said  to  Joshua,  "  There  remained 
yet  very  much  land  to  be  possessed :" 
it  was  not  then  necessarily  as  a  man  de- 
sirous of  securing  to  himself  a  broad- 
er inheritance,  it  may  have  been  as 
one  who  felt  jealous  that  the  idolater 
should  still  defile  what  God  had  set 
apart  for  his  people,  that  he  entreated 
the  enlargement  of  his  coast.  And  a 
Christian  may  use  the  same  prayer ; 
he,  too,  has  to  ask  that  his  coast  may 
be  enlarged.  Who  amongst  us  has 
yet  taken  possession  of  one  half  the 
territory  assigned  him  by  Godi  Of 
course  we  are  not  speaking  of  the  in- 
heritance that  is  above,  of  share  in  the 
land  whereof  Canaan  was  the  type, 
and  which  we  cannot  enter  b.ut  by  dy- 
ing.    But  there  is  a  present  inherit- 


ance, "aland  flowing  with  milk  and 
with  honey,"  which  is  ours  in  virtue 
of  adoption  into  the  family  of  God, 
but  much  of  which  we  allow  to  remain 
unpossessed,  through  deficiency  in  dil- 
igence or  in  faith.  Our  privileges  as 
Christians,  as  members  of  an  apostoli- 
cal church,  as  heirs  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  how  are  these  practically  un- 
dervalued, how  little  are  they  realized, 
how  sluggishly  appropriated  !  We  re- 
main— alas,  we  are  contented  to  re- 
main— in  suspense  as  to  our  spiritual 
condition,  in  the  enjoyment  of  but  a 
fraction  of  the  ministrations  appointed 
by  the  church,  in  low  attainments, 
contracted  views,  and  half-performed 
duties.  What  districts  of  unpossess- 
ed "territory  are  there  in  the  Bible ! 
how  much  of  that  blessed  book  has 
been  comparatively  unexamined  by 
us!  We  have  our  favorite  parts,  and 
give  only  an  occasional  and  cursory 
notice  to  the  rest.  How  little  practi- 
cal use  do  we  make  of  God's  promi- 
ses! how  slow  is  our  progress  in  that 
humbleness  of  mind,  that  strength  of 
faith,  and  that  holiness  of  life,  which 
are  as  much  a  present  reward  as  an 
evidence  of  fitness  for  the  society  of 
heaven  !  What  need  then  for  the  pray- 
er, "Oh  that  thou  wouldest  enlarge 
my  coast!"  I  would  not  be  circum- 
scribed in  spiritual  things.  I  would 
not  live  always  within  these  narrow 
bounds.  There  are  bright  and  glori- 
ous tracts  beyond.  I  would  know 
more  of  God,  more  of  Christ,  more  of 
myself.  I  cannot  be  content  to  re- 
main as  I  am,  whilst  there  is  so  much 
to  do,  so  much  to  learn,  so  much  to  en- 
joy. Oh  for  an  enlargement  of  coast, 
that  I  may  have  a  broader  domain  of 
Christian  privilege,  more  eminences 
from  which  to  catch  glimpses  of  the 
fair  rich  land  hereafter  to  be  reached, 
andwider  sphere  in  which  to  glorify 
God  by  devoting  myself  to  his  service. 
It  is  a  righteous  covetousness,  this  for 
an  enlargement  of  coast;  for  he  has 
done  little,  we  might  almost  say  no- 
thing, in  religion,  who  can  be  content 
with  what  he  has  done.  It  is  a  holy 
ambition,  this  which  pants  for  an  am- 
pler territory.  But  are  we  only  to 
prayl  are  we  not  also  to  struggle,  for 
the  enlargement  of  our  coasts'?  In- 
i  deed  we  are  :  observe  how  Jabez  pro- 
;  ceeds,  "And  that  thine  hand  might  be 


560 


J  AB  E  Z 


with  nie."  He  represents  himself  as 
arming  for  the  enlargement  of  his 
coast,  but  as  knowing  all  the  while 
that  "  the  battle  is  the  Lord's."  Be 
it  thus  with  ourselves;  we  will  pray 
that,  during  the  coming  year,  our 
coasts  may  be  enlarged  ;  oh  for  more 
of  those  deep  havens  where  the  soul 
may  anchor  in  still  waters  of  comfort ! 
oh  for  a  longer  stretch  of  those  sunny 
shores  whereon  the  tree  of  life  grows, 
and  where  angel  visitants  seem  often 
to  alight !  But,  in  order  to  this  en- 
largement, let  us  give  ourselves  to 
closer  study  of  the  word,  to  a  more 
diligent  use  of  t!ie  ordinances  of  the 
Church,  and  to  harder  struggle  with 
the  flesh.  Only  let  all  be  done  with 
the  practical  consciousness  that  '^ex- 
cept the  Lord  build  the  house,  their 
labor  is  but  lost  that  build  it."  This 
will  be-  to  arm  ourselves,  like  Jabez, 
for  the  war,  but,  like  Jabez,  to  expect 
success  only  so  far  as  God's  hand 
shall  be  with  us. 

There  is  one  more  petition  in  the 
prayer  of  him  who,  named  with  a  dark 
and  inauspicious  name,  yet  grew  to  be 
"more  honorable  than  his  brethren." 
"  That  thou  wouldest  Iceep  me  from 
evil  that  it  may  not  grieve  me."  It  is 
not  an  entreaty  for  actual  exemption 
from  evil — it  were  no  pious  wish  to 
have  no  evil  whatsoever  in  our  por- 
tion :  ''  Shall  we  receive  good  at  the 
hand  of  God,  and  shall  we  not  receive 
eviP;"  Jabez  prayed  not  for  the  being 
kept  from  evil,  but  kept  from  the  being 
grieved  by  evil.  And  there  is  a  vast 
difference  between  the  being  visited  by 
evil,  and  grieved  by  evil.  He  is  grieved 
by  evil,  who  does  not  receive  it  meekly 
and  submissively,  as  the  chastisement 
of  his  heavenly  Father.  He  is  grieved 
by  evil,  whom  evil  injures,  in  place  of 
benefits — which  latter  is  always  God's 
purpose  in  its  permission  or  appoint- 
ment. He  is  grieved  by  evil,  whom  it 
drives  into  sin,  and  to  whom,  therefore, 
it  furnishes  cause  of  bitter  repentance. 

You  see,  then,  that  Jabez  showed 
great  spiritual  discernment  in  casting 
his  prayer  into  this  particular  form. 
We  too  should  pray,  not  absolutely 
that  God  would  keep  us  from  evil,  but 
that  he  would  so  keep  it  from  us,  or  us 
from  it,  that  it  may  not  grieve  us.  T'he 
coming  year  can  hardly  fail  to  bring 
Avith  it  its  portion  of  trouble.     There 


are    individuals    here    who  will    have 
much  to  endure,  Vv^hether  in  person,  or 
family,  or  substance.     It    is   scarcely' 
assuming  the  place  of  the  prophet,  if 
1  say  that  1  see  the  funeral  procession 
moving  from  some  of  your  doors,  and 
sorrow,  under  one  shape   or  another, 
breaking  like  an  armed  mnn  into  many 
of  your  households.    But  if  it  were  too 
much  to  hope  that  evil  may  not  come, 
it   is  not  too  much   to  pray  that  .evil 
may  not  grieve.     Ah,  if  we  knew  ap- 
proaching events,  we  should,  perhaps, 
be  ready  to  give  the  name  Jabez  to-the 
year   which  has  this    day  been   born. 
And  yet  may  this  Jabez  be  more  hon- 
orable than  his  brethren,  a  year  of  en- 
largement of  our  coasts,  of  greater  ac- 
quisition in  spiritual  things,  of  growth 
in  grace,  of  closer  conformity  to  the 
image  of  Christ.     It  is  not  the  tribu- 
lation  with    which   its   daj's   may  be 
charged,  which  can  prevent   such  re- 
I  suit ;  nay,  rather,  it  may  only  advance 
I  it.  And  it  shall  be  this,  if  we  but  strive 
to  cultivate  that  submissiveness  of  spi- 
1  rit,  that  firm  confidence  in  the  wisdom 
and  goodness  of  the  Lord,  that  dispo- 
'  sition  to  count  nothing  really  injurious 
but  what  injures  the  soul,  yea,  every 
;  thing  profitable  from  which   the  soul 
\  may  gain  good,  which  may  all  be  dis- 
{  tinctly  traced  in  the   simple,  compre- 
hensive  petition,  "  Oh  that  thou  would- 
j  est  keep  me  from  evil,  that  it  may  not 
grieve  me." 

Now  we  have    thus  endeavored  to 
;  interweave  with  our  subject-matter  of 
{  discourse  such  reflections  and  obse'r- 
I  vations   as  might  be  specially  appro- 
i  priate  to  a  New  Year's  day.    But  there 
I  is  one  thing  of  which  I  had  almost  lost 
I  sight.    I  have  to  ask  you   for  a  iVew 
Year's  day  present,  not  indeed  for  my- 
self, which  I  might  hesitate  to  do,  but 
for  the  poor,  the  sick,  and  the  afflicted, 
in   whose  name  I  may  beg,  and  have 
nothing  to  blush  at,  unless  it  were  a 
refusal.     Of  all  days  in  the  year,  this 
is  peculiarly  a  day  for  "  sending  por- 
tions" to  the  distressed,  sending  them 
as  a  thank-oflering  for  the  many  mer- 
cies with  which  the  past  year  has  been 
marked.    And  our  long-established  and 
long-tried  District  Society  for  visiting 
and   relieving  the  poor  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, makes  its   annual   appeal  to 
you  for  the  means  of  carrying  on  its 
benevolent  work.    It  appeals  to  the  re- 


J  A  BE  Z 


561 


gular  congregation,  as  to  those  whose 
engine  and  instrument  it  especially  is : 
it  appeals  also  to  strangers ;  for  they 
who  come  hither  to  join  in  our  wor- 
ship, may  with  all  justice  be  asked  to 
assist  us  in  our  charities.  I  need  not 
dwell  on  the  excellences  of  this  socie- 
ty. I  shall  venture  to  say,  that,  through 
the  kindness  and  zeal  of  our  visiters, 
whom  we  can  never  sufficiently  thank, 
but  whom  God  will  reward — for  theirs 
is  the  fine  christian  benevolence,  the 
benevolence  which  gives  time,  the  be- 
nevolence which  gives  labor,  the  bene- 
volence which  seeks  no  showy  stage, 
no  public  scene,  but  is  content  to  ply, 
patient  and  unobserved,  in  the  hovels 
of  poverty  and  at  the  bedside  of  sick- 
ness ;  I  shall  venture  to  say,  that, 
through  the  kindness  of  these  visit- 
ers, a  vast  deal  is  daily  done  towards 
alleviating  sorrow,  lightening  distress, 
and  bringing  the  pastor  into  contact 
with  the  sick  and  the  erring  of  his 
flock.  It  were  very  easy  to  sketch 
many  pictures  which  might  incline  you 
to  be  even  more  than  commonly  libe- 
ral in  your  New  Year's  day  gift.  But 
I  shall  attempt  only  one,  and  furnish 
nothing  but  the  briefest  outline  even 
of  that.  There  is  a  mother  in  yonder 
wretched  and  desolate  room,  who  has 
but  lately  given  birth  to  a  boyj  and 
there  is  no  father  to  welcome  him,  for, 
only  a  few  weeks  back,  half  broken- 
hearted, she  laid,  her  husband  in  the 
grave.  What  shall  she  call  that  boy, 
thus  born  to  her  in  the  midst  of  wretch- 
edness and  anguish  1  Oh,  by  no  cheer- 


ful name.  She  feels,  as  she  bends  over 
him,  as  if  he  were  indeed  the  child 
of  sorrow :  so  dreary  is  her  state,  so 
friendless,  that,  were  it  not  for  the  stri- 
vings of  that  sweet  and  sacred  thing, 
a  mother's  fondness  for  her  babe,  she 
could  almost  wish  him  with  his  father 
in  the  grave,  that  he  might  not  have  to 
share  her  utter  destitution.  Left  to 
herself,  she  could  but,  like  the  Jewish 
mother,  call  his  name  Jabez,  saying, 
"Because  I  bare  him  with  sofrow." 
But  she  is  not  left  to  herself:  a  kind 
voice  bids  her  be  of  good  cheer ;  a 
friendly  hand  brings  her  nourishment: 
she  looks  smilingly  on  her  child,  for 
she  has  been  suddenly  made  to  hear, 
and  to  taste  of  the  loving-kindness  of 
God,  "the  husband  of  the  widow,  and 
the  father  of  the  fatherless."  Oh,  what 
a  change  has  passed  over  that  lonely 
and  wretched  apartment;  you  will  not 
ask  through  what  instrumentality,  but 
you  will  thank  God  that  such  an  in- 
strumentality is  in  active  operation 
around  you  ;  you  will  do  your  best  to 
keep  up  its  efficiency.  And  as  that 
suffering  woman  no  longer  thinks  of 
calling  her  child  Jabez,  that  is,  Sor- 
rowful, but  rather  Avishes  some  title 
expressive  of  thanksgiving  and  hope- 
fulness; you  will  so  share  her  glad- 
ness as  to  feel  how  appropriately  the 
organ's  solemn  swell  now  summons 
you  to  join  in  the  doxology  : 

"  Praise  God,  from  •whom  all  blessings  flow. 
Praise  Him,  all  creatures  here  below ; 
Praise  Him  above,  ye  heavenly  host, 
Praise  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.'' 


THE     END 


71 


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